Lira’s return: How music helped the singer find her voice again

For Lira, the road back was not driven by a desire to sing. At first, her focus was much simpler: learning how to speak normally again. That is why the moment she realised she could still sing came as such a surprise.

“It was surprising because I wasn’t focused on singing. I was focused on talking normally,” she says. “I was driving to a party, and I was playing Tyla’s Water, full blast, and I could see that I could sing along with the words.

“That weekend, I practised all of my songs, and I discovered singing was a lot easier than talking. I sing better than I talk now.”

It is a striking twist in a journey marked by uncertainty. What had once been second nature suddenly became fragile, and recovery has required patience, humility and rest. Speech, she says, returned gradually, and singing ended up helping more than she expected.

“Returning to singing improved my speech, but I wasn’t focusing on singing,” she says. “It’s a good thing because had I returned to singing sooner, I wouldn’t have had the rest I knew I needed. I love it.”

Her stroke did more than interrupt her career. It forced her to confront parts of herself she had not fully understood before, especially the toll that stress had taken on her body.

“One of them was my ability to handle stress,” she says. “I was not aware that I was stressed or how much the stress affected my body.”

That realisation has reshaped how she moves through life. She has learnt to slow down, rest when she needs to and pay closer attention to her body rather than push through exhaustion in the name of perfection.

“I realised that I’ve got to take a break when I need to and that being a perfectionist makes you stressed,” she says. “So my recovery was gentle reminders of what I put my body through.”

Even with everything that has changed, Lira says the heart of her work remains the same. What has shifted is the way she now protects herself within that purpose.

“My purpose has always been inspiring people, and it’s still the same,” she says. “But my purpose shouldn’t compromise my life.”

Her first performance after rediscovering her singing voice was a quiet but meaningful step forward. She recalls appearing at Baseline and feeling too shy to address the audience directly.

“I performed at the Baseline and I was shy to address people,” she says. “So I performed live and I did not talk. I sang, and left the talking last.”

That experience seems to have shaped the way she now approaches this new chapter: with honesty rather than polish, and with progress rather than perfection as the goal.

“People know I’m trying and it’s in being consistently present that the progress will come,” she says.

That spirit will carry into Still Here, her three-hour show at the Lyric Theatre on 18 April. The performance promises to blend song, dance and storytelling, giving audiences a fuller sense not only of her music, but also of the personal journey behind it.

“That’s going to be a lot of songs to memorise,” she laughs. “A lot of people have never experienced me telling my story in person through music so I hope that people will hear my story through song, words and movement.”

The concert also arrives alongside two significant milestones in her career: 10 years of Born Free and 20 years of Feel Good. For Lira, that makes the evening feel less like a comeback and more like a celebration of endurance.

“I’m celebrating 10 years of my Born Free album and 20 years of Feel Good. So it’s a celebration of life, the trials, the triumphs, the wind, the falls, the everything.”

Her music, she says, has taken on new meaning since the stroke. Songs she once performed as part of her catalogue now feel almost prophetic, as though they were written to carry her through this chapter of her life.

“It’s almost like I wrote those songs 20 years ago to help me recover from stroke now,” she says. “Songs like Believer and Rise Again. A song like Something Inside So Strong made me cry. For the last three years I’ve been singing it, but now my crying has settled down. They are therapeutic.”

Away from the stage, Lira has built a quieter, more intentional life. Mornings are now rooted in meditation and prayer. She values silence, healthy routines and moments of stillness that help her stay connected to herself.

“The stroke caused me to slow down and when I slow down, I can absorb life more,” she says. “I spend every morning meditating and praying. I eat well and spend time in silence, with myself and take time to listen to myself. I value that.”

That inward focus, she says, has become essential to the way she lives and the way she gives.

“Making sure I’ve got inner happiness is very important to me and that’s why I can share happiness with others - because I take care of it myself. I am very happy.”

There is no grand reinvention in Lira’s story, only a quieter and perhaps more powerful truth: that healing can change the way a person speaks, sings and sees the world. As she continues to reclaim her voice, she is doing so with a renewed sense of self and a message shaped by experience rather than performance.

“Difficult things happen for you, not to you,” she says. “And if you learn the lessons, you can come out on the other side stronger, wiser and much happier with a new purpose.”

It is that message, as much as the music, that she hopes to share with audiences when she returns to the stage.

“My fans have shown me a lot of love, so I’m excited to reciprocate.”