"Very Cunt": SOUNDS OF 16 with ST. TAJ
We sit down with St. Taj — DJ, director, producer, and the self-anointed patron saint of the bad bitches. Between REHASH day parties, Mönch nights, Fired & Iced, and the ever-growing world of B!tch Radio, she has become the person a certain kind of Lagos girl gets ready to. On the day we speak, Brazy's "Attends" is playing on loop in the background — the perfect soundtrack for a conversation about the church she's building, and the two things she would ban at the door of it.
Conducted by Tushar Hathiramani
Photography: Daniel Uwaga, Creative Direction: Daniel Obaweya
Part One: Becoming St. Taj
Tushar: Where did the name St. Taj come from?
St. Taj: St. Taj comes from my moniker, "Patron Saint of Bad Bitches," but it's also inspired by who I am and what makes me. I really wanted my stage name to include my actual name somehow. Taj is taken from my initials, T-A-J, so it felt like the name was already there waiting for me. I really liked the idea of creating this almost larger-than-life character around myself — a patron saint for girls, gays and theys who are unapologetically themselves.
T: Where were you the first time you played music for other people?
St: The first time I played for other people was at B!tch Radio's third anniversary. We threw a party and showcase for queer and female musicians and DJs, so it felt like the perfect place to do it for the first time.
I had been practicing for months and months before that because I wanted to feel like I was actually ready. I remember the room being filled with so much celebration, happiness and really good energy. At the same time, I was extremely stressed because it was my first time and there was so much going on in my head — our events are usually very D-I-Y and there was so much I was doing. But once I started playing, it felt so right. It was a beautiful set, and definitely one of those moments where I thought, "Okay, maybe I can actually do this."
Part Two: The Church of the Bad Bitches
T: Patron saint of the bad bitches. The line is funny, but it's also a whole thesis. Who are the bad bitches, and what is B!tch Radio?
St: The bad bitches are my community. They're the minorities, the girls, gays and theys, in summary.
But it started out as what I called B!tch Radio's community and followers. To me, a bad bitch is someone who isn't afraid to make radical changes, someone who is genuinely happy to see other women and queer people shine and be celebrated. Bad bitches aren't afraid of living outside of societal expectations. They're people who are comfortable living life on their own terms and being completely true to themselves. It's really less about how you look and more about how you move through the world.
B!tch Radio itself is an online media platform that supports and amplifies women and queer people in music and creative spaces. It started in December 2020 out of a need to see more women and queer people's music appreciated and amplified in the mainstream, and to create a space where we could actually grow and feel supported by our community. I think I just got tired of seeing women and queer people in music constantly get sidestepped for cishet men and not getting the recognition, opportunities and support they deserved, especially on this side of the world.
B!tch Radio gave me a space to platform more women and queer people through showcases, learning platforms, playlists and other initiatives. I've discovered so many new artists, DJs, producers and songwriters through the community. Honestly, it has changed my life. It's a huge part of the reason I started DJing in the first place, and it completely changed the way I consume and experience music.
T: CUNTPOP. Big word. What does it mean to you?
St: CUNTPOP is a sub-genre of the music I play. I play a lot of cunt music, and CUNTPOP is really hyper-feminine, edgy and high-energy music that's popular within queer and ballroom scenes.
For me, it's music that brings out the inner bad bitch in you. It's the kind of music that makes you want to dance, vogue, bring out your inner diva, disrupt the cisheteropatriarchy and just be unapologetically queer. It's not necessarily about fitting neatly into one genre. It's more about an attitude, a feeling and what the music makes you feel like when it comes on.
Photography: Daniel Uwaga, Creative Director: Daniel Obaweya
T: Lagos has one of the loudest queer nightlife scenes on the continent, and also one of the most surveilled. What does it mean to hold space for queer joy on a dancefloor here, in 2026 specifically?
St: That is really the essence of my DJing. I want to hold space for queer joy and bring the music and energy that feels like it was made specifically for my community to the dancefloor.
I want to represent my community in every room I walk into because there will always be women and queer people at the function. For those few hours that I'm playing, I want the room to feel like it belongs to them too. There's something really powerful about being able to dance, be loud, be yourself and just enjoy music without having to think about everything outside of that space. If I can create even a few hours where people feel free to do that, then I feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.
Part Three: The Room
T: A track you love that you'd never play out. The one that lives in your headphones on the way home but wouldn't survive the dancefloor.
St:Speechless by Lady Gaga. But I don't think the Nigerian audience is ready for me to suddenly turn the club into a Lady Gaga ballad session. Nigerian audiences are very Afrobeats-core, and sometimes it feels like they could actually beat you up if you take them too far away from what they came for. Haha. So Speechless can live safely in my headphones on the way home.
T: Dream gig in Lagos. Forget budget, forget logistics. Build the night.
St: My ideal party would definitely be on a beach or a rooftop overlooking a great skyline.
I'd want it to feel intimate but also very adventurous, with lots of little games that people could play on their own or with their friends. There would obviously be an open bar because we need to keep the drinks flowing. The dress code would be very cunt. I'd want it to start around sunset and run all the way into the early morning.
The door policy would be: girls and gays, come as you are. No cishets please.
Photography: Daniel Uwaga, Creative Director: Daniel Obaweya
Part Four: Sounds of 16, Playlist & Party
T: This year's Sounds of 16 playlist has your name on it. What's the listener doing when they press play?
St: It's a playlist curated to make you feel amazing, fresh and like the baddest bitch, whether you're just waking up, getting ready, driving to a party, dancing in your kitchen at 4am or coming down the next morning. I want it to work at whatever point in your day you need a little St. Taj energy.
T: And when we hand you the room at 16/16 for one night this summer — build it.
St: The venue would be 16/16, of course. I like day parties, but for this one I'd want it to start around 9pm and go until late. I'd want a lineup of women and queer DJs and artists who can really build an atmosphere and take the room somewhere.
The one rule for the dancefloor would be to enjoy yourself and really feel the music. Come as you are, dance, scream, vogue, whatever — just have a good time and let yourself experience the night. And the two things I'd ban at the door? Bad vibes and song requests. Please, I beg.
