Fletcher, born Cari Elise Fletcher, knew from a younger age than she didn’t shape the “cookie-cutter” pop star mold defined. As a result. She set out to jot down, and sing, her own narrative—one this is inclusive, relatable, and non-conformist. “Growing up, the antiquated pop celebrity stereotype turned into all that I had as girl representation, and I didn’t ever actually see myself in that,” she says. “From a truly young age, I got down to make it my venture to be the artist that I simply wanted when I was a little female.”
Fletcher moved to New York City to attend the Clive Davis Institute of Recorded Music at NYU. She wrote her breakout music “War Paint,” which went viral on Spotify and later led to coping with Capitol statistics. Besides earning a diploma, Fletcher unknowingly found the foundation for her upcoming LP; you ruined big apple metropolis for me. “When I moved [to NYC], I fell in love for the primary time, and I had my coronary heart absolutely damaged into a bazillion portions, and it became a sort of like a toxic scenario,” she says.
Although Fletcher’s modern-day tune info the aches and pains of a broken heart over synths and pop beats, her message goes beyond the restrictions of love and the ache it brings. “My track definitely focuses on the woman attitude and the human attitude,” Fletcher advised me when I met her in Nashville. “I never actually need all of us to be taken out of the tale because they don’t identify with who or what I’m speaking about.”
Ahead of her performance at Jack White’s Third Man Records, as part of Audi’s launch occasion for the Audi Q3, Fletcher held not anything back and stuck up with Interview about the importance of using her “digestible and palatable” privilege to inform underrepresented queer stories, why Joan Jett and Lady Gaga have been her saving grace and the fine alternatives to sending that four a.M. Drunk-textual content. ERNEST MACIAS: You don’t use pronouns for your track. We stay in a time wherein humans virtually don’t want to be subject to those constructs. Why is that critical for you and your track?
FLETCHER: I assume I create first-rate from a place of unhappiness and being heartbroken. Nobody wants to hear you write a tune about being glad and financially solid or emotionally supported. Because that’s no longer relatable. Life’s tough, and love’s hard. Often, the song lets you into specific things that you maybe wouldn’t be able to vocalize absolutely, particularly in terms of songwriting. It’s critical to me because I in no way want everybody to be taken out of a song or now not relate to what I’m announcing. I need to make music based totally on the human experience, and also, it doesn’t rely upon who broke your heart—if it was a man, female, trans man, trans female, or non-binary person. It’s still the shittiest feeling in the whole international, having you heartbroken. The heart doesn’t have a gender.
FLETCHER: I became a theater, nerdy, song, queer youngster that become now not cool. I suppose I got here because I was sincerely scared about depicting sexuality and being anything apart from what people expected me to be. So yeah, it’s a scary factor as it’s sincerely prone. But at the same time, if I’m not living my truth and using my platform to have those conversations and help push the arena in a more progressive and inclusive place, what the hell’s the factor of ever even having a platform? Representing queer testimonies isn’t always my headline. My queerness isn’t the story’s headline in any way; it’s just part of my tale. But at the same time, it’s miles clearly important. I’m fortunate that I even get to speak about it as freely as I do because it’s no longer like that everyone over the sector and even within our personal community. Trans women of color are the maximum marginalized, underrepresented, abused, and assaulted within our personal community. The truth that I am digestible and palatable for the white cisgender masses of America—I must use that privilege to have the ability to mention things and feature conversations like this.
