FLETCHER Isn’t Your Typical Pop Star—And She Doesn’t Want to Be (2023)

In the past few years, FLETCHER has evolved from a singer-songwriter from New Jersey to a streaming platform favorite and somewhat of a queer role model; but she wants to make one thing clear: “I don't want to be a pop star. That's not my schtick at all,” she tells me, nestled in a leather chair in New York’s iconic Electric Lady Studios.

As the 25-year-old, born Cari Fletcher, steps further into the mainstream spotlight, authenticity and unfiltered-ness are key, not just for her public image but also for herself. "I am not perfect," she explains. "I'm going to make so many mistakes, I'm going to say shit that I didn't mean to say, I'm going to trip on a red carpet. I'm a hot mess, in my life as a person, so I'm going to be that way as an artist. I'm not going to put on any façade or any act for anybody, and if you tell me to, I'll tell you to fuck off."

Her newly released project, you ruined new york city for me, is a prime example. She documents the fallout of a past toxic relationship in a “heart-on-my-sleeve” and “TMI” manner, coupled with edgy pop production from Frank Ocean's collaborator, Malay. In her biggest hit, “Undrunk,” she sings about wishing she could “unfuck” a past lover, which, honestly, people can relate to. The reception proves it: The single has been streamed more than 100 million times worldwide since debuting in January, and fans pour into Fletcher’s DMs saying things like, “I love how honest you are. It’s really helped me.”

Fletcher really isn’t like most pop stars if you consider her rise to prominence. Her popularity is almost entirely borne from streaming platforms, especially Spotify, after her 2015 breakout hit “War Paint” landed on the New Music Friday playlist and became the most-shared song on the app at the time. But instead of latching onto a record label right away, Fletcher stayed independent for years, continuing to grow her global fan base online before signing with Capitol Records last summer.

Looking laid-back in a tie-dye T-shirt and black cargo pants, Fletcher tousles her blonde waves as she talks, her fingers decked out in silver rings. In the adjacent room, producers are settling at a control panel before the singer steps into the booth to record at the Electric Lady Studios for the first time. It’s fitting that we meet here for our interview; not the studio, but in Greenwich Village, her former stomping ground as an NYU student and a neighborhood fraught with painful memories of the relationship that inspired her newest songs. “Undrunk” was one of the first tracks she wrote after the emotional breakup.

Below, Fletcher tells BAZAAR.com about empowering women in her music, normalizing queer relationships, and using her platform for important messages.

The experience of releasing music during college made her "feel like Hannah Montana."

College was weird for me. I came from a high school with a lot of school spirit and games, and then I came to go to school in New York City and there was no sports teams. It was pretty lonely. I was in a really small program and I was dating somebody my whole time here that just really kind of fucked me up and broke my heart. So my time at NYU and in college kind of feels like it has this sort of dark cloud over it. But I'm also super grateful for it because it's literally what I've written all this music about, that time in my life and that person. New York City has a way of just stripping you down to absolutely nothing and you're forced to just rebuild and figure your shit out and grow up really fast here. But to be able to put out music at the same time was my lifeline.

you ruined new york city for me, which she recorded in Belmar, NJ, is an honest collection of moments from that troubled romance. One of her songs even pulls words from her ex's text messages.

What I really want to do is just drop people into a really specific feeling. "Undrunk" is about that moment when you're in a taxi, Uber, or ride home after the after party and there's no more distractions left. No substance, no flirt, no fling, you're just kind of fucked up in the back of your cab, and you're just going home by yourself. And that person just crosses your mind and there's nothing really that you can do about it. I've been in that position so many times. “If You're Gonna Lie” is a song about being cheated on. I found out that I was being cheated on in my apartment, which is right around the corner from here. It's weird to walk through the city streets and see all the places I used to go with that person, and trying to create new memories now.

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The title of her project is literal, but she's in a better place now.

It's funny, it's harder being in New York, but I'm over it. I respect that person, and I hope that they're happy and they find love because they deserve it. I wouldn't have said that a year ago. I was really, really bitter. Because it's such a part of my past, I'm able to talk about it, but it's really easy for me to tap back into those feelings, because I remember them like it was yesterday. I lost myself; it was a toxic situation. There was no respect there. I kind of hated who I was. I look back on that person, and I pity that version of me. But then again, it gave me really thick skin.

For Fletcher, highlighting women in her music is "the most important thing." Take her comforting ballad, "I Believe You," which she dedicated to people who came forward with sexual assault allegations.

Women are so underrepresented in music and in media, especially as a queer female. It's really important for me to surround myself with other badass, powerful women. I'm lucky enough to get to work with so many badass girls. When I released “I Believe You,” it was after working with a lot of different women. We talked about our experiences in professional and studio environments. I wanted to be able to give a platform and a voice to those experiences that they had been through and just based off my own personal situations.

I remember I had a meeting with somebody who said to me, “How are you going to write a song about sexual assault, and then a song about wishing you could ‘unfuck’ somebody?” And I was like, you are the very problem with society in general. Women are multi-layered. We go through tons of different emotions and experiences and real shit. I just wanted to highlight real female stories, and what it means to be a woman, a queer woman in 2019.

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When Fletcher featured a woman (YouTuber Shannon Beveridge) as her love interest in her 2016 music video for "Wasted Youth," she was flocked with questions about her sexuality, almost as if people demanded her to come out or define herself.

As human beings, we have such a tendency to box people in, label things just so we can understand it. I even catch myself doing that, being like, “How do they identify?” I think in certain settings it is appropriate, especially when you want to ask somebody, “What are your pronouns?” because you should never assume anything about anyone.

But I think we have a tendency to do that so we can understand it better, and I also think, because of our own egos, we have a tendency to shut things out that we don't understand, because we don't want to welcome anything that hasn't previously been a part of our world. That’s because of ego, because of fear, and nobody wants to feel stupid. I think it's a natural thing. People want to just understand you and know what you are.

I've been frustrated with myself about that. What am I? The biggest thing that I've realized is that it doesn't matter at all. Human beings are really beautiful, and that's really special that I have been given that ability to be able to see somebody regardless of their gender. For anybody that is maybe questioning or struggling with that, don't. You're literally so perfect just the way that you are, and you don't need to box yourself in just to have other people understand you better.

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Fletcher thinks that representation of queer people and relationships has "become so much better," but there's still work to do.

We're seeing so much more of a normalized portrayal of same-sex queer couples. In the past, it's just been this dramatic struggle of people coming out and being kicked out of their families—which is still a very, very real thing.

I also have to recognize my privilege in this situation, being able to talk about my sexuality the way that I do, because I realize it's not like that everywhere in the world. I still think, even as a queer community, we are more accepting of certain things. I think an artist like me is palatable and digestible for the white, cis-gendered masses of America. And that's frustrating to me, that the trans community still faces so much. Trans women of color, specifically, are the most underrepresented and marginalized part of our community.

I feel honored to be able to talk about it the way that I do, but I also have to recognize my privilege as a member of the LGBT community, to continue to use that platform to make sure we are actually doing the work that still needs to be done within our own community.

She thinks there’s no point in having a platform if you’re not going to use it to make a message.

I think being silent and complacent in a time where there's so much shit going on in the world, that is really messed up and really needs to be changed. No matter how big or small your platform is, if you're not using it to speak up about something that you believe in, whatever that is, there's absolutely no point in having it.

I don't want to follow somebody who's just completely neutral about everything and trying to get everybody to like them. Everybody needs water. I'd rather be whiskey. Not everybody likes whiskey, but it's got a kick and it's got a bite and it'll fuck your day up. [Laughs]

Fans often come to Fletcher for advice on how to come out to their families.

I think that's probably what I get the most messages about: "I have no idea how to come out to my parents." I hope that one day that we do live in a world that people don't have to do that anymore. It's annoying that your assumed sexuality is straight. That's a very frustrating thing for me. It makes me sad. It makes me reflect on when I was growing up and was so confused and so stressed about it. I would think, “Oh my God, what am I going to do about this? I'm just going to not tell anybody forever. I'll figure it out.” And then you just get to a point where you're just like, "I need to be who I am."

If you are in an environment where it's not safe to be that person yet, there's always a way to find people who are like-minded and accepting of you. An online community. It's hard. It's such a confusing and weird time. I don't ever want to go back to that place in my life. But, at the same time, it really, genuinely does get better.

She didn't see herself represented in music growing up.

I grew up in a town where if you weren't a certain way, you were just kind of an outcast and super weird. People always thought that I would fit into this kind of box, that I just never really saw myself in. Even growing up, I always thought, "I love music, want to make music. How am I supposed to be an artist when I don't see any female pop artists out there I identify with and see myself in? That must mean that I'm not going to be good enough to do this. I don't see myself." I made it my mission to be the artist that I really needed when I was a little girl.

She feels untouchable at the mic.

Music and singing and performing is the only time that I ever feel like nobody can touch me, and nobody can tell me what to do.

I was a really anxious kid growing up, really bad OCD that I struggled with all throughout my whole childhood and into college. Music was the one thing that I couldn't have so much anxiety over and be too obsessive over because it was just so free and fluid being able to sing a song. Honestly, it was a survival tactic. This makes me feel okay. It was the only thing I could ever imagine doing. I have no idea what else I would do. I genuinely have no idea. Maybe a professional hot dog eater, I don't know.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.