Alessia Cara on her new album, new tour and old secrets
CBC
Wes Anderson. David Lynch. Both Studio Ghibli's Spirited Away and the deeper cut release Only Yesterday. Don't forget Phoebe Waller-Bridge's Fleabag.
Alessia Cara is currently going over her movie and TV favourites, and that last one is, in her opinion, one of the most brilliant shows ever written — which is probably why someone gifted her a copy of the screenplay. But the idea for the gift may also have sprung from a well-hidden aspiration: her wish to be an actor, to be a filmmaker, to be creatively involved with a production in any way, either in front of or behind the camera.
"That's something that has been a secret dream of mine," the Canadian musician says in an interview with CBC. "Directing something, or writing a show or a movie or something. It's something I've always been, really, secretly interested in."
But when it comes to Cara's artistic output, that's where most of the secrets end; the 28-year-old has spent her entire adult life in the spotlight, and more years at least near it. After YouTube pop covers granted her semi-viral internet fame at 13, she signed her first record deal about three years later, then went on to new levels of celebrity with her self-written debut track, Here.
She then continued balancing that dual reputation of being a pop star and an introspective writer: one year covering Moana's breakout track How Far I'll Go for the album release, the next co-writing the eight-time-platinum dance track Stay, and still the next becoming the first Canadian to take home a Grammy for best new artist.
Her new album, Love & Hyperbole, also maintains this duality, but is also exceedingly direct about some very intimate truths. This is a personal missive, a labour — yes — of love, that's about as honest as she's always been in song. Is it about hyperbole? Yes, she says, focusing on the perhaps overly dramatic "whirlwind of emotion" associated with past relationships and heartbreak.
But, of course, there's also love. She easily admits she is in love right now, though demurs on the specifics: "This album, I really tried to make it chronological. And so the last few songs on the album kind of ended off in the place that I'm in right now, which is in a very happy place, emotionally," she says, before laughing lightly. "For details, you can listen to the album. For all the details, I'll leave it to the music."
The result is an intriguing mix of admission and obfuscation — of pessimism and hope — for Cara's fourth studio outing. To exemplify that contrast, she points to the songs Subside, appearing earlier on in the track list, and Fire, which pops up toward the end. To her, the songs are connected opposites. The former is a somewhat depressing, purposefully dour portrait of nihilism, recreating the moment in a young person's life when they first realize that one day, they and everyone they know will die, so what's the point of anything?
"On the other end of that coin, we have a song like Fire, which was kind of about me learning that, you know, yes, nothing matters. But how can I use that phrase and that sentiment for good?" she says. "If things all go away and if nothing matters and if everything is temporary, then why not enjoy it while we can?"
It's another window into her soul. Cara, it would seem, is an unabashed absurdist: someone who acknowledges that nothing has any intrinsic meaning outside of one's own decisions on what makes life important. Currently, that meaning rests in live performances; the singer is using Love & Hyperbole to return to touring, something that's been off her radar for six years — since just before her turn as the 2020 Junos host was cancelled over the COVID-19 pandemic.
With her first Canadian tour date scheduled for Wednesday, that return is starting to feel all the more real.
"I'm at the point where it's been long enough that it feels kind of scary to get back into it again," she says. "So I'm a little bit scared, but I'm mostly excited, especially to play these new songs."
It's also an opportunity for reflection. She may be young, but the decade she's spent in the industry has been one of music's most difficult, and most transformative — disrupted by everything from COVID-19 to streaming to AI. Getting through it, and emerging as relatively scar-free as she has, is a point of pride.
"I'm most proud of maintaining my sense of identity, you know, because I had a lot of success, and the whole whirlwind sort of happened during very formative years for me," she says. "The fact that I was able to maintain my sense of self and my integrity through it all is something I'm very proud of."
