Tierra Whack: ‘I just want to remind people that I’m still human’

“Oh, it’s you,” Tierra Whack says, sitting in a boardroom overlooking the canal that runs through St Pancras. “I had a feeling I would see you again.”

About 15 minutes prior, I’d seen Whack while waiting in the foyer of the Universal Music Group headquarters. Arriving in a dark purple tracksuit, with a bright red, braided side ponytail, she’d walked straight up to the front desk, warmly greeting all the receptionists and asking how their day was going. We’d then got into the lift together: she was wearing her earphones, and while we briefly locked eyes, we did not speak. 

Later, with one headphone still in, she tells me that she was in her own head. Nervous about the interview, she was listening to music to calm her nerves, which seems surprising considering her easy confidence when interacting with people in the lobby. But this warmth, to her, is non-negotiable. She brings up meeting Idris Elba on a flight a few days prior – while she didn’t say anything to him (she tweeted about it instead), the encounter made her think a lot about her relationship with her fans. “I’m always thinking about how I can really make somebody’s day by being me, and that’s so powerful,” she says. “Just saying hi and being kind is one of my core values – you never know what people are going through.”

Despite the long list of accolades, grappling with fame was difficult and overwhelming. An observant, self-identified introvert, Whack began to notice the difference in how people in everyday life would treat her after seeing her large social media following. “Nobody else was famous but me where I come from,” she reflects. “I didn’t have anybody to relate to and I felt like I had no one to talk to who would truly understand.” Whack still feels uncomfortable with the label of ‘celebrity’, preferring instead the term ‘public figure’. “Celebrity makes me feel like I’m not human,” she explains. It’s a sentiment that shines through during our interview – at no point does she show an inkling of high maintenance or self-importance. “I just want to remind people that I’m still human and I’m just like everybody else,” she says. “I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to learn from my mistakes and always hold myself accountable. I just need grace because this is all still new to me.”

Now, with almost a decade of experience under her belt, she has found the balance needed to step into her new era. “It still is overwhelming but this time around, I feel like I’m ready. I wasn’t ready before.” Her latest offering World Wide Whack proves just that. Featuring 15 tracks, the 40-minute-long album investigates the reality of being a musician in this current cultural climate. Made with her close collaborator Kenete Simms, the album is true to her sonically experimental style: a fusion of multiple genres, she becomes a musical metamorph fluctuating from melodic R&B-like vocals to punchy rap, backed with unique production that makes your brain feel like it is being flossed. 

Opening with “Mood Swings”, a sincere and self-aware song which sets the tone for the album, the record is an honest account of her life over the last six years. Inspired by anything and everything, she explains her process as a journey of finding inspiration in both profound experiences and mundane moments. “I take notes of things, then when I’m in the studio I’ll have some beats playing and I just scroll through my notes,” she explains. “It’s a bunch of random notes that don’t make sense to anybody else, but I can go back and remember why I wrote it down.” She shows me that she has 3,505 notes on her phone.

One of the lead singles for the album, “27 Club” came from a particular note which reads “I could show you how it feels when you lose what you love.” In the chorus, she sings: “When the world feels like it’s against you / When your family and friends forget you / It ain’t really hard to convince you / Looking for something to commit to? / Suicide.” The lyrics, while haunting, offer a painfully realistic insight into suicidal ideation. On “Numb” she quite bluntly references self-harm, while on “Difficult”, she unpacks the experience of presenting as high-functioning while grappling with mental illness.

Amidst her struggles with depression and confusion around her public image, last year she lost her grandmother, which prompted transformative conversations with her mother. “I think I was just drowning in sadness,” she says. “I started to isolate myself, I didn’t want to go outside. I didn’t want to be around or to talk to anybody. I was a mess, just self-sabotaging. But I had talked to my mom, who is my favourite person in the world. My life goal was to make her proud and I’m doing that, I just had to realise it.”

As an artist dedicated to creating a full narrative, her public image included, Whack’s visuals have always been an integral part of her work. “I can’t really finish a song if I can’t visualise something in my head,” she says of her process. For World Wide Whack, she worked with conceptual artist Alex Da Corte on the pantomime-like cover art, reminiscent of a vintage Joker playing card. “He just understands me,” she explains, discussing working with Da Corte. “It just was like water the way we were just flowing ideas. We decided to break it down into a three-part series with three visuals. It’s the story and the life day in the life of World Wide Whack.”

The trilogy breaks down the life of the World Wide Whack persona, starting with “Shower Song” as the morning, “27 Club” as the afternoon, and “Two Night” as the evening. “It’s a day of this character that we created, which represents the face a performer is supposed to wear in front of millions, while just being alone in a crowd,” she explains. “It represents both sadness and joy, and finding the balance. But the character is still able to show up, perform and still inspire the masses on a stage.” While her public persona has always been centred around her eccentric image and personality, accentuated by her avant-garde, vivid style, her inner reality has been less colourful.

While the album grappled with heavy topics, it shouldn’t be written off as just another collection of sad songs. “It really was the great depression for me,” she says. “I was only making sad stuff, and I was mad that I was only making sad stuff. But once I got through it and I made the songs that I needed to make, I was able to come out on top and then get back with the more upbeat and happy music.” The result of feeling through her troubles leaves us with “Moovies”, a nostalgic, groovy song, or “Invitation” and “Chanel Pit” where she taps into her fun nursery rhyme flow with a certain finesse only Whack can do.

To Whack, this project has been a journey of “falling back in love with the essence and the reason” she first pursued her career in music. It is a tale of redefining success through accepting and navigating the messiness of life. By the time we say goodbye, her guard is completely down – and both her headphones are out.

World Wide Whack is out now.