I have to say, reading about Sky Ferreira‘s tumultuous journey with Capitol Records leaves me with a profound sense of admiration and empathy for her resilience. Her story is a testament to the struggles faced by many artists who dare to challenge the status quo in an industry that often seems more interested in molding its stars than nurturing their unique voices.
Exploring the numerous folklores surrounding the renowned singer-songwriter Sky Ferreira might leave one feeling overwhelmed about where to start.
Possibly, she relocated from Los Angeles to New York City at the age of 15, with aspirations to model, perform music, and act – all inspired by her admiration for Madonna.
Her rise to fame as a teen, thanks to self-publishing songs on MySpace, served as an early model of the viral pop star phenomenon.
It’s possible that her connection to Michael Jackson during her childhood vacations stemmed from the fact that her grandmother worked as his hairstylist.
Perhaps, the ongoing struggle could be described as musical skirmishes. Ferreira’s second album, titled “Masochism“, has been held back for nine years without a release date set. A long-standing battle has ensued with Capitol Records – a conflict so profound and oppressive that someone (the identity remains unclear) hired an airplane to fly over the Capitol Tower bearing the message “Free Sky Ferreira” last year. (She claims she wasn’t in Los Angeles during that time.)
That last part is now changing — maybe.
On Thursday, Ferreira, aged 32, will unveil a fresh track, contributing to the soundtrack of the upcoming movie “Babygirl“. To some in the pop world, this could appear as an ordinary occurrence, another digital release blending with countless others. However, for devoted Ferreira fans (evidently a significant number if we look into certain sections of Reddit, YouTube, and TikTok), this is a momentous occasion.
For over a decade, Ferreira has released songs following her groundbreaking (and turbulent) debut album “Night Time, My Time“. However, these songs have consistently been under the management of Capitol Records, with whom she’s had one of music’s most contentious disputes. This time, she’s taking a solo route, asked by A24, director Halina Reijn, and music supervisor Meghan Currier to create a song for Nicole Kidman’s film that encapsulates the movie’s theme of sexual freedom as well as Ferreira’s personal thoughts on the barriers hindering women’s creativity. Unsurprisingly, the track is named “Leash”.
From the first seconds, awash in feedback and a Smiths-like riff, the song is pure Sky, snarl and vulnerability each jockeying for their place. The lyrics foreground sexual politics as they carry into a latter-day Madonna chorus. But it’s easy to feel the undercurrent of the professional kind as well. “I bit my tongue/And bled the truth/As I live and breathe/I’m dead to you,” she sings. You can listen to the song here.
Ferreira’s latest track from 2022, titled “Don’t Forget,” contained a covert, bitter message aimed at Capitol and its Universal Music Group headquarters. (“A fire is raging on your street/Terrifying the entire neighborhood/Little girl in trouble, you notice/Burning down your house of certainty.”) Notably, she funded its production herself, yet it was still under their label.
Contrarily, “Leash” is entirely owned by her, both in terms of content and legal rights; Capitol officially terminated her contract in November 2023. Furthermore, the four minutes that conclude the credits of “Babygirl” ensure that its creator remains prominent.
Ferreira describes the relationship portrayed on screen as deeply troubled and dark. She aimed to reflect this in the song she wrote, performed, produced, and mixed herself. The song, according to her, represents a blend of both her and the Kidman character’s yearning for freedom.
The term ‘Leash’ is vying for an Oscar too. If it receives a nomination from Hollywood’s most traditional institution, following years of disrupting one of their major corporations, it would certainly make for an unexpected conclusion.
Lasting over two hours one evening at The Dresden recently, where she resides nearby, the musician was a blend of resentful, relieved, and, despite her chatty demeanor, remained somewhat enigmatic. Sky Ferreira is now liberated to share details about the past decade of her life hidden behind corporate barriers. However, more conversation does not equate to less mystery.
In the restaurant, Ferreira appears not merely unique but almost out of time – a vibrant, living embodiment of a Goth mystery, standing out when such characters are typically found only in moderately budgeted biographical films.
Ferreira made her mark on the alternative pop music scene in the first half of the 2010s with hits like “99 Tears,” “Everything Is Embarrassing,” and notably, “You’re Not The One,” a song about unrequited love with a catchy rhythm and poetic lyrics; it gained popularity not just as a club anthem but also in more edgy clubs. Ferreira even performed this song on “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon.” A few years prior, at only 20 years old, she was signed to Capitol Records following earlier commitments to Parlophone. Record label executives were thrilled about a talent who had a significant online fanbase, a unique vocal style that instantly stood out, an intriguing mysterious personality, and in her songwriting, a rare insight into pop music’s complex past.
At night, numerous sessions were held. She released the album following several years of battling Capitol, agreeing to cover a significant portion of its costs herself. This self-funded record demonstrated a remarkable transformation from the synth-pop influences of Madonna and Lisa Lisa on those initial MySpace recordings to the melodies laced with distortion reminiscent of early bands like Suicide and The Jesus and Mary Chain. The arrangements skillfully danced, teasingly oscillating between past and present.
The opening “Leash” features rough melodies, characteristic of a style that blends the raw intensity of industrial music with the emotional depth of soulful tunes. This unique combination aims to maintain a balance between intense frustration towards the complexities of life and a soft appreciation for its inherent pain and beauty in listeners.
Despite being associated with Charli XCX and other young millennial stars during the transition-to-streaming era of the 2010s, Ferreira has distanced herself from that group in recent years. During our discussion in Dresden, she appeared to be both cognizant of, and only slightly resentful about, the consequences of her absence from large-scale concerts and releases. “People see me at a party, and it’s like they’ve seen a ghost,” she notes, followed by a laugh that blends apprehension with pride. If Ferreira’s world has shrunk, she seems mostly content with this state of affairs, spending time with a close-knit group of friends that includes her personally selected publicist and advisor, Jen Appel – another small act of independence from Capitol, who she claims didn’t want her working with the publicist.
Undeniably, stepping away from the spotlight has only magnified Ferreira’s renown within online fan communities. Diving into the Skyverse feels like entering a whirlwind debate about whether she’s a prisoner of her own high standards (a widely held belief), grappling with writer’s block (same camp), battling anxiety (definitely a contender), or simply a victim of an unforgiving industry that doesn’t allow Sky to shine as brightly as she ought to.
At The Dresden, she strongly advocates for the second option, repeatedly emphasizing her core point. This revolves around the idea that after a series of creative disputes in the early 2010s, Capitol switched from disagreements to a vendetta against her. They prevented her from doing interviews, refused to pay for studio time or videos, instructed radio programmers not to play her songs, boycotted collaborations with her, and delayed releasing tracks as a form of punishment – all of which lasted for years.
She remarks that it was both malicious and targeted towards her personally, echoing similar statements. There seemed to be no justification other than causing her harm for the actions taken.
Each story surpasses the last in astonishment, though this might not be the case if one were familiar with the contemporary music industry. At some point, she recalls, the executives informed her that they couldn’t terminate her contract unless she produced seven albums; what’s disheartening is that she claims she had already supplied such a quantity of music, but Capitol refused to release any of it in order to keep her bound by the contract. “They wanted me trapped,” she says. Primarily, she made a living through modeling (for Hilfiger and Adidas) and acting (in Baby Driver and Twin Peaks: The Return).
She explains that the initial clashes at the Capitol were due to her desire to perfect the music, stating that they seemed to be treating it like a chaotic game show such as “Supermarket Sweep“. Regarding the term ‘difficult’, she questioned its meaning, asking, “What does challenging even mean? It’s almost like saying, ‘I’m sorry I’m not mindless and thoughtless?’
She deliberately timed the termination of the contract, claiming it was around ten years since the launch of her album “Night Time”. Ferreira interprets this as a psychologically torturous tactic akin to “we control you”. In her words, “I believe they were trying to mess with me” because she had expressed her desire to release “Masochism” before that anniversary. She states that the label announced the release via an email that seemed automated.
As a fervent admirer, I can’t disclose the identities of those allegedly involved in the Capitol breach, as I don’t have that information at hand. Considering the significant changes in leadership at the company lately, the list could be extensive and potentially outdated. Regrettably, a representative from the Capitol declined to provide comments for this article.
However, one might wonder why Ferreira didn’t employ additional lawyers to battle UMG. But upon closer inspection, the situation may appear bleak and tragic, regardless of the individual’s determination: a talented artist unable to share her music with the world due to the shame it would bring to a large corporation she simply can’t challenge.
She reflected that, in the world of entertainment, things often return to a familiar pattern. People are initially drawn to you, she explains, but once they realize you’re an individual with your own thoughts and won’t be easily manipulated, their interest may wane. Pausing thoughtfully, she added, “They might also come to the realization that they won’t make as much profit from you as they initially anticipated.
Ferreira points out that if she found the music industry disingenuous in the past, it’s even more insincere now. She questions why so many artists today are boasting about their authenticity when they should just let their work speak for itself. She also criticizes how some artists on major labels are marketed as independent, and she wonders aloud where they think the money to produce an album comes from.
Ferreira’s voice might remind you of Holden Caulfield, intentionally or through hard work. She carries an aura of legend in today’s supposedly non-mythical era. Plus, she appears detached from the internet, unaware of common 2024 election memes for example. Yet, her narratives about her initial travels are delivered with a touch of self-dramatization.
As a young gamer growing up in New York, I’ve had my fair share of unforgettable experiences. One time, I sneaked into the legendary Don Hill’s club and ended up meeting Iggy Pop. To my surprise, our encounter was less about music and more about his shiny convertible in Miami.
Did it really happen that she was invited to audition for the role of Joan Baez in the upcoming Dylan film A Complete Unknown? Ferreira narrates extraordinary tales with a casual, everyday mumble that gives them an air of authenticity, like a contemporary Zelig who appears in various physical locations while others fade into the online void.
More frequently than not, Ferreira appears to dwell on the last decade of the Capitol conflict, clinging to it so tightly that even subtle hints suggesting Leash offers a fresh beginning rarely make an impact. She frequently revisits the supposed wrongdoings. To those who question, her stubbornness might serve as evidence supporting the notion that Ferreira is her own biggest obstacle.
It’s also possible that failing to emotionally detach from the past may serve as a testament to the severity of her mistreatment. No genuine young female artist would describe the music industry as consistently nurturing and favorable. However, Ferreira’s account appears exceptionally challenging, with her acknowledged apprehensions potentially making her less capable of navigating these difficulties.
She shares that she engaged in competitive figure skating during her childhood years. She admits to placing high expectations upon herself, but she found it tolerable. However, what she couldn’t endure was the external pressure; when someone is shouting at her, she finds it difficult to cope. In such situations, she tends to react by easily shutting down.
A reluctance to play the gladhanding game also likely didn’t help. “They tried to media-train me when I was 15 and the teacher quit. He literally walked out.” She gives one of her knowing, semi-nervous laughs. “He said we couldn’t talk about religion, couldn’t talk about anything. It was in the basement of Capitol — how’s that for symbolism — and he walked out. Literally after an hour.” (In an email, Currier, the Babygirl music supervisor, called Ferreira “fearless.”)
It’s not uncommon for emerging artists like Ferreira to encounter disagreements with the Capitol. Last year, Halsey parted ways with the company following a long-standing dispute where the artist accused them of holding onto their music. In May 2022, they expressed their frustration on social media stating, “I have a song I’m eager to release immediately, but my record label won’t let me.” They claimed that the executives were hoping to contrive a viral trend on TikTok before releasing the music.
Ferreira appears to be deliberately vague about whether any tracks from her album Masochism could be reused in future records. Since she holds the publishing rights, it’s likely that she would need to re-record them, which can be expensive and requires funding typically provided by record labels. At present, there seems no indication of a larger plan to release a complete album. Instead, it appears she might continue at her current pace of releasing occasional songs every few years.
She’s made it clear that she has no intention of remaking the “Night Time” tracks, seeing as she had already paid to have them produced exactly to her liking. Those who have been captivated by the hypnotic whispers of “Omanko,” moved by the anthemic grandeur of “Boys,” or swayed to the rhythmic self-reflection of “I Blame Myself” (a nod to Shirley Manson’s style) can understand why a re-recording would be unnecessary, even in the realm of modern music. “Night Time” might just be the epitome of flawless 21st-century alternative music.
Ferreira acknowledges that her situation is profound, yet this recognition doesn’t diminish the validity of her complaint in any way.
In my own words as a gamer: “I wasn’t setting out to revolutionize the world, but I aimed to create something tangible. I had a passion for something, and they wouldn’t let me pursue it freely. All I wanted was to compose music that would resonate deeply with others. It seems like chance, apathy, or manipulation has prevented more of it from being made. Yet, much like many aspects of life, Sky, this question remains tantalizingly unanswered.
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2024-12-05 20:26