Chappell Roan: 'I'd be more successful if I wore a muzzle'

Published: Jan 20 2025

Over the past twelve months, the 26-year-old sensation has emerged as the most buzzworthy star in the pop realm. A flamboyant figure with fiery red hair, her songs are as vibrant and raw as they are captivating. Her debut album, quietly released in 2023, has recently ascended to the UK charts for a second time. Next week, she will be contending for six Grammy Awards, including the esteemed Best New Artist category. Furthermore, BBC Radio 1 has bestowed upon her the title of their Sound Of 2025.

The sweetness of her success is all the more profound considering her former record label's reluctance to release many of the tracks that skyrocketed to chart-topping fame last year. "They said, 'This won't work. We just don't get it,'" Roan shared with Radio 1's Jack Saunders.

Reaching the elite A-list of pop music is not just a validation of her talent but a groundbreaking achievement. At 26, she stands as the first female pop star to attain mainstream success while openly embracing her queer identity, rather than coming out post-fame.

Chappell Roan: 'I'd be more successful if I wore a muzzle' 1

On a personal front, she has finally gained the financial stability to move into her own home and adopt a rescue cat named Cherub Lou. "She's tiny, her breath smells terrible, and she doesn't even meow," the singer says affectionately.

While kitten ownership may be one of the perks of fame, Roan has faced the darker side with defiance. She has spoken out against abusive fans, calling attention to the "creepy behavior" of individuals who harass her in airport lines and "stalk" her parents' home. Last September, she went viral after curses were hurled at a photographer who was shouting obscenities at stars on the red carpet of the MTV Awards.

"I looked around and thought, 'This is what people consider normal? And I'm supposed to act like nothing's wrong? This isn't normal. This is insane,'" she reminisces.

The incident made headlines, with British tabloids labeling her outburst as the "tantrum" of a "spoiled diva." However, Roan remains unrepentant.

"I've responded that way to disrespect my entire life, but now there are cameras on me, and I happen to be a pop star. Those two things don't mix; they're like oil and water," she explains.

Roan asserts that musicians are often trained to be obedient, with standing up for oneself portrayed as whining or ingratitude. Rejecting conventional norms comes at a cost.

"Actually, I think I'd be more successful if I wore a muzzle and just went along with everything," she jokes. "If I were to suppress more of my basic instincts and ignore the voice in my heart saying, 'Stop, stop, stop, this isn't right,' I would be bigger. Much bigger... And I'd still be on tour right now."

Indeed, Roan refused the pressure to extend her 2024 tour to safeguard her physical and mental well-being. She attributes this resolve to her late grandfather.

"There's something he said that I keep in mind with every career move I make: There are always options," she shares. "So when someone says, 'Do this concert because you'll never be offered that much money again,' I think, who cares? If I don't feel like doing it right now, there are always options. Opportunities aren't scarce. I think about that constantly."

As avid fans are well aware by this point, Roan, born Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, grew up in Willard, Missouri, nestled in the heart of the Bible Belt. The eldest among four siblings, her aspirations initially leaned towards acting; however, for quite some time, it seemed as though her destiny was paved with sports. She participated in state-level competitions and was almost destined for a cross-country college career. Yet, fate had other plans when, at the tender age of 13, she entered a singing contest and emerged victorious. Soon afterward, she penned her maiden composition, a heartfelt tune inspired by an unrequited crush on a Mormon boy whose religious beliefs prohibited dating outside his faith.

In honor of her grandfather, Dennis K. Chappell, and his beloved Western ballad, "The Strawberry Roan," she adopted her stage moniker. Recalling him fondly, she shares, "He was both hilarious and incredibly wise. He never doubted my capabilities. Many advised me to pursue country music or Christian tunes, but he never pressured me into any path. He simply encouraged, 'You don't need a plan B. Just go for it.'"

It wasn't long before her gothic ballad, "Die Young," captured the attention of Atlantic Records, leading to her signing at just 17 years old. Relocating to Los Angeles, she released her debut EP, "School Nights," in 2017. While solid, the album lacked distinction, immersing listeners in a blend reminiscent of Lana Del Rey and Lorde.

Roan's unique voice truly emerged when a group of gay friends introduced her to a drag bar. "Stepping into that West Hollywood club felt like stepping into heaven," she recounted to the BBC the previous year. "Witnessing the joy and confidence exuded by those individuals was breathtaking. And those go-go dancers! I was mesmerized, unable to tear my eyes away. I thought to myself, 'I have to try that!'"

Although she didn't take to the dance floor, she did pen a song envisioning herself as a dancer and how her mother might react. Inspired by a strip bar in her hometown, she titled it "Pink Pony Club." "That song marked a turning point," she reveals. "It propelled me into a new realm. I never fancied myself a 'pop star girl,' but 'Pink Pony' forced me into that role." Her label, however, disagreed, withholding the song's release for two years. Shortly after relenting, they dropped Roan amid pandemic-induced cost-cutting measures.

Defeated but resilient, she returned home, spending a year working at a drive-through doughnut shop. "It positively influenced me," she muses. "Knowing what it's like to clean a public restroom is invaluable." This period was transformative in other aspects too. She saved her earnings, suffered heartbreak at the hands of someone with "pale blue eyes," moved back to Los Angeles, and gave herself a year to make it big.

Though it took slightly longer, Roan hit the ground running. During her exile, she maintained contact with her "Pink Pony Club" co-writer, Daniel Nigro. He was also collaborating with another budding singer, Olivia Rodrigo. As Rodrigo's career soared, Roan found herself courtside, supporting her on tour and providing backing vocals for her second album, "Guts." More crucially, Nigro leveraged this momentum to sign Roan to his own record label, ensuring the release of her debut album in September 2023.

Initially, it seemed her original label had been prescient. Sales were underwhelming, and audiences were slow to embrace her bold queer anthems, which stood in stark contrast to the prevalent whispery, confessional pop trend. However, these songs came alive on stage. Big, exhilarating, and designed for audience interaction, they reached new heights through Roan's powerful voice and flamboyant stage presence.

"A drag queen doesn't ascend the stage to soothe," she asserts. "They don't utter words to flatter. A queen makes you blush, you know what I mean? Expect the same electric energy at my show." Indeed, it was a live-streamed performance at last year's Coachella Festival that catapulted her into the elite realm of pop stardom.

Clad in a provocative PVC crop top emblazoned with the teasing phrase "Eat Me," she commanded the crowded Gobi tent with the presence of a headliner, confidently striding across the stage and guiding the audience through the playful choreography of "Hot To Go." Locking eyes with the camera lens, she dedicated a soul-baring tune to her ex, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she sang, "Bitch, I know you're watching... and all that karma's coming back to haunt you." This bold moment quickly went viral, catapulting her career into the stratosphere.

By summer's warmth, her concerts were upgraded to larger venues, with festivals scrambling to accommodate her growing fanbase on ever-larger stages. When she graced the Lollapalooza stage in August, she amassed the festival's largest daytime crowd in its history. "It just takes a decade," she mused philosophically. "That's what I tell everyone. 'If you're patient enough for ten years, you'll be just fine.'"

As listeners embraced her debut album, Roan unveiled a standalone single, the irreverent synth-pop gem "Good Luck Babe," which became her breakthrough hit. She revealed, with a hint of amusement, "I don't think I've ever shared this in an interview, but it was originally titled 'Good Luck, Jane.' It was meant to capture the heartbreak of falling for my best friend, only for her to respond, 'Ha ha ha, sorry, I'm into boys.'" The sarcasm was palpable: "OK, well, good luck with that, Jane."

"Good Luck Babe" was a masterclass in pop narrative, unfolding like a three-act play with a mesmerizing middle eight and an unforgettable chorus that lingered in the air. Even Roan was taken aback by its success. "I just threw it out there, unsure of its fate – and it ended up carrying me through the entire year!"

Now, with the title of "Sound of 2025" firmly in her grasp, the question looms: what's next for this rising star? She's already teased two new tracks, "The Subway" and "The Giver," during her concerts, but remains tight-lipped about her second album, hinting only that she's "less inclined towards sadness or darkness." "Partying feels so darn good," she explained with a grin.

Reflecting on the past twelve months, she adopted a philosophical stance on being pop's hottest new sensation. "Many see fame as the pinnacle of success, believing that adoration is the ultimate desire," she mused. Roan admitted that the admiration of strangers was more "addictive" than anticipated. "I get why I'm terrified of losing this feeling," she confessed. "The thought of people one day caring less about you is daunting, especially for women, who might grapple with this fear differently than men."

Ultimately, she concluded that success and failure were "beyond my control." Instead, she focused on making the right choices. "If I can look back and say, 'I stood strong against the weight of expectation and refused to be abused or blackmailed,' then at least I remained true to myself," she declared firmly. "As I've said before, there are always options."


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