In this day and age, most mainstream music is put through the sterilization machine, removing all personal details in order to be the most relatable to a wider audience. While it’s great to be able to project your experience onto a song— and it can certainly be cathartic— it can also get boring. As fans, we want the artists that we look up to to feel like real people, not characters. In such an exploitative industry, it can be difficult to draw the boundary of how much you share with the public and what artists keep private for their health and safety; however with how easy it is to manipulate reality with social media, what consumers are craving most seems to be authenticity. We want realistic expectations, we want the inside messy thoughts, we want to learn about you and to see us.
Brye, a 21 year old singer and songwriter based in Tennessee, characterizes her music with her unabashed honesty and the difficult topics she writes about.
If you were on TikTok in 2020, you’ve likely have heard her song “Lemons,” featuring Cavetown (another indie artist). This was Brye’s first viral moment, though it wouldn’t be her last. The song, an argument with… possibly the worst man alive, voiced Brye’s frustrations with men, and how they are often egotistical and manipulative towards the women in their lives. Sound familiar? Yeah, that’s the point. At the time, Brye only had three other songs released on Spotify, and “Lemons” resulted in an immediate surge in popularity— it now has over 44 million streams on Spotify. Brye is a talented writer and producer, and has a beautiful voice. But I believe that the way that social media embraced this song is really telling of what stories we want to be told. The song is a message of self-empowerment, something that is hard to find in such a brash way as in the lyricism of “Lemons.” Brye continues this pattern in her work, writing songs that often focus on her experiences as a queer woman, as well as living with an eating disorder and her recovery.
There’s nothing wrong with my body / Fat is not a dirty word
-Brye, “Diet Culture”
Since she has been on the internet, Brye has been unapologetically open about her mental health, particularly her anorexia and OCD. Existing as a woman online is difficult enough, and Brye is a fat woman with an eating disorder. People suck! Brye has documented her recovery online, and this vulnerability has allowed her to grow an incredibly supportive following, as well as allow others struggling to feel represented and uplifted. This authenticity does not come without its struggles as she often is harassed by “gym bros” and other online bullies, but her bravery in standing up to them demonstrates to her audience how essential self confidence is. She not only backs up her work through factual evidence, but also the lessons that she has learned in therapy, and continually cements her decision to recover.
Brye’s second-most viral moment after “Lemons” touches on this very topic— her song titled “Diet Culture” became a body neutrality mantra across the internet. The hate that she received for this self-love anthem was outnumbered by the love she received from fans, old and new.
And don’t be fooled, Brye is not a two-hit wonder, nor a one trick pony. With 415K monthly listeners on Spotify and over 80 million streams on that service alone, she’s a successful full-time independent musician. Her music also covers a diverse range of topics. She gained other viral moments for songs such as “Jenna,” written about falling in love with a girl for the first time at Christian summer camp (if you know you know), and “Not A Baby,” a song about her frustrations around nepotism as an independent musician. Her debut album “RECOVER” (2023) is primarily centered around healing from her eating disorder, but also includes songs such as “Ode To A Recession,” which voices her fears about being unable to live the suburban life of her dreams, and “Too Sensitive,” which describes overstimulation. Her most recent release “Body Back,” had a minor blow up on TikTok as well, and details Brye’s experiences with sexual coercion.
These may be topics that people talk about, but Brye makes art about it, and through her exponentially increasing exposure, is bringing it into the mainstream. This is new, exciting, and refreshing, and fans want more.
My therapist says to surrender to change / And I feel myself changing every day
-Brye “Little Things”
Brye also takes the consequences of being a role model extremely seriously. “Direct Message,” also on her album, covers her complex feelings on being viewed as an inspiration by her following. Being a young woman herself, who is actively going through things— or growing through things, to pun off of her most recent EP title “Growing Through It” (2024)— with a large following, she carries a lot of responsibilities in terms of what she says and shares. This is a balance she clearly tries to work on; after years of being a public figure she has seemingly established a pattern of taking time to herself in order to process privately before coming forward and sharing her experiences on the internet. Sometimes this is through a snippet of a new song she decides to post, a candid video, or a substack post. As an independent musician, she has a small team she works with, and must rely on herself in order to help manage her work/life relationship. As a fan, it seems that she has the proper skills in place in order to communicate, but she’s also open about the tumultuous journey to where she is now, writing about burnout and giving us a peek behind the curtain of social media.
Brye’s instagram account, which she has been posting on since she was 16, is essentially a digital diary. It’s messy, its vulnerable, and it’s extremely public. In an age of photoshop, ever-critical analysis, and inauthentic AI, Brye makes the active choice to show her audience a fuller picture- acne scars, stretch marks, messy dating life and all. It invites hate, but it also inspires self-compassion and exists as a safe space for those who relate to Brye’s deeply human experiences. It also exists as an advertisement for her writing and music. Songs about mistakes, confidence, and mental health are rare, and her discography is full of them. This form of self-promotion is not suited for everybody. But this is one of Brye’s most unique assets at her disposal, and as her following only grows, it’s clear that it has been working. If you find yourself craving authentic, personal lyrics and layered instrumental production, maybe check her out on Spotify. And even if her music isn’t your cup of tea, her substack and videos are powerful and educational. Take her success as confirmation that vulnerability is a strength and something that we desperately need more of.