It was a brisk late November day when I met with Lara Rawadi, also known by her stage name Laraw (pronounced LAIR-UH). She was opening for Ash Molloy at the Rivoli on Queen Street West in Toronto. I was quite nervous to meet with Lara, as I had spent much of the last year and a half listening to her music and I had never interviewed someone before. She meets me at the front of the concert hall, where I was greeted with a shy warmth. We enter and begin our conversation.
I have always been drawn to artistic vulnerability. As an artist, one of the reasons I gravitated to Lara’s music is because of the raw, unreserved nature of her lyricism. With each play of her music, the listener gets a sense of the time and place Lara was when she wrote that song.
Curious about her approach to songwriting, I ask about her process. Lara answers, “I started writing in a journal…so it was really taking my journal and turning it into something you can listen and see yourself go through as well.”
As she tells me this, I think of several tracks that fits that particular bill: Fucks Me Up, Teach Me How to Love and Quarter Life Crisis. Fucks Me Up is one of her most open songs, bearing open the raw heartache after a break-up. Similarly, Teach Me How to Love invites us to consider our insecurities in the face of love, particularly when you have been burned in the past. And every single time I listen to Quarter Life Crisis? I feel that mid-twenties angst all over again. As a person on the precipice of turning 30, I know it’s not that far behind for myself either.
Lara elaborates further about her image-based writing,
“My writing is based on an image I have, it’s sort of like seeing title on a painting. I have clear image when I write a song, and I try to describe this image through words. It’s kind of like if I painted a very fucked up image of my life, and try to explain with emotions what I was going through.”
The process Lara describes enlightens me, both as an interviewer and a fan, about what the behind-the-scenes creative world is like. I can see clearly what she means when she talks about image-based writing because I see the parallels clearly in songs like Ray and Kiss Me on the Floor. In Ray, I feel this sort of sunshiny day spent with a loved one punctuated with moments of joy and gratitude. On the other hand, Kiss Me on the Floor feels more like a hazy, pastel coloured dream sequence.
The more time I spend with Lara, the more I am endeared to her. Talking with Lara, I am reminded that supporting Canadian music goes beyond just engaging with an artist’s music; it’s about seeing someone’s passion and vision become alive. Every little element is thought about, from start to finish. Later on, when she goes on to perform, I see Lara become Laraw in her all white outfit for the stage, adorned with her green guitar.
Sometimes the path we take to become what we are meant to be is unconventional. When Lara first started writing and making music, she was doing it for fun. As her songs began to gain traction, she got signed and things moved quickly. “Over the years, I grew and I wanted to take this more seriously and for it to represent who I really am. And it’s not that I didn’t take it seriously, I just didn’t think it was a possibility.”
The world of music moves quickly, but for Lara, she knew she had to slow down to learn about her style of writing and music. In this process, an artist has to take the time to think about the kind of music they want to release, and what they are trying to say with it. The musical evolution of Lara’s sound from her early tracks is a bit different than what she makes now, but those songs eventually culminate into her debut record, Quarter Life Crisis. The essence of Lara can be heard throughout her career so far.
Speaking of going slow and understanding yourself, Lara made the decision to leave her first label. The big label machine requires their singers to become hit-makers, rather than fully realized artists with a clear vision. It was clear the label-artist relationship was not a symbiotic one. It seems some of these relationships can be more parasitic, where the big labels are eager to make a profit off a viral moment. She says, “That kind of mentality drains you so quickly.”
“I’m so much happier at Bravo,” she tells me. And with her joyous demeanour talking about Bravo, I know she means it. Her new label seems much more interested in nurturing artistic development, and ensuring a career that the artist is proud of. The fit is much more seamless.
When I ask Lara about her plans for the future, she tells me to hold on tight for a new album that she will be working on. “I’m so happy just making music, that everything else just seems crazy,” Lara says earnestly. I can understand that surreal feeling of your dream career becoming a reality.
On her inspirations for her next album, Lara tells me it’s going to be dreamy and cinematic. She cannot divulge too much information but she does tell me the next album’s narrative arc will continue from her first record. It will illustrate a natural flow of Lara’s life so far, and as she puts it, “It sounds better!” I have no doubt about that.
Thinking back to when Lara was telling me about her songwriting process, she tells me that, “These were the first songs I’d ever written. Music was not the path that I was going to take.” I remember immediately feeling a strong sense of camaraderie with her. I, too, have not planned the route that my life has taken me on, but I’m here for the ride. I see that Lara is on her ride too, and she invites us to be on it with her. I will happily join, anytime.
You can listen to Laraw’s newest single Sorry below and anywhere you get your music.
You can also listen Quarter Life Crisis below or on your preferred streaming platform.
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