“Art is meant to evolve. Musicians shouldn’t be caged by marketing—creativity is magic, and marketing shouldn’t dampen magic.” Heather Mae’s music is shaped by personal experiences. With a strong, expressive voice that carries both intensity and nuance, she moves between alternative rock, indie pop, and folk, creating space for reflection and connection. Her work often explores themes of identity, resilience, and change, offering listeners a sense of recognition in their own stories.
Her new double album, WHAT THEY HID FROM ME and kiss & tell, follows this path. WHAT THEY HID FROM ME focuses on unlearning, survival, and confronting the past, while kiss & tell is about stepping into something new. The albums were created entirely by women and nonbinary music makers, something that was important to Heather in shaping their sound and message.
In this interview, she shares more about the process of writing these albums, how she approaches songwriting, and how her perspective on music and success has shifted over time.
photography by Laura Schneider
What inspired you to release a double album? (smiles)
Honestly? Chaos. When I started writing these songs, I realized they were living in two completely different sonic universes. Some belonged in a sweaty rock club with flickering neon lights, while others needed to blast from a Pride float covered in glitter. Instead of forcing them into one album, I leaned in and gave them each the world they deserved. Also…can we stop telling artists what they have to do? Art is meant to evolve and shift—that’s the whole point. Musicians shouldn’t have to stick to one genre just because it makes sense for marketing or the outside world. That’s insane. It’s a cage on creativity. If an artist feels the call, they should be able to create whatever they want—that’s the job. To make art. To inspire. To pull something from nothing. It’s magic. And marketing shouldn’t dampen magic.
How do WHAT THEY HID FROM ME and kiss & tell complement each other thematically?
They’re two sides of the same coin—truth and liberation. WHAT THEY HID FROM ME is the reckoning, the burning down, the unlearning. It’s me confronting religious trauma, survival, and self-worth. kiss & tell is the rebirth, the freedom, the joy. It’s me stepping into queerness, sexuality, and pleasure without apology. Together, they tell the full story: breaking free and learning how to live loudly.
Your music addresses deeper topics like mental health and resilience. How do you approach songwriting when tackling such personal and societal issues?
I don’t demand a song be written. I don’t sit down and say, “It’s time to write a song about ____.” I wait for the call. I listen to the sometimes gentle nod, sometimes a kick in the back, from my guides, my Goddess, the universe—call it whatever you want. When I feel the task has been assigned, I write from the raw and deeply personal, because that’s what makes it universal, every time. Writing from my unpretty, painful lived experience means my listeners have something real to hold onto. Even if it’s not their story, they can feel what it’s like to walk in my shoes—and that’s intentional. My ultimate goal is to create space for empathy and compassion—for others, for themselves—because that’s what sparks real change in the world. A song that’s too detached from the issue? That’s just a half-baked social justice song, in my opinion.
“I knew there were other survivors like me in that hotel room. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them.”
And how do you decide when a track feels complete?
When it punches me in the gut. When I can step back, listen, and feel it physically. Like, okay—that’s the feeling I wanted to create. That’s when I know. When I feel more joy in my body than criticism in my head.
If you had to choose one song from WHAT THEY HID FROM ME and one from kiss & tell that holds the deepest meaning for you—whether personally or creatively—which would they be, and why?
From WHAT THEY HID FROM ME, it’s What I Know Now. Writing that song—a detailed account of how I was raped by a man named Mark when I was 18—was one of the most powerful songwriting experiences I’ve ever had. At the time, I was attending a music conference, and in between panels, I went back to my hotel room to write. I had never put my rape into a song before, and when I picked up my guitar, the first line came to me: “18 years old in the back of a bar.” As soon as I wrote it down, I heard my own voice push back: “No, we don’t write about 18.” But then, something deeper—something that didn’t feel entirely my own—spoke back: “It’s time.” That presence stayed with me as I wrote, and two hours later, the song was finished. I knew it then, and I know it now—there were other survivors like me in that hotel room. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel them. This song is as much for them as it is for me.
From kiss & tell, it’s Kissing Girls because it’s the song my younger self needed. It’s my way of saying: Queer joy is not shameful.
“I stopped asking for permission. Musically, I take risks. Personally, I’m softer—more forgiving of myself, more playful.”
Has your definition of success changed over time?
100%. It used to be about numbers—streams, ticket sales, industry validation. Now, success is someone telling me my music helped them come out, stay alive, or just feel seen. That’s it. That’s everything.
Social media can be both a powerful tool and a challenging space. How do you maintain authenticity while setting boundaries online?
I show up when I have something real to say, and I disappear when I need to breathe. Social media is a tool for communicating. If I start feeling like I owe the internet more than I owe myself, it’s time to log off. Also, my rule is no social media before 10am or after 10pm.
Looking back on your earlier work, how do you feel you’ve evolved musically and personally?
I stopped asking for permission. Musically, I’m bolder, riskier—I let my gut lead. Personally, I’m softer. More forgiving of myself, which means I get to be more playful. I co-produced kiss & tell with my buddy and fellow female producer, Lollies, and let me tell you—as a woman, when you no longer have to ask a man if it’s okay to spend time chasing the perfect 808, layering samples, or reworking a guitar pass, you unlock a whole new level of creativity. You try weird things. You push the boundaries. You make art without hesitation. That’s what this album is—creative freedom, fully unhinged.
“I know a song is done when it punches me in the gut—when I feel more joy in my body than criticism in my head.”
What’s something simple in your daily life that brings you the most joy right now?
As a poly girl, it has to be the love and support of my partners—romantic and platonic. I am swimming in abundance and I’m so, so grateful for my chosen family.
Where do you see yourself in around 10 years?
Honestly? I just hope I’m still here. As a Bipolar, Queer woman in an interracial relationship, living in the South—where our rights are under attack every single day—I can’t help but wonder if I’ll even get to see 10 years from now. But if I do? I hope the fight looks different. I hope we’re not still having to prove that we belong, that we deserve safety, joy, and love. I hope we’re living in a world where justice isn’t a battle, but a given. Where queer kids grow up knowing they are safe, where resistance isn’t survival, where we have autonomy over our bodies. That’s the future I’m fighting for. I hope I get to see it one day.
The most important thing in life is…?
To love loudly and live unapologetically.
Follow Heather Mae for more:
www.instagram.com/heathermaemusic
www.tiktok.com/@heathermaemusic
