On Her Second Album as Fashion Club, Pascal Stevenson Soars Above the Static

“I feel so much happier with how I look now than I did years ago,” Stevenson says between sips of her latte. “I’m able to look in the mirror and be like, ‘I feel hot.’ And that was unimaginable to me for most of my life.”

But even with that newfound confidence, Stevenson still has her regrets. Being in the public eye and performing since she was fourteen, she wishes there were less documentation of her before transition — a phenomenon that a new wave of trans artists and creatives who fully came of age during the social media era have had to contend with. “There’s an endless amount of pictures of me on the internet. I could change my name, but it wouldn’t really make a difference. I try to just be funny about it,” she says smiling. “So much of living as a queer person is having to reframe shit that sucks into something that is funny. It’s why gay people are obsessed with tragic shit being iconic.”

Though she is grateful for all her personal growth, she has concerns about a life of professional musicianship that go beyond the occasional “weird interaction” with a sound tech. “Am I less likely to be successful now? Am I less likely to get booked now?” she wonders aloud. “All of that shit, I already felt from just being Black. That didn’t really change after the transition.” Still, there are not many other Black artists in her “specific market of indie rock,” and in a moment of self-deprecating humor, she tries to bury the concern: “I’m still very unlikely to be famous or even successful. So whatever.”

Her self-effacing remarks seem like a survival strategy for navigating an increasingly tumultuous industry, but they completely undersell her wild innovative spirit. The songs on Stevenson’s sophomore effort are poised, nearly unshakable. If Scrutiny was a shy entrance, A Love You Cannot Shake is a catwalk strut. “One Day,” in particular, serves as a manifesto of resilient defiance. Over new-wave rhythms and mutant synth bass, Stevenson sings with bravado: “One day I’m gonna wake up happy / I don’t know how and I don’t know when / But no amount of miserable news is gonna make me miserable again.” The song defines happiness as an action — something you strive for until it sticks to you. For Stevenson, the key to joy is acceptance, that unwavering ability to meet the moment as it is and not as one thinks it should be. A Love You Cannot Shake is intrinsically optimistic not despite these deep excursions into darkness and shadow, but precisely because of them. There is pain in change because change is possible.

When Stevenson reflects on her past compared to who she is now, and on who she aspires to be in the future, she recognizes that these various versions of herself are interconnected. The goalposts in her life are constantly shifting, as her desires and dreams evolve, both personally and professionally. She might never be fully satisfied but that’s what makes her such an intrepid artist. “I want to produce for Björk. For her to choose me as one of her cool transsexuals,” she muses. And as her star rises, such pie-in-the-sky daydreams could become reality, as she’s already produced music for Sasami and, most recently, a track by Los Angeles pop singer Clarity featuring Clairo that will appear on Red Hot’s upcoming TRANSA compilation.

Even as she jokes about career failure, Stevenson can’t escape the hope that ultimately underlies her new LP. She sees beauty everywhere, in the mundane — and even the inane. “I’m obsessed with finding something stupid [online] that is unintentionally and incredibly emotional,” she says, as one example. “When a video that is not meant to make me cry, makes me cry… I love that shit.”

That gift to see beauty in overlooked and unexpected places is what will continue to set her apart. Whether it’s the ugly creak of an acoustic guitar or the glitchy noise of Ableton detritus, she can craft it into something more gorgeous than the sum of its parts, in the way that only someone who’s been through hell and back can.

A Love You Cannot Shake is available October 25 via Felte.

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