Debby Friday is betting fully on herself

The record – a thunderous compilation of years of experimentation bred of devotional approach to the idea that “all of life is art” – achieved career-defining success, earning a Polaris Prize and launching her into orbit with a packed touring schedule. But now, as Friday speaks to me from the comfort of her Toronto home, she reflects on the unexpected cost of the momentum: the physical and psychological toll of over-reaching, and the slow recalibration required to keep creating without burning out. “I used to be the type to just say yes to everything,” she recalls. “I didn’t stop to check in with myself about whether I actually wanted to do something, or if I even had the energy for it.”

It didn't take long for the pace of her demanding agenda to catch up with her, culminating in a bout of stress-induced shingles at the end of 2023. “It was the first time I was faced with the reality that I could make myself so sick I couldn’t actually do what I’m here to do,” she says. The pain was physical, but the shock ran deep. It became a glaring reminder that without boundaries, ambition can threaten the very work it’s meant to serve. In dealing with the fallout, Friday admits that the past couple of years have been “psychologically difficult,” as she consciously forgoes industry expectations, remaining true to her own course.

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“There’s a lot of noise in the music industry, and sometimes that can get in the way of why you’re doing this in the first place,” she says of the realisation that marked an important turning point. “These last two years have been a process of getting my head in the game and refocusing my vision. I wanted to recognise my true goals without the cloudiness of the award, and the tour.”

Seeking realignment, Friday stepped back from touring, changed management, and took the reins herself for the very first time. Self-managing for a year was, in her words, “one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do,” but also one of the most empowering. “It taught me so much… how to advocate for myself, how to understand the business side. It gave me a kind of confidence I didn’t have before.”

That confidence underpins her newly released second album, The Starrr of the Queen of Life. Where GOOD LUCK was a daring introduction, its follow-up is something more vulnerable yet vast – an album that turns her gaze inward while stretching her sound further afield. “I’m naturally introverted,” she says. “I like to spend a lot of time alone, and I don’t like people all up in my business. On my previous projects I obscured myself, vocally, visually, in different ways that meant I wasn’t putting myself out in the open. On this record, I wanted to flip the script and open myself up more to whatever music and the universe have to offer me. The Starrr is very open, very honest. Even the sounds I gravitated toward feel more truthful to where I’m at in life right now.”

Honouring her truth, Friday has compiled a collection of songs rich with layered meaning and oblique references – nods to literature, art, history, and an eclectic archive of knowledge accrued over years of self-directed learning. It’s almost like a secret language encoded in her work. “I do describe myself as a very esoteric person. Like, esoteric baddie vibes,” she says with a smile. “I read a lot when I was younger, and I gravitated towards so many interests to comfort myself when I was lonely or spending time by myself. So I’ve always had a deep inner world. I used to spend a lot of time on the Internet, too. I love the Internet, the old web, where you could just go online and have this sense of discovery.”

While Friday is inviting audiences to indulge in these intricate landscapes formed of deep-dive pockets of information, she doesn’t expect it to resonate with everyone. “As an artist now, I can express my interests through my art and music,” she says. “I don’t care if people don’t necessarily get it. Either you’re gonna like it or you won’t. The right people will get it.”

This shift runs parallel to her evolving relationship with pop music. Making The Starrr of the Queen of Life has compelled her to be more accepting of the idea of having a wider reach, as long as she remains rooted in authenticity. “One thing I’ve changed my mind on with this album is popular music. The idea of being able to have mass appeal while staying centred within yourself,” she explains. “There’s nothing wrong with being popular, but my issue is when it feels inauthentic to a person or feigned. I don’t have it in me to fake it. So even though I’m okay with translating some of my experience to where people might be able to have a doorway of access into it, the core of it stays the same.”

One of her latest interests is human design, a knowledge system similar to astrology or numerology. “I’m just interested in the way that people understand the world,” she says, describing her approach to spirituality and religion as “very abstract and open, in the sense that I take whatever works and leave the rest.” “With all of the lenses that you can view this life and being human, there are so many different ways that you can look at that experience,” she adds.

Friday’s growing understanding of spiritual frameworks has been instrumental in her ability to not only connect with others but also re-establish her purpose. Through her research, she familiarised herself with the birth chart placement of Vega, the fifth brightest star visible from the Earth, and how it lends creativity, acclaim, and bravery as gifts. Effectively informing her own approach to success and reframing her objectives. “I’m a truth seeker,” she says. “I’m always searching for meaning and truth. I always want to get to the bottom of things. I think it’s part of the way I’m wired, maybe because I’m a Sagittarius.”

Taking what she learned from GOOD LUCK and the arduous journey that followed, The Starrr of the Queen of Life captures the next stage: the high-wire act of pursuing a dream while guarding against the fall. The album takes its title from the aforementioned Vega and its significance as an omen of creativity and courage, while also incorporating the Greek myth of Icarus to represent the thrill of ascent tempered by the risk of getting too close to the sun.

While Friday could appreciate the magnitude of baring more of herself on the record, she is conscious of the emotional toll. “There are a lot of ups and downs in making an album that bring out emotional extremes,” she reveals. “I ride all of my emotional waves and I really have to let myself feel things. Whether I feel like I got too close to the sun while recording depends on the day. But today I’m going to say I’m feeling good. I’m close to the sun, but I’m not gonna burn my wings.”

The extremes are evident in the music, with drastic transitions between crystalline falsetto and cutting rap cadences aligned with post-punk intensity and slinky house beats. Working closely with Australian producer Darcy Baylis, whom she first met on tour in 2023, sharpened that duality, bringing out Friday’s proclivity for dramatic range. “I’m a maximalist, he’s a minimalist,” she says. “We met in the middle in this really sweet way. I felt he was super supportive and really open to the things I wanted to try.”

Recording in London during downtime between shows became an intensive bootcamp: “Wake up, studio, bed, repeat.” The discipline suited her. “I like the idea of music as a craft. It’s something you practise every day, no matter your mood.”

Baylis also gave Friday the space to embrace singing more fully, drawing out a falsetto she’d only tentatively explored before. “I was shy about singing on this record, but he was really encouraging,” she admits fondly. I always thought of my voice as deep and gritty, but I realised I have this high register that’s just in the clouds. It’s something I didn’t know about myself before, and I feel more confident in it now.”

In addition to her increased vocal flexibility, visuals are an integral part of Friday’s world-building. She credits her fiancé, filmmaker Kevin Funk, with helping translate her abstract ideas into tangible imagery. “Kevin’s one of the best directors I’ve worked with. He has this command of a set, and he knows how to take my ideas, which can be a bit out-there, and make them concrete.” Their personal and creative partnership brings a trust that makes risk-taking feel safe. “We are on very similar wavelengths. We just understand each other. Obviously that’s at a personal level, but it also extends into our creative work.”

Noticing my subtly sweet smile in response, Friday playfully comments, “Oh I can see, you’re a lover.” It’s then that she tells me that for the first time, she found herself writing love songs. Not familiar sagas of heartbreak or avoidance, but expressions of joy and tenderness. On “Alberta”, for example, she writes directly to her partner with an intimacy that feels both specific and universally understood. “My life is filled with such sweetness now, and I wanted to reflect that,” she says with a firm self-assurance.

Other songs on the album rely on that sense of inner security. “Bet On Me”, which Friday names as “the message of the album," was born the night she decided to self-manage, written in tears at her computer. “What do you do when you don’t know if you’re going to fly or fall? You have to bet on yourself. You have to believe in yourself. It’s very emotional, very honest.” Even the dancefloor-ready tracks carry that emotional undercurrent. “I love the idea of being melancholic in the club,” she says.

The club remains a constant touchstone for Friday, a fruitful source of inspiration, even if her relationship with it has shifted. “That time in my life was formative. I’ll always reference it, even though I rarely go out these days. I have to keep my distance, but I respect the club, and I think culture owes so much to those spaces.” Paying homage to a space that grew her musical repertoire, Friday has even returned to her origins as a DJ, tentatively, bridging her past and present. “Who knows, maybe I’ll go back. I don’t know. But I feel like it’s always going to be in my life in some way, and I’m happy to make songs for people to enjoy in the club.”

Throughout our conversation, she returns to the idea of a “starrr” as self-actualisation rather than fame. “I believe everybody is a star. Becoming a star is about becoming yourself, actualising your potential, living your life awake. It’s a choice you have to make over and over again. I want everybody to be able to actualise that potential. I’m rooting for everyone in that way, because it’s what we’re all here to do. I think that’s what gives us meaning in this life — to truly become yourself.

For Friday, The Starrr of the Queen of Life is a facet in her process of self-actualisation. But it’s also an open invitation for listeners to see themselves reflected in its honesty and feel understood. “I’ve sometimes called this record a mirror, I really want people to see themselves in it. I want people to hear the album and think, ‘She gets it. She knows what it’s like to be alive, to be human.’ I’m a human, you’re a human, and we’re in this together.”

Now, with the record complete, Friday sits at what she calls her “fig tree moment.” Her love for literary allegories shines once more as she refers to a Sylvia Plath image of branches laden with potential futures, each waiting to be chosen. The uncertainty doesn’t seem to rattle her; if anything, it feels like part of the point. “What’s next? What do I choose? Everything’s trickling down and it’s like, what do I want? I’m excited for what comes next, because I honestly don’t know.”

If her journey is any indication, one thing that feels certain is that no matter what, Debbie Friday will always come out on top — as long as she keeps betting on herself.