In the ten years since the release of her debt EP Cathedral, singer-songwriter Joy Oladokun has built a career of beautiful, boundary-crossing music with roots in folk, rock, R&B, and pop.
On Tuesday, November 18th, she will perform at St. Cecilia Music Center.
The daughter of Nigerian immigrants, she found commonality through music. “It’s how my dad and I communicate,” she said. When she came out, he quoted Dolly Parton’s song “Family”: “some of them are preachers, some of them are gay.”
Her father was accepting; Nashville, where she made her name, was sometimes less so. She’s quick to point out that she’s met incredibly kind, creative, accepting, and brilliant people in the scene. “But there are days when I think things would be easier if I weren’t me.”
She writes for a broad audience, avoiding the narrowly autobiographical approach favored by some big stars. There’s a place for that, she says, but she prefers to focus on universal themes, resulting in lyrics that are simple but relatable, and, when sung by her, clearly sincere. When, on “Proof of Life,” she sings, “Can anybody say a prayer, can anybody light a candle for somebody like me,” she’s singing something universal.
Still, representation matters. Tracy Chapman was an important early influence: here was a queer Black woman making folk music. It felt at times like, for the first time, Oladokun was seeing herself. “Without Tracy Chapman,” she said, “none of this would have happened.” But Chapman was just one in a broad array of influences. She’s covered Nirvana songs and “War Pigs” live. Everything from 60s girl groups to Prince to Genesis—the last a shared passion with her father—went into the mix.
She’s released five albums; recorded with Chris Stapleton; opened for Hozier; performed a Tiny Desk concert. On October 20th, she posted a video featuring her hearing, from Sheryl Crow, that she was to make her Grand Ole Opry debut in December—and that Crow would be in the audience. Her songs have played on This Is Us and Grey’s Anatomy. She’s found therapy in music (as she has in therapy proper, something her label pays for).
She sells t-shirts that say “Your Dad’s Favorite Artist” and hats that say “Sensitive Stoner.” She’s been profiled on NPR, in Rolling Stone, and in The New York Times. She’s gotten married. Her songs have been played at the weddings of strangers. Fans have written to tell her how much her music’s meant to them.
“Only connect,” E.M. Forster said. It could serve as Oladokun’s motto. For her, music’s all about connection and communication. It could pay better—laughing, she said she might need a second job. But its compensations are real.
Asked whether her vision for her music have changed in the decade since her first EP was released, she said no, it’s remained the same. Whether she’s in the studio, trying for a sound that combines Nancy Sinatra and Dijon, or “playing the worst slot at a Black music festival,” the goal’s been the same: to connect. And she does.
Joy Oladokun
St. Cecilia Music Center
Nov. 18, 7:30 p.m.
scmcgr.org
