“I Didn’t Know If I’d Make It to 20”: Charlie Huncho on Survival, Art, and What It Really Takes to Write.

By Ayeshah ‘Ice’ Somani

When Charlie Huncho steps on stage, something takes over. “It’s like an exorcism,” she says. “I blank out, and when I come off, I’m like, ‘I don’t even know what happened up there.’” Offstage, she’s calm and careful with her words. Onstage, she’s a riot of motion, sound, and sweat, a contrast that doesn’t feel performative, just complete.

That duality runs deep in everything Charlie does. Trained in opera and choir, she came up in the kind of environments that reward discipline, technique, and polish, the kind where being “off-book” isn’t just frowned upon, it’s forbidden. “I loved the vocal training,” she says, “but I hated having to be proper all the time. You just want to scream after a while.”

Charlie builds are like a world around her: with color, texture, clay sculptures, mini-me figurines in Doc Martens, and a growing wardrobe of androgynous suits and punk-leaning show outfits. At shows, she wants the people in the room to feel connected through a shared look and energy. Her creative practice doesn’t stop at music. Everything she does ties back to how she builds meaning.

A Three-Year Album and a Studio Full of Layers

Her debut album started with a few sessions. The plan was to track a couple singles. But the ideas kept coming. She worked closely with producer Danny Lopez, a Juno nominated artist and member of Harm & Ease. The process stretched into a three-year buildout, with songs evolving across dozens of sessions.

Charlie’s debut didn’t start as an album but the moment they got into the room, something shifted. She couldn’t stop writing. “I kept messaging Danny, like, ‘Can we go back in?’ I always had more ideas.” She doesn’t write from a hook or a verse. She writes from feeling. From phrases that pop into her head. From scenes that live between real life and memory. She brings in the bones of an idea, then sits on the couch while Danny plays guitar until something clicks.

“I need like a million takes,” she laughs. “I’ll do one line over and over until it feels right. I’ll stack harmonies forever. I just want it to feel full.” One track, California Sober, layers over 15 vocal lines in the chorus. She describes her direction like someone scoring a film. “I want [fans] to…create a visual like a world in your head when you hear the music” 

The writing came from instinct. The themes came from somewhere harder. “There were times I didn’t know if I’d make it to 20,” Charlie says. She says it plainly, like a fact. Like it’s just part of her math.

She grew up with severe OCD. At eight years old, she couldn’t leave the house without rituals. Touching things. Even numbers. Repeating steps. That experience never really left her. In her teens, it folded into addiction, depression, and a stretch where school wasn’t possible. There wasn’t a clear exit. There wasn’t a plan to become an artist. There was just a feeling that she didn’t want to stay where she was.

She moved to Toronto alone. Enrolled in music production. Sat through classes. Went to shows. Found friends in studios and green rooms and bars that stayed open late. And she showed up for herself.

‘Skeletons’ nearly broke her open

The last song written for her debut, Skeletons, came together slowly. It’s more exposed than the rest. No mask. No wink. No clever phrasing to soften it. Just the line:

“I’m making friends with the skeletons in my closet / I’m making rent from the monsters under my bed.”

She cried in the booth while recording it and explained that it felt like saying goodbye to something. Not in a sad way. In a final way. 

The album is full of defiance, club tracks, chaotic guitar lines, tongue-in-cheek references to old habits, but Skeletons pulls the thread all the way through. It holds the weight of everything that came before it and gives it form. That track helped her move forward. It didn’t resolve everything, but it cleared the space.

Charlie isn’t in a rest period. She’s already writing again. Already planning live sets, thinking about transitions and intros, treating her tiny club sets like they’re stadium shows. “I don’t have a backup plan,” she says. “this is so wholeheartedly me and I poured my heart and soul into that album.” 

Charlie doesn’t want her past to be her brand. She doesn’t want to be a symbol. She wants to make good music. She wants to keep performing and to make things that feel real. “There were times I didn’t know if I’d make it to 20,” she says again. “So every single song I put out is a celebration of the fact that I made it this far” 

THANKS FOR THE INSOMNIA is out now on all platforms. If you’re in Toronto, catch Charlie live this January, details on her Instagram. Some stories are better shown in person.

All photos by Daniel Dorta, creative direction by Charlie Huncho

INSOMNIA MUSIC VIDEO- Directed by King Dawit

CREDITS:
Producer: Danny Lopez (El Camino Recordings)
John Goodblood
Photographer (ALL PHOTOS) : Daniel Dorta
In Live Performance Photos:
Drums- Matt Pine
Guitar- John Goodblood
Bass Guitar- Danny Lopez