Cherry Marsan and the Art of Confession: Where Vulnerability Becomes Power

By Young N’ Loud Magazine

A Child Listening at the Door of Destiny

Some artists choose music. Others are quietly chosen by it long before they understand what that means. Cherry Marsan belongs to the second lineage. Her story does not begin with ambition or strategy, but with curiosity. At five years old, walking past a neighborhood children’s choir in Havana, she stopped every day to listen. The piano, the voices, the sense of something unfolding just beyond reach pulled her in with a gravity she could not ignore. Eventually, curiosity turned into insistence, and insistence into destiny. She begged her mother to let her audition. When she was accepted, music stopped being a distant sound and became a lived language.

From those first rehearsals, Cherry entered a rigorous musical path. She trained in piano and voice under the guidance of choir directors before earning her place at the Paulita Concepción Elementary Music Conservatory. Classical education shaped her discipline, her ear, and her respect for structure. Yet even in those early years, something more personal was already forming beneath the technique. Music was not only something to perform correctly. It was something to feel deeply.

Havana as a Living Instrument

To understand Cherry Marsan’s artistic identity, one must understand Havana. It is a city where music is not reserved for stages or concert halls. It spills into streets, echoes from balconies, and pulses through everyday life. On any given corner, speakers pour out melodies. Rumba lives in sidewalks and courtyards. Jazz thrives through constant reinvention, blending imported influences with local rhythms that refuse to stay still.

Growing up in this environment shaped Cherry’s mindset as much as her sound. While classical music dominated her formal education, the city offered contrast, friction, and freedom. Havana taught her that music can be academic and raw, sacred and profane, precise and impulsive at the same time. That tension now lives inside her work. Her compositions carry classical sensibility, Cuban rhythmic memory, and an openness to experimentation that reflects the city itself.

The First Time the Fear Did Not Win

Every artist remembers the moment when performance stops being theoretical and becomes real. For Cherry, that moment arrived early. One of her first public piano performances took place during a gathering where parents played alongside their children. Her mother, unfamiliar with the instrument, sat beside her, hands shaking as she tried to calm her daughter’s nerves. The scene was imperfect, intimate, and unforgettable. Music was no longer about mastery. It was about shared vulnerability.

Years later, at twelve, Cherry stepped onstage alone as a singer for the first time. She felt small, exposed, and overwhelmed by the presence of an audience. Then a realization cut through the fear. These people came to listen. Fear was not the performance they deserved. In that moment, she chose love for music over fear of judgment. That decision became a personal mantra she still carries.

Since then, the connection with listeners has only deepened. When audiences sing along or break into tears stirred by her lyrics, Cherry understands she is walking the right path. Those reactions are not validation of ego. They are confirmation of shared humanity.

A Name That Holds Irony and Intention

Cherry Marsan is not a stage name designed by committee. It is personal, layered, and quietly ironic. Marsan comes from her family name. Cherry emerged from childhood affection. Friends once called her “Cerecita,” inspired by her love for Cherry Jam from Strawberry Shortcake and an enduring obsession with the idea of cherries. Years later, when she dyed her hair red, the name seemed to claim its place fully. Ironically, she has never eaten a cherry.

The symbolism matters. Cherries often represent youth, femininity, and innocence. Cherry Marsan embraces those associations while subtly questioning them. Her music uses softness to deliver sharp truths. Innocence becomes a lens, not a limitation. Femininity becomes strength, not decoration.

Honesty as a Sound

Ask Cherry Marsan to define her music without genres, and she does not hesitate. The words she chooses are honest and vulnerable. Those qualities are not marketing language. They are artistic principles.

Her songs aim to make listeners feel seen. Safety, empathy, and recognition sit at the core of her work. Cherry does not write to impress. She writes to connect. She understands that healing often begins with recognition, with the simple knowledge that someone else has felt this too.

From Diaries to Devotionals

Cherry’s creative process begins with listening. She listens to people, their stories, their contradictions, and their quiet confessions. She listens to herself through journals, poems, and fragmented thoughts written in moments of emotional intensity. Later, those words find melody. Pain becomes structure. Fear becomes harmony.

This process feels therapeutic, but it is not self indulgent. Cherry transforms personal experience into shared space. Her music becomes a mirror rather than a diary entry. Each song invites others to place their own reflections inside it.

Literature, Darkness, and Sonic Freedom

Music is not Cherry Marsan’s only influence. Literature plays an equally vital role. Authors like Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Osamu Dazai, Sylvia Plath, Franz Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe, and Bram Stoker inform her thematic depth. Their exploration of guilt, identity, isolation, and moral tension echoes through her lyrics.

Recently, she translated that influence directly into sound with a song inspired by Crime and Punishment. This literary approach aligns seamlessly with her musical influences. Jazz and rock coexist in her listening habits. Artists like Gabriels, Amy Winehouse, and Lana Del Rey share space with bands such as Marilyn Manson, Alice Cooper, and My Chemical Romance. From soul to shock, Cherry absorbs it all.

Her signature emerges from this blend. Raw topics. Poetic language. Experimental sound choices. Her music does not aim for comfort. It aims for truth.

Walking the Tightrope of a First EP

Every career contains a defining leap. For Cherry Marsan, that leap came with the creation of her debut EP. Writing those songs felt like balancing on a tightrope stretched over fear, guilt, and exposure. Each track demanded emotional honesty without guarantees of reception.

That discomfort became transformative. Through the process, she learned that fear does not need to disappear to lose its power. It can become fuel. Her mother’s advice echoes through her journey. Do it even if you are scared. Regret weighs less than silence.

From that point forward, Cherry embraced evolution. Her early innocence matured into intentional expression. Classical training now supports bold experimentation. Vulnerability no longer feels accidental. It feels chosen.

When the Studio Breaks You Open

Some moments stay etched in the body. During a recent recording session, Cherry broke down in tears while singing. The song pulled memories to the surface with a force she could not resist. That experience reaffirmed her belief that authenticity requires courage. Music that matters often hurts before it heals.

Misinterpretation follows courage. Some listeners have labeled her work as provocative, narcissistic, or even associated it with satanic imagery. Cherry receives these reactions with curiosity rather than defensiveness. Her music critiques society and reflects personal perspective. It does not claim moral superiority. Every interpretation becomes part of the conversation, and sometimes, part of the humor.

Grounded by Humanity, Fueled by Ritual

Offstage, Cherry remains grounded by a simple truth. She is the center of her own world, not the center of the world. That awareness keeps her curious and humble.

Before performances, she takes five minutes alone. Silence, reflection, and coffee form her pre show ritual. Coffee, by her own admission, is her greatest ally. These moments of stillness prepare her to step into emotional intensity without losing balance.

If her music had a physical form, it would feel like red velvet satin. Smooth, rich, and slightly dangerous. Its flavor would be wine. Complex, emotional, and lingering.

A Voice for Women, A Mirror for Many

Beyond sound, Cherry Marsan wants her listeners to leave with something lasting. She wants them to feel less alone. Her lyrics confront guilt, fear, shame, and the false narratives imposed by society. She challenges the idea that worth depends on perfection or approval.

Women’s experiences sit at the heart of her songwriting. Love, heartbreak, perception, value, and vulnerability appear not as clichés, but as lived realities. Her art carries social awareness without preaching. She does not aim to change the world. She aims to change someone’s view of themselves. For Cherry, that is enough.

Sistine Chapel and the Next Confession

Cherry is currently working on her first official EP, Sistine Chapel. The project will feature seven songs, each written like a confession. Themes move through society, literature, religion, and womanhood, framed by Cuban rhythmic elements, contemporary textures, and orchestral layers. Symphonic ambition meets personal revelation.

Looking forward, she dreams of creating a full jazz album rooted in swing, blues, and soul. Collaborations with artists like Gabriels or Florence and the Machine feel aligned with her artistic future.

Success, in her eyes, has little to do with numbers. It lives in authenticity, connection, and growth. It exists when the music feels true, whether it reaches millions or a few who truly understand.

What keeps her Young N’ Loud is simple and fierce. An immense hunger to devour the world and reach the right people at the right moment.

Cherry Marsan does not ask for attention. She earns it through honesty. Her voice is not a shield. It is a weapon, wielded with vulnerability, intelligence, and purpose.