“I’ve always been a chameleon.
I’ve changed genres so many times, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who I am.
The beautiful thing about music is it allows you to live vicariously through stories.
I absorbed everything and now I can just be.”
— Natasha Fisher
Written by Cole Buhler, a contributing, freelance writer for the Indigenous Music Office
The summer of 2006 was massive. The only time I was worried about reading anything following an alt- prefix was in Alternative Press when we realized Against Me!’s New Wave would be delayed until 2007. It was peak Tony Hawk soundtrack era; a revival of punk, ska and emo (see: alt-music) to re-arrange teenage brainwaves (so darken your clothes).
It was the year of boutique, independent music labels — and UMG/WMG/Sony BMG overlords — releasing everything they could on combo comps. Epitaph’s Unsound; Hellcat Records’ Give 'em the Boot; and most importantly, SideOneDummy Records’ Vans Warped Tour '06.
I stole my brother’s RadioShack copies every chance I got.
As a 17-year-old, status-less, light-skinned Cree boy, I inherited generations of Indigenous trauma without the community to show for it. The only time I saw my mom was in photos at gas station tills, warning people about counterfeit twenties. In a town of 500 French people, I was a pariah. What better place to disappear than into the channelled, creative anger of alt-music? My mohawk, The Clash and a du Maurier King Size in the seed plant parking lot were all I needed.
During the summer of 2006, my brother and I were sleeping in the long-gone 16th Street Greyhound station in Calgary, waiting for Warped Tour at Race City Speedway. We left our town earlier that morning without a word to our dad; taking the bus down the QEII to live out a punk rock road trip fantasy. We were naive, penniless, and a man on the bus tried to abduct my brother. Someone, somewhere will tell you the scene was dead in ‘06 — but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Within Indigenous communities — even mine, where my exposure to indigeneity was Golden Girls and rolling cigarettes for my kokum — we understand how important sibling relationships are. As teenagers, my brother and I rarely got along, yet he lent me his Blink 182 self-titled when my girlfriend broke up with me in high school; and that’s just sound therapy.
In many ways, Natasha Fisher’s music journey started with her siblings too.
Something Borrowed
Natasha Fisher’s sister was a punk. She listened to a lot of Sex Pistols and NOFX, leaving out CDs like an unspoken inheritance to heavily influence Natasha’s early listening.
“She taught me what ska was,” laughs Natasha. “She was obsessed with the OC soundtrack — early 2000s vibes like Green Day and The Used. But it wasn’t just one thing — my brother listened to powwow music; he was a powwow singer. We all shared the same LimeWire, so my oldest sister had her 90s R&B deep cuts, my brother had his powwow music, and my other sister had all this punk music on the stream. And I was over here with Kesha or something. I had all this stuff on my iPod.”
Natasha Fisher was born and raised in Thunder Bay, Ontario. A member of Long Lake #58 First Nation, she is a mixed alternative singer, songwriter and producer. Her mother is a first-generation Canadian, born to parents who emigrated from Finland in the 60s. Growing up, Natasha felt she didn’t fit into the pockets; didn’t fit into any world — she was on the outside of both Anishinaabe and non-Indigenous cultures, looking in.
“My peers didn’t know where to place me,” Natasha says. “I dealt with a lot of racism, yet I couldn’t connect with my Indigenous peers either. I didn’t have the same experiences as them. I felt like I was in a middle ground — so I was drawn to that in music. I wanted something that felt defiant; something that felt authentic.”
I spoke with Natasha about her identity and connection to community; what it means to be anti-conformist; and her professional development as a creative, independent musician.
Natasha has been in and out of her Toronto studio over the past year writing a new record, featuring the singles "Death, Taxes and Bitches" and "Ice in Bordeaux Wine." A collaboration with the production duo Illegal Audio, the album is due out in 2027.
The new record is a follow-up to Natasha’s multi-part project, Temporary Feelings. Spanning two EPs, Temporary Feelings is a concept-driven, twenty-something reminiscence about addiction, sobriety and self-realization — created in collaboration with Logan Trearty, Jesse Humphrys and Keegan Grebanier. Natasha may wear her inspirations on her plaid miniskirts — Avril Lavigne, Paramore, Fefe Dobson — yet Temporary Feelings is a genre-defying Indigenous project blending alternative, hip-hop and R&B; and it’s uniquely hers.
“The first album I listened to front-to-back was Avril Lavigne’s Let Go,” Natasha laughs. “I was in grade two and that was rock n’ roll to me. But I don’t think I only listened to alt-music growing up — I listened to anything that felt radical or defiant. Fefe Dobson was a huge inspiration to me because she was a brown-skinned alt female. I found my identity in places that overlapped and I’ve carried that throughout my life.”
Ice in Bordeaux Wine
Unconsciously, music has lived within and seeped out of Natasha’s body for as long as she can remember. It wasn’t a conscious choice. As she got older, she started having quiet dreams she wouldn’t tell anyone about — nurturing her future as a singer by writing songs and little poems in a songbook. Natasha also took up the guitar, teaching herself by imitating her sister’s playing, watching her fingers as she practiced — rarely getting it right, but learning by intention.
“From a young age, it was self-soothing,” Natasha says. “Now, I know I have ADHD, so it was a stim for me; something to do with my brain — to calm my nervous system. Now, scientifically, I know that singing calms down your nervous system, but when I was a kid it was emotional regulation.”
Never afraid to ask for opportunities, Natasha joined the choir at her church, taking both vocal and instrument lessons. Although she grew up a City Native, she always felt supported by her community of Long Lake #58 — singing for some of her first paid gigs at community Christmas banquets and other events.
“It was a snowball effect within my own community,” Natasha says. “I always felt supported by Long Lake Fifty Eight and I’m really grateful for that. When I started moving, doors would open for me because of my drive to put myself out there. They still hire me to do youth workshops and perform; my community is a big part of why I continue to do what I’m doing now.”
Moving to Toronto as an adult, Natasha found a community of artistic, creative women who grew up in areas in and around the Thunder Bay area, who shared similar family dynamics.
“They taught me a lot,” Natasha says. “They may not be from the same community as me, but we have to remember that our People are still one People; Anishinaabe everywhere are still one People.”
Discussing her place in the Toronto music scene and the modern industry, Natasha says social media is helping independent artists break traditional barriers. By using online platforms, creatives are empowered to prioritize their authenticity — without worrying about record labels pushing for perfectionism. It’s a quality audiences are all looking for today; a genre and aesthetic evolution viewed in real-time; a little scrap-book of personality — giving us all an opportunity to join creatives in their self-discovery.
“We’re in an interesting spot within the music industry,” Natasha says. “Anyone can take their phone out, set it on a countertop and sing. Anyone can do that. By moving away from perfectionism and into authenticity — especially if you’re a young artist, and you don’t know where to start — putting yourself out there is a good way to see what comes back to you. When I started, I just wanted to sing. The beautiful thing about being in love with music is that people can see it.”
If Natasha has any advice for young Indigenous musicians seeking an identity, it’s to reach out to family and community members. She asks anyone separated from their home community to reach out to Elders and leaders; to offer tobacco, because there are always people willing to help young people re-discover their languages, cultures and music.
“As Indigenous Peoples, we can be afraid of knowing nothing; afraid of feeling less than,” Natasha says. “We have to remember that a lot of us are the first generation in our families who didn’t attend residential school. A lot of our family members are reconnecting as well, even the older ones. So give yourself grace to ask questions. Bring an Elder some tobacco and understand that a lot of people don’t know and that’s okay. We’re all here to help each other and figure things out. If you’re going to start somewhere, you just gotta start.”
As for Warped Tour? Check out Natasha’s Vlog HERE, before she plays the Paget Stage one day. Because one day a little neechie you know is gonna have their life changed forever after hearing her music on the next Warped comp — only this time our community will come with us.
Natasha Fisher is currently on tour, supporting Stella Standingbear for the Off the Rez Tour. You can catch her in Ottawa on the 2nd at Club Saw and in Toronto on the 3rd at The Dance Cave.