Tia Wood grew up wondering why things had to be so complicated. Not because the Indigenous singer came of age on Canada’s Saddle Lake Cree Nation, which like so many tribal communities across North America, experiences ongoing inequities due to historic injustices (though she’s well-aware of that, too). Rather, it was because she was obsessed with aughts pop-punk star Avril Lavigne. When she was belting out hits like “Complicated” and “My Happy Ending” in her childhood bedroom, Wood never imagined she’d be part of the 2020s pop cultural Native awakening.
“Indigenous people are real people in the real world,” says the 26-year-old Plains Cree/Salish R&B singer, who became one of the first Native women to sign to Sony Music last year. “People often misunderstand the way I grew up, because there’s this tendency to think that Indigenous people are just these spiritual, mystical beings. I’m a young adult going through young adult things, just like anyone else.”
Lavigne wasn’t Wood’s only early influence. She also listened to Amy Winehouse, Lauryn Hill, and country legends like Dolly Parton, Buck Owens, and Hank Williams. Growing up in a musical family, she toured on the powwow circuit as part of a dance troupe alongside her parents and five older siblings. (Her father was a founding member of the Grammy–nominated group Northern Cree, her mother was in the all-women drum group Fraser Valley, and her sister Fawn is an award–winning musician.)
“As soon as we were old enough to sing and grasp a drumstick, my parents taught us traditional music,” Wood recalls. “Still, music never really seemed like a possible career choice. It just felt so out of reach, because I didn’t grow up seeing a lot of Indigenous pop or R&B singers in mainstream media.”
It was a viral TikTok moment that convinced her otherwise. She had been playing around with layering Indigenous-style vocals over contemporary beats and casually posted a video showcasing that unique sound. Before long, the post had amassed millions of views and likes. (Today, her TikTok following has grown to 2.2 million, and her fan base includes musicians like SZA and Kacey Musgraves.)
“That was a turning point,” she says. “It made me realize there is a space for this and that people do want to hear this kind of music. That’s where it all started.”
Soon, interest and inquiries from the music industry began pouring in. She was invited out to Nashville and Los Angeles to spend time in the recording studio—a major opportunity that induced both excitement and some serious anxiety.”
“I knew I didn’t want to do traditional music, because I felt like my family already had that covered,” says Wood. “But to make this kind of music was even scarier, because I’d never written songs like this before. I didn’t know what to expect, but it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”
The songs started to flow out of her, fittingly focused on the concept of leaving home. One of those tracks was “Dirt Roads,” which ended up being her first single from her debut EP that came out earlier this fall, Pretty Red Bird. Wood extended that Los Angeles stay, participating in the time-honored artist tradition of renting a room downtown, living out of her suitcase, and subsisting on ramen noodles.
“It was such a beautiful, crazy experience to take that leap, but it also came with a lot of culture shock and loneliness,” she remembers. “I’d start crying when I would hear the sirens of downtown L.A., and it made me realize how much I missed the quiet and the slow pace of the rez, which I took for granted when I lived there. I would call my mom all the time when I was feeling homesick, and even though she was a little shocked, too, she and my family were my biggest supporters.”
Wood’s music feels at once hyper-personal and universal. On “Dirt Roads,” she sings about the struggle of staying true to her Indigenous roots in a Western world, while “Sky High” describes overcoming obstacles in the pursuit of lofty goals. That vulnerability, though, sometimes leaves Wood feeling overexposed.
“I’m a very shy person by nature, so it’s an ongoing struggle to pour my heart out,” she says. “Early on, I had trouble staying true to who I am. I started feeling like I should write about what I thought people would want. My music comes from an Indigenous perspective, which isn’t something most people experience, and I felt like no one was going to relate to my story.”
Wood also uses her platform to give voice to issues affecting Native communities, such as the oppressive residential school era and the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women crisis—topics that hit close to home.
“My parents are both residential school survivors, and I wouldn’t be where I am without them,” she says. “Success for me is walking into spaces and being unapologetically myself and unapologetically proud of where I come from. It’s claiming space not only for my parents but for our youth and all Indigenous people because, at one point, we weren’t allowed to practice our ways. It’s staying true to myself and showing people that our stories matter.”
Staying true to herself also means not letting people box her in based on outdated myths and misconceptions. For instance, like anyone who came up during the aughts, she still turns on those favorite Avril Lavigne tunes if she’s having a bad day. Wood got to the pop-punk icon at the Juno Awards in 2022 (the same year her sister Fawn snagged her award), and she fangirled hard.
“When I found out I was going to introduce Avril, I literally screamed because I love her so much,” she says. “It was such a full-circle moment because she was my first-ever concert. My parents pulled together money for all of my siblings to go, and we sat in the nosebleed seats. Introducing her was probably one of the top five experiences of my life.”
Surreal moments like that have become the norm for Wood, who splits her time now between Los Angeles and her native Alberta (though she’s often on the road touring). She’s recording her next EP, which is set to come out next year. And much like her childhood idol Lavigne, she’s serving as a voice for a generation—though that’s tough for someone as humble as Wood to admit.
“I hope when people listen to my music that they can hear themselves in it,” she says.” I hope they realize that their stories are important and that no matter where they come from or what cards they were dealt, they’re just as capable of doing anything as anyone else.”
