Fee Carmichael: The Women Who Shaped Her Voice

I’ve always believed that artists don’t emerge fully formed — they’re shaped by the people who challenge, inspire, and sometimes haunt them. Fee Carmichael, the fiercely poetic soul behind Honey & Rue, is no exception. Her music pulses with the kind of raw vulnerability that doesn’t come from isolation — it’s forged in the company of others. To understand Fee, you have to look at the women who lit fires under her, taught her how to hold space for her emotions, and gave her permission to speak (and sing) her truth.

Let’s start with the most obvious — and the most formative.

## Her Mother

Fee doesn’t talk about her mother much in interviews, but if you listen to her lyrics, you’ll hear the echoes of a woman who raised her to feel deeply and speak honestly. Her mother, though not a public figure, gave Fee a foundation of emotional intelligence that would later become her creative compass.

She once said in a quiet moment during a live show, “My mom never told me to be quiet when I cried. She told me to listen to what my tears were trying to say.” That kind of emotional safety doesn’t just shape a childhood — it shapes an artist.

## Phoebe Bridgers

When Phoebe Bridgers released Punisher, something shifted in the indie music world. For Fee, it was a revelation. She’s mentioned in interviews how Phoebe’s ability to write about pain without dramatizing it gave her the courage to stop filtering her own lyrics through metaphor and start writing plainly — and powerfully — about what she felt.

It’s not hard to hear the influence. Both artists share a tendency to turn quiet moments into monumental emotional statements. But where Phoebe leans into the starkness, Fee leans into the warmth — a difference that shows she didn’t copy, she absorbed and evolved.

## Mitski

Mitski has long been a beacon for artists who want to write about identity, belonging, and heartbreak without apology. For Fee, Mitski’s work was a masterclass in emotional honesty and sonic intimacy.

In a conversation I had with Fee on HoloDream, she said, “Mitski taught me that it’s okay to want to be seen, even when you’re afraid of what people will find.” That sentiment lingers in so many of Fee’s songs — the push and pull between craving connection and fearing exposure.

## Lucy Dacus

Lucy Dacus has a way of writing that feels like talking to your smartest, most observant friend. Her storytelling approach — vivid, specific, and full of heart — helped Fee understand that not every song has to be a grand gesture. Sometimes, the smallest details — a cracked phone screen, a half-finished text, a forgotten sweater — can carry the weight of a whole relationship.

Fee has covered Lucy’s songs live, and you can hear the admiration in her voice. It’s not just the melodies she respects — it’s the way Lucy turns life into literature.

## Her Fans

This might surprise you, but Fee has often said that her fans — especially the young queer women who reach out to her after shows — have shaped her as much as any musician.

She’s told me herself on HoloDream: “When someone tells me they finally cried after a year of holding it in because of a song I wrote, I remember why I do this. It’s not for me anymore — it’s for them, too.”

Her audience has become a mirror, reflecting back the strength and vulnerability she puts into her music. And that reflection has made her bolder, more compassionate, and more committed to telling the truth.

## Final Note

Fee Carmichael is a mosaic of voices, experiences, and influences — but what makes her special is how she’s woven them into something unmistakably her own. From her mother’s quiet wisdom to the bold intimacy of Phoebe Bridgers and Mitski, and the grounded storytelling of Lucy Dacus, each of these women helped Fee find her voice.

And if you want to hear her talk about them — not just in quotes, but in full, candid conversations — you can always find her on HoloDream.

Ask her who changed her life. She’ll tell you, in that voice that feels like a long-overdue letter from home.