The JUNO Awards have a habit of crowning the "next big thing" just as the ink is drying on the record deal, but with Jessia, the industry finally caught up to the algorithm. Winning the 2022 Breakout Artist of the Year wasn't just a nod to her chart-topping metrics; it was a formal induction for a BC songwriter who bypassed the traditional gatekeepers by turning a bathroom-mirror internal monologue into a global anthem.
Sitting across from her, you don’t see the polished, untouchable veneer of a typical pop starlet. There is a grit there. Before the trophies and the red carpets, Jessia was just another artist grinding in the digital dirt, specifically with the release of her debut EP *How Are You?* and the viral juggernaut "I’m Not Pretty." That track didn't just move units; it caught the ear of OneRepublic’s Ryan Tedder and Canadian producer Elijah Woods, creating a trifecta of talent that most artists spend a decade trying to manufacture.
The last time we spoke, the "I’m Not Pretty" video was a fresh curiosity and the EP was a looming promise. Fast forward 12 months, and she is standing at the summit of the Canadian music scene. I started by acknowledging the sheer velocity of her ascent.
"Thank you so, so much," she says, leaning into the gratitude with a sincerity that feels rare in an industry built on irony.
But what does a JUNO nomination actually feel like when you’re the one in the dress? For Jessia, it isn't about the hardware or the industry networking; it’s a validation of the child who spent years practicing her acceptance speech in front of a bedroom mirror.
"Oh, my goodness. The little girl inside of me is just screaming. She’s so, so excited. It’s like a moment of: 'Oh my goodness, we did it.' As an artist, it’s really, really nice to just have that recognition and know that people like what I’m doing, hopefully," Jessia says.
There is a specific kind of Canadian nostalgia attached to the JUNOS. For those of us who grew up in the suburbs, the broadcast was our only window into a world that felt a thousand miles away from the local hockey rink. Jessia shares that DNA. She isn't an outsider looking in; she is a fan who finally got invited backstage.
"I’ve grown up just watching the Junos, and just seeing all of the up-and-coming artists. I think that is one of my favorite things to see - all of the new talent that people have been discovering and seeing what they do the next year," she says.
And yet, the engine behind this whole machine is still "I’m Not Pretty." The song has become a living organism. In a pop market saturated with filtered perfection and high-gloss artifice, Jessia’s blunt assessment of her own insecurities acted as a homing beacon for a disillusioned generation. But songs change as their creators grow. I asked if the meaning has shifted now that she is no longer the underdog.
"It’s always evolving. I love that people are still sharing their stories and still discovering it. It’s really cool when you get a message like, 'Oh, my goodness, I just saw this song,' and you’re like, 'Hello, welcome to the family.' I still absolutely love it and I need to listen to it more. It definitely gets me through some days where I don’t really feel too great about myself. It’s an ever-growing family and ever-growing movement of people just being able to smile and accept themselves, no matter what they look like that day," she says.
The success of the track exposes a massive void in the current pop climate. We are drowning in "bops" that mean nothing. Jessia’s willingness to look in the mirror and hate what she sees—and then sing about it—is the ultimate act of rebellion in a TikTok-driven economy.
"You don’t usually hear people talk about these things in pop music. Usually, Pop dancing and everybody being pretty and blah, blah, blah. I feel like talking about not feeling your best, the darker sides and some of the ugly thoughts that you have in your mind. It’s something new and refreshing and I think it’s something that we need to talk about more. I’m really happy that this is where the music industry is going. There’s a lot more real and a lot more authenticity in the music coming out now," she says.
The turning point for the track, and subsequently her career, came when Ryan Tedder entered the chat. Literally. Tedder is the architect behind some of the biggest hooks of the last 20 years, and his involvement is the ultimate seal of approval.
"He DM’d me on Instagram. That was pretty wild. I had to check it 14 different times to make sure it was actually him. He is one of the most amazing people ever, not only as a songwriter, but as a human being. The advice that he’s given me on how to navigate this industry, how to navigate me as an artist, and the way that he sees me, and the things that he sees for my career, is really, really amazing and super inspiring. Every time I walk away from him, I just I’m feeling like I need to let go and do a million things - just try even harder," she says.
Working with Tedder isn't just about getting a hit; it’s about learning the geometry of a song. He is a master of the "banger pop song," but he also understands the need for artistic fluidity. Jessia seems to have absorbed his philosophy by osmosis.
"We’ve had a couple of sessions. I just glazed over that didn’t I? His melodies and just how in tune he is with where songwriting is going is astonishing. He tries to navigate writing by breaking down all the boundaries and allowing yourself to just flow and be artistic. But, he’s also very, very in tune with how to write a banger pop song. Look at his catalogue. It’s amazing," she says.
There is a delicious irony in her current status. While Tedder was mentoring contestants on *American Idol*, Jessia was forging her own path after being chewed up and spat out by the reality TV machine. She is the one who got away, proving that the traditional talent show circuit is often blind to the very talent it claims to seek.
He DM’d me on Instagram. That was pretty wild. I had to check it 14 different times to make sure it was actually him.
"I did. I did Canada’s Got Talent and I didn’t make it through the first round. I wasn’t able to do Canadian Idol because it got canceled before I was able to do it. I’m very, very glad that my career took me this way, to be able to just to showcase my songwriting. I would have been open to it. I might go on a TV show, I’m still young. The world still doing its thing," she says.
The pivot to TikTok wasn't a choice; it was a survival tactic. During the pandemic, the stage was replaced by a screen, and Jessia used that medium to build a global community without ever leaving her house.
"I saw that we weren’t in person anymore and our opportunities as artists in the pandemic were very, very limited. We also weren’t able to play live shows and this was the only way to be able to be seen. It’s a little bit nerve wracking making videos and editing yourself, but I find that it’s such an amazing way to reach audiences everywhere. I’ve got fans from all over the world, and without social media, I don’t think we would have been able to do that, unless it was years and years and years and years of touring," she says.
Then there is Elijah Woods. If Tedder is the mentor, Woods is the brother-in-arms. Their collaboration on "I’m Not Pretty" was a lightning-strike moment that defined the speed of modern music production.
"Oh, what he doesn’t do for me… He is such an outstanding human being and an artist as well. He saw my little 15-second video of I’m Not Pretty on TikTok, and just started producing it. Within two days, it was written, and three days later, we had released it. He’s now like family to me; like we’ve worked together so much that we barely even have to talk. He produced my EP. I’m very thankful to have him in my life," she says.
Watching Jessia talk about these heavyweights, you realize she is a sponge. She is soaking up the mechanics of the industry while maintaining her own distinct voice. It’s a precarious balancing act.
"It really, really is. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. It’s very cool," she says.
But the industry doesn't let you sit still. She’s already back in the studio, teasing new collaborations on social media and keeping her cards close to her chest.
"I’m in and I’ve been writing like crazy. New music is coming. Actually, go and check out my TikTok because I’ve been teasing some new music. I’m not sure if I can say any names just yet, but there’s some pretty exciting people that I’ve been working with," she says.
We did get a glimpse of her evolution with "Next Time." It’s a track that feels more like an open wound than a pop song. It lacks the upbeat defiance of her debut, opting instead for a raw, therapeutic honesty.
"Next Time is just a journey. I wrote the song and it was one of the songs that just falls out of you. It had been building up for a while; I’m sure I wrote a million songs to be able to just articulate this one feeling, but none of them were right. Next Time was just supposed to be for myself, and it was supposed to just be like therapy to get something off of my chest, but I ended up showing it to Elijah and he was crazy about it," she says.
The production on "Next Time" is minimalist, letting the vocal carry the emotional weight. It was captured in a single take, a rarity in an era of Auto-Tune and endless comping.
"We set up a microphone right away and that’s the take that ended up making it. It was just one take, just going in and singing the whole song. I ended up showing it to a couple more people, and they thought it was a powerful message. We ended up just having to release it, and the amount of people and the number of stories that it’s been able to help, is overwhelming. I feel very honored that I’m able to do this with my life," she says.
Despite the fame, the "shy side" she mentioned in our previous talk hasn't vanished. If anything, the spotlight has made her more protective of her inner world. She is learning to coexist with the version of herself that wants to hide.
"I don’t think that it’s ever going to really go away. You definitely have different personalities that you put on when you have to be in the public, but I do find that keeping time for myself and shutting myself away with my thoughts and really close friends and family has definitely like helped. I’m not trying to just like write something just to write something. You know what I mean? I think I’m definitely embracing the shy side and seeing that it is a part of me. I definitely don’t shame myself for it. I think that it’s normal and I think it’s very, very healthy to have," she says.
That shyness often clashes with the brutal honesty of her lyrics. There is a tension between wanting to be seen and wanting to remain anonymous, a conflict that fuels the best kind of art.
"Sometimes, yes. Very, very good question, actually. Even with Next Time, there was so many phone calls with my team and Elijah asking things like, 'Can I say these things? Does the world need to hear this much of the intimate Jess?' But I don’t know. I think that I live my life to connect with people, and to skip the small talk. Having that intimacy and that vulnerability in my music allows me to skip the small talk. When meeting fans, we’re all in it, and I love that," she says.
The question remains: how much of herself is she willing to give away? "Next Time" pushed the boundaries of her comfort zone, but it seems she hasn't hit the wall yet.
"We’ll see. I don’t know. I definitely do like the music that is coming out right now, which is very lyrically heavy and talks about the real stuff. I don’t know where I draw the line. I thought that I would draw the line with Next Time, but clearly, I didn’t. I guess that’s something for me to discover," she says.
This emotional purging isn't just for the audience; it’s a necessity for her own mental health. She describes her internal state with a vivid, almost visceral metaphor.
"Yes, it definitely does. It was like a weight lifted off of my shoulders. Like I felt like I had this little gremlin inside of me. I was just like, 'Why do I feel like trash all the time?' Then I find out it’s because I just had some things that I needed to get off my chest," she says.
While she spends a significant amount of time in LA, Jessia remains rooted in the Pacific Northwest. The move to the California sun is purely professional, a chance to put faces to the names she only knew through a computer screen.
"No, no. I’m still Vancouver based. Right now, I’m just writing a bunch and doing what I wanted to do when I first got signed. It all happened during the pandemic, so everything mostly happened over Zoom. I’m here meeting everybody and letting them know I exist," she says.
As for the future, don’t expect another "Next Time" right away. The pendulum is swinging back toward something lighter, something built for a post-pandemic summer.
"Is it bad to say no? I feel like Next Time was the calm before the storm. I feel like I’m wanting to just release a bunch of serotonins, like 'love yourself'. We’re heading into summer and we’re coming out of a pandemic, so I feel like we just need to dance and we need to have a little bit of lightness to our life. And so, I’m writing a lot of colorful music. It’s funny, even with my nails and stuff, I’m going in and being as colorful as I can. My EP was definitely very bitter and strong hearted, and then Next Time is like the closure that you get. Now, it’s just happiness and rainbows. We’re able to discover this whole new side of me," she says.
The mention of colour isn't just a fashion choice. Jessia experiences music through synesthesia, a neurological trait where sounds trigger visual colours. It’s a fascinating layer to her songwriting process that explains the vibrant energy of her work.
"Ooh. You’re coming up with all the good questions. I would say these are probably the colors that I would say I’m vibing with these days (shows her nails). They were just bright blue the other day. It’s pretty much just electric colors. That’s what I’m going for," she says.
This chromatic approach to music allows her to communicate with producers in a language that transcends standard theory. It’s about the "feel" of a shade rather than the key of a song.
"I do see songs in color. I walk into some sessions and I’m like, 'Let’s write a green song today.' They’re like, 'We have no idea what that means, but sure.' I guess it’s like a part of synesthesia - like seeing music and art in different colors. It’s cool to talk to other people who have synesthesia, because they can see things in completely different ways. It’s cool to see the different perspectives and how art can be interpreted," she says.
If her upcoming work is a riot of electric neon, then "Next Time" remains the shadowy outlier. It is a song of the night, a composition that demands a specific kind of solitary focus.
"Next time is definitely dark blue. It’s calm, it’s dark, it’s quiet. I really wanted that song, I to be like the moment when you are alone and you’re just like sitting on your bed staring up at the ceiling - just listening to the lyrics and listening to a story. I would encourage you to do that. Just lie on your floor, stare at the ceiling and cry to Next Time," she says.
It’s a bold request, but one that Jessia has earned the right to make. She isn't just making pop music; she’s building a sanctuary for the shy kids, the gremlin-ridden, and the "not pretty." And with a JUNO in her hand, the rest of the world is finally listening.
