"I felt that what I had to say didn't matter to anybody. That I was a failure," says Starr. "I'm just gonna stop trying. So I did."
"Then I realized I am the artist in the room. I still have a lot to say," Starr recalls. "That was a great gift. I thought that part of my life was over. I thought I was too old, too outspoken, too this, too that. I'm not good enough for this industry."
"I used to be that girl trying so hard to please everybody, to do the right thing in everybody else's eyes," Starr says. "But I can't be that anymore. I know what you want me to be, but I'm not that person. I can't do it. I'm dying inside. I can't hold back."
Starr's singing is both warm and bold, her words softened by the perspective gained from her cohorts without losing the fire of her convictions. She mixes compassion with a sense of purpose that hearkens back to the message-forward spirit of the 1960s folk movement. It's a matter, she says, of being pointed without being angry. "One of the things I've learned is that, if you want to communicate something to somebody, you have to do it in a way that they can hear you," Starr says.