(Watch What Happens When You) Call Her Beef Jerky Bitch

Photos taken by Milo Lee

Chloe Tang is not the person you think she is if you only listen to her music. You get her vibrance and self-assuredness from listening to her latest record, E-Pity Me. Four years into her musical career since she dropped her single ‘Hangover’ in 2017, Tang has amassed over 4 million streams with several acclaimed singles. But sitting down with her feels like catching up with a humble and grounded old friend over coffee – the one who exudes warmth and kindness – although she doesn’t drink coffee. 

As I interview her, Tang lounged outside in a chair back at her parents’ place in Phoenix, Arizona. She wore a structured blue sleeveless top and light gray sweatpants. The birds chirping in the background were a welcome reprieve from the cars racing down my street. 

Over the course of our hour-long conversation, I learned about her new album, childhood, exes and heartbreak, move to LA, social media, and dedication to authenticity.

The Craft of a Singer-Songwriter

A question I’ve had for every artist since March 2020 is how the pandemic and lockdown have affected their songwriting process and collaboration, given how highly collaborative making music is. Tang explained how the largest toll of the pandemic had been the inability to bounce ideas off another person in the room. Anyone who has been on a creative team before knows the importance of brainstorming and ideating in the comfort of a familiar space with trusted people. Although she wrote most of the record pre-pandemic, the visualizers that accompanied the album’s singles were the last to come together. 

Through her last several years as a songwriter, Tang admitted that the process has gotten easier. 

“I do feel like I’ve kind of got it down to a T at this point. It has not always been like that, obviously. I started out doing the singer-songwriter thing, where I sit down at the piano or with my guitar and, kind of like, come up with some chords and go from there.” 

We took a moment to laugh at the stereotypical image. For all the jokes, it truly is the most simple and accessible form of songwriting. Tang makes heavy use of her phone’s notes app to collect the scraps of melodies, lyrics, and images that materialize in her mind.

“But at this point, the first step is always concept for me because concepts are really, really important to me. It’s important that they stand out.” 

But what Tang values most is that her songs are representative of her “as an artist, and as a person,” as she puts it. 

Don’t Pity Her Because This Album Is a Banger 

E-Pity Me has an undercurrent common to breakup albums. The tracks “Walk You Out” and “Voicemails” register as the initial separation and then longing, respectively. Other songs on the EP sprinkle in and encapsulate the awareness of knowing when a relationship has turned sour —  or was never good in the first place. 

After going through a breakup during the pandemic myself, I was most interested in hearing the process behind making “Voicemails,” a song that Tang had shared on TikTok prior to our interview. There is a distinct kind of hurt attached to missing someone who had the privilege of knowing you like no one else. 

For Tang, writing this song was all about timing. “It was the perfect amount of time since the breakup. It wasn’t too short, where I was like ‘Oh God, I’m not ready.’ But it wasn’t too long, where I’m like ‘Okay, I’m over it.’” Her vision was specific and based on, well, her voicemails from an ex. She opened up to me about how she and a couple of friends individually keep boxes of mementos they’ve kept from past relationships. Tang’s box isn’t particularly full of tangible objects. However, she remembered in her phone live voicemails that she “listen[s] to when [she feels] alone,” a line on the track. I imagine that there is a deep – albeit fleeting – comfort in hearing the sound of a familiar voice, before it’s clouded by the arguments, devastation, and loss. Voicemails and recordings might be the closest devices we have to time travel. 

Tang wrote “Voicemails” with a close group of friends, but when it finally came time to release the song to the world, she had her anxieties. Her secret moments of indulgence would be a secret no longer. However, Tang said that even though it was hard to expose this sensitive side of herself, it was worth it, “I hope when people hear it, they can really, really, really just appreciate the vulnerability.” 

But a persistent question that ached to be answered was, did the ex listen to her music? 

When I asked her if she knew, Tang paused and laughed in an all-too-familiar way, “I think about this way too often. I don’t know if he listened to it.” However, due to having met at school, she said: 

“People still connect us in that way… I know 100% if he did hear it, he knows it’s about him. I’m not sure how he would feel about it. I would hope that, even if it’s not right now, one day he can look back at it and listen to the song. Without any pain or resentment and just appreciate, I mean maybe not even appreciate it, but recognize that I wrote that because of a deeper feeling. But I still, you know, really deeply care about him.” 

The maturity behind Tang’s intentional release of resentment was clear, and hearing her talk about it was healing. It is hopeful that with time and distance, the end of all healthy relationships can be this graceful. 

“It’s obviously hard to have that kind of connection with someone because it’s so amazing. But then when you lose it, it’s devastating… So I just never want the devastation to get in the way, or to cover up the love that was, or is there.” 

The Road to Becoming a Pop Sensation Is Paved With a Good Support Network 

It’s obvious from the way that Tang talks about her past that she knows her roots and pays her dues. She humbly thanked everyone she’s had the opportunity to work with and who has encouraged her. But to understand where she is now, it was important to Tang that she pays homage to her experiences growing up in Phoenix. It was where she went to high school, a “prevalent time in [her] life.” 

“You know when you’re in high school, you just want to be cool. That’s like literally all you want in the world — is to be cool, to be wanted. You want people to have a crush on you, you know. I tried my best to do those things. I was on the dance team and doing these things that I really thought would bring me fulfillment, and [they] obviously didn’t. Now I know that those things aren’t going to do that, but—” in high school, it’s easy to feel that way. As if happiness could be achieved with one easy fix, an idea that Tang explores on the track “602.” 

The song, which gets its name from a Phoenix area code, is ultimately wish fulfillment. “602” gives Tang’s high school self a party-vision, idealized version of youth. Her yearning and consuming desire for confidence resonated. 

“I was kind of rewriting my past into what I wish I was like. What I thought I wanted—and that’s somebody who is really fucking cool, and confident, and who does drugs, and goes to parties, and drinks on the weekends, and doesn’t care what people think. When in reality, I don’t think that was me. That wasn’t me.” 

Which begs the question: who is Chloe Tang? 

Tang is a pop artist in her own right, complete with periods of reinvention. She is a classically trained musician on the piano. Yet, unlike many children who started learning piano, she saw music as a viable career and calling. 

However, it wasn’t until she had to think about leaving high school (and the pressure that comes with deciding on what to do for the rest of your life that is all-too-often placed on 16-year-olds) that she shared this calling with her parents. Luckily, what her passion for music was unwavering.“I always knew in my heart, deeply, that music was my path. I just had a hard time expressing it. When I finally did express it, I was like ‘I want to go to school for songwriting.’ It wasn’t difficult really.” Enter: songwriting at the University of Colorado Denver. 

While Tang’s family has been an encouraging support system for her, they were not without their initial hesitations and parental fears for their daughter entering into the arts and entertainment industry. “They have definitely been supportive and less resistant than I think some other traditional Asian American parents would. The difficult part was going through the process of explaining that it’s possible now to do music without having a huge record deal… The music industry is changing so much.” 

Interestingly, Tang cited the biggest influence on their change of heart was when she gave her parents tickets to see her perform live. It wasn’t just any gig; she was opening up a sold-out concert for Dua Lipa at the Fillmore Auditorium in Denver. At that moment, her parents got to see the path from their daughter’s perspective. They visualized how a career in music could be tangible. For Tang, that moment proved to her that she belonged on the stage. Opening for an international icon also manifested the trust placed in Tang, by venue bookers and other artists, her potential to be a star. 

That day, she walked the halls of the Fillmore that she used to work security for to get to the stage, escorted by people she called co-workers only months before. From hating her piano recitals when she was younger to drinking in the buzz of the crowd, the paradigm of performing had shifted for Tang. Even though the crowd wasn’t there to see her, she remarked, it was electrifying having so many people cheering for her. Tang imparted her music and shared the start of her journey with this audience of over 3,500 concertgoers. 

“When I was on stage, I thought, Oh my god. This feels right and feels like what I’ve been working for. It was a taste, a touch of what could really be for me in the future.” 

Social Media: A Parade for the Misfits

Like any modern interviewer, I spent some time before our meeting prepping by scrolling through Tang’s Instagram, Twitter, and most interestingly, her TikTok. On it, Tang shares her latest outfits, worldviews, and singalongs to her songs using a large pearlescent vibrator as a microphone (yes, you read that correctly). 

Tang’s style is edgy and slightly personal – the definition of unapologetic. In short, she personifies Hot Girl Summer™. Tang owns her identity boldly and stands in defiance of anyone who questions it. She uses the handle @beefjerkybih (pronounced “beef jerky bitch”), which I had been dying to hear the origins of. 

It wasn’t an inside joke with friends or an old nickname, but a tale of reclamation. 

“One day I was driving home [from college], and there’s this group of teenage-ish dudes and they came up next to me, on a residential street. They’re like ‘Roll down your window’...and just threw a bunch of beef jerky at me.” She laughed openly, though it sounded a little strained.

 “And they said ‘Want some beef jerky, bitch?’ I was so confused.” I heard the confusion in her tone as she retold it. “It was really mean, but like —  in a funny way.” 

Tang chose to use this randomly bizarre and derogatory phrase and repurposed it into something that serves her. And it does. She has chosen to reclaim “beef jerky bitch” from the hands of The Great Annoyance (teenage boys) and joked about her obsession with beef jerky.

Though Tang was originally “not about social media” and was in favor of focusing on her music, after conversations with friends and a new appreciation for behind-the-scenes work in social media, she backtracked. It could be about more than marketing, she realized. Tang had a bigger goal in mind: “Ultimately, I want to create a cool community of people who aren’t afraid to be themselves. [People] who aren’t afraid to be laughed at and act dumb, especially those who felt like they didn’t fit in growing up.” It’s almost ironic how most of us just want to fit in when we’re young, but as we get older are looking for ways to stand out again. 

But Tang’s playful and inviting approach to social media was also a way to heal her younger self, “I needed somebody that looks like me, that sounded like me, that had a similar experience growing up as me to say ‘Quit caring about everyone else and just do what you want to! Do your art the way you want to it. If it makes you feel empowered, then do it.’” 

“If you fuck with this,” she gestures vaguely through the air, to her music and personality, “Then come on! You’re welcome to join the party.” 

The Evolution of Fame and Chasing Beauty 

Tang has proven that eras exist, whether we slowly move into them or hit the fast track. Moreover, they can be inexplicably tied to geography. 

When Tang first left Arizona to study in Denver, Colorado, she had been on a journey of change. Whether it be due to the distance from home and her parents, newfound autonomy, or simply the catalyst that is the college experience, Tang paved the way for a new self to emerge. She studied songwriting and soon found herself collecting ink and a group of friends who would be her band to open up the largest crowd she’s performed for. 

Since then she’s amassed an impressive gallery of tattoos on her skin, but she proudly turned to show off her first design, a scorpion poised on her left shoulder blade. She also revealed the proud 602 permanently etched across her knuckles. It is a homage to the place that raised her, and perhaps a parting gift, as she moved to Los Angeles to be closer to the music industry, becoming a full-fledged LA-based artist. 

When she first moved to the City of Angels after graduating from college, she felt immense pressure again to be liked, “It was almost like a throwback to high school. I gotta fit in.” 

On chasing beauty and approval in L.A., Tang explained, “Everyone is beautiful. Everyone has so much accessibility to resources and tools that can help them feel and be more attractive. Basically, there’s a lot of pressure in L.A. to be hot.” 

However, be assured that there is a reprieve from constant judgment. For Tang, going to Griffith with her dog is a “nice getaway… [a] little opportunity to be in nature.” She divulged, “Griffith is like my happy place. It’s so easy to get distracted by everything happening around you [in L.A.] but you go up there and realize it’s just a city. Those are just people. Those are just humans even though it feels like they’re the whole world.” 

Rising from the Ashes, a Phoenix in Her Own Right

Quarantine allowed Tang to find clarity and ease. She places tremendous value in the comfort of her living space. In it, alongside other TikTokers and the safety net of the lockdown, Tang took the leap and let go of her long hair and welcomed a shaven head. In doing so, Tang directly challenged her beliefs and societal constructs surrounding attractiveness as it relates to gender expression — solidified with a freshly tattooed composition of detailed flowers on her left side of her head. 

“I really don’t care about looking a certain way to anyone else anymore…who fucking cares? I am like a chameleon, I can shapeshift. I can wear wigs if I want to. Shaving my head gave me the confidence to be seen. People are going to see just my face and no hair [to hide behind]. Why not embrace it? That’s when I ran with it, and it’s only gotten better since.” 

And she animatedly confessed that the “new era of Chloe Tang is really exciting…[This] is going to be different than anything I’ve ever put out because I am different from the person I have been in the past. I can’t wait to show the world I’m not afraid to do it all.” 

Not everything about L.A. was destructive. Living in the metropolis and existing around more diversity than she had growing up became a major influence on her new music following E-Pity Me. 

“I spent my whole childhood and life just not being interested because I wanted to look like someone else. I was interested in somebody else’s culture, and I never had any interest in [my own]. And it’s very unfortunate because I just didn’t know any better, and that was the environment that was handed to me.

“I’m starting to find my identity. I’m starting to be proud of it and not just cover it up. The journey is just beginning… It’s never too late to be proud of, or learn about, where you came from.” 

In truly unapologetic fashion and fueled by decades of misrepresentation and time bided, she declared, “There are just some moments in the songs where I’m just gonna say this: ‘Bitch, I’m Chinese. Quit asking me what I am.’” 

She articulated that even though there is signficant strength in the AAPI community, the sentiment acknowledges that Asian Americans do not share a monolithic narrative. Her eloquence belies her frustration with the entertainment industry. More importantly, it gives power to many Chinese-Americans, to hear their identity spoken not as a dirty word or insult, but as a proud truth. 

Tang described her next phase as “the Asian American icon who has danceable, relatable music. She is a real person and isn’t afraid to show the world that.” She plans to be the representation that she didn’t have growing up and to have a good time doing it. 

Chloe Tang channels the ever-changing nature of the chameleon for what is bound to be a thrilling project release.

Interview by Ivy Fan

Playlist maker, houseplant collector, coffee drinker, and poet exploring the intersectionality of identity.