Musical Metamorphosis: The Unwilling Transformation of Tate McRae into SZA

In 2024, on July 1st, the height of summer, Tate McRae was preparing to perform at a concert. Dressed in a simple black two-piece outfit, perfectly fitting her 5'6" slender frame that boasted a 55 kg weight, her youthful vibe contrasted with the mature and spiritual aura of SZA. With her light brown hair loose and flowing down her back, her enchanting blue eyes shone brightly under the spotlights. Born in 2003 in Calgary, Canada, Tate, who was on the verge of celebrating her 21st birthday, came from a small, loving family where her mum was a dancer and her dad a gym enthusiast. As she stepped onto the stage, she began singing a song from her collection, her voice ringing out clearly, "You broke me first, You're the one that got away, I'm a wreck..." Mid-lyric, everyone present experienced an inexplicable change. Tate's voice deepened suddenly, her light Canadian accent transforming into a distinctive New Jersey twang associated with none other than SZA. Turning 36 that year, SZA, born as Solána Imani Rowe on November 8, 1988, with her imposing stature of 5'5", weighing 132 pounds, a head full of dark, curly locks, and her enchanting green eyess, SZA was a clear contrast to the petite, youthful Tate. Born into an African-American muslim family in Saint Louis, Missouri, SZA was known for her unique style and edgy lyrics. As Tate groped in shock, her outfit began to transform, fabric shifting and adjusting to mimic SZA's signature oversized shirt coupled with baggy trousers. The audience watched in stunned silence as the transformation took place. "Niggas want me to get ratchet...," Tate began rapping, on autopilot, her new voice articulating the lyrics of a popular SZA song. It continued, "Put the hood on, now they callin' me Cassius... Raunchy like Bob Saget...," until the point when she faltered and stopped, realizing the words that had just spilled from her mouth. She was aghast. Words that SZA used, words she would never use, were slipping off her tongue and she felt the texture and taste of them, feeling loathsome, "...I ain't no Julia Stiles, this ain't no last dance, way past it...," she involuntarily echoed SZA's words, covering her mouth in surprise. Tate didn't feel comfortable with these changes, the way her body felt. She missed her own style, her own music, not this intuitive and confrontational output of words set to a rhythmic beat. It just didn't feel like her. The newfound power in her voice, the shift from her singing style to gruff rapping was enough to make her feel not at ease. She wasn't SZA, she was Tate McRae, and she yearned to have her own identity back. "I don’t know why you want me to turn ratchet. This ain’t me, I’m Tate, not SZA," she announced to the audience in SZA's voice. But it didn't feel right. The words, the voice, none of it was her. She wanted to be herself again, sing her own songs in her own voice. This transformation was nothing short of a nightmare for the young artist.