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Backstage at April’s Coachella festival, beyond the influencers, branded content and celebrity PDAs, a viral moment was brewing. R&B superstar Ciara was dancing on a chair – not just any dance, but a gravity-defying move that involved laying stomach-first on the chair’s back, arms locked, feet wiggling to the music. She wasn’t alone either; friends Cara Delevingne, Victoria Monét and Megan Thee Stallion were all doing the move too. The soundtrack was Ecstasy, the sultry new single from Ciara’s forthcoming eighth album, CiCi. The dance became a trend on TikTok, with even a 75-year-old grandma from Miami successfully giving it a go.
When I suggest trying it in our interview, Ciara’s face lights up with enthusiasm. “You can do it,” she says, her American optimism making me believe she’s right. “What kind of chair are you sitting on right now?” I show her my cheap Ikea number and her enthusiasm dips somewhat. She’s sitting in the back of a plush-looking car at a New York airport, waiting to fly to Atlanta, her phone held close to her face so she can see better. It’s not the chair I’m worried about, I tell her, but my general fitness. “You do need a little strength in your arms,” she says, sitting back as if to say: “Let’s not risk it.”
Ciara wasn’t just in the California desert to test out chair choreography. She also made a surprise appearance during Megan Thee Stallion’s set, performing Roc Steady – a track that heavily samples Ciara’s own 2004 breakthrough hit Goodies. That debut single announced her arrival on the global stage, reaching No 1 in the US and UK, and briefly earning her the title “First Lady of Crunk’n’B”, the energetic subgenre that fused hip-hop with club music’s sweat-soaked pulse.
That smash was followed by a string of hits that defined mid-00s pop-R&B: the Missy Elliott collaborations 1,2 Step and Lose Control; the gender-flipping anthem Like a Boy; 2018’s comeback hit Level Up; and sultry slow jams such as Oh, Ride and Body Party. Now, the artist who once cited Michael and Janet Jackson as influences is herself being namechecked by a new generation, including Megan Thee Stallion, Tinashe, Tate McRae and Normani. “It’s so inspiring,” she says of this torch-passing moment. “I think more than those artists know. Meg was sharing some really kind words to me after the performance and I was taking it all in.”
Inspiring it may be, but does being an influence to younger artists make her feel, well, old? She lets out a genuine laugh. “Listen, I got a birthday coming up and so I’ve yet to cross a certain mark in my life,” says Ciara, 39, deliberately avoiding using a certain F-word. “I don’t want to say the age – that’s how significant it is to me. But my point is, I feel like I’m just getting started. I’m much wiser than I was yesterday. But, you know, CiCi is still tapped in, so I don’t feel old yet.”
She will aim to prove that when she headlines south London’s pop-leaning queer festival Mighty Hoopla. Such is her busy life – she’s a mother of four; runs her own record label, Beauty Marks; and is a part owner of US soccer team the Seattle Sounders alongside her husband, NFL star Russell Wilson – that she says she’s still learning about the festival. “I know that everyone loves to come out at Mighty Hoopla,” she smiles. “People want to live their best lives, be free, have fun, dance, leave happy. So that’s my goal: to make people experience all of that.”
Ciara’s positive disposition – nearly every answer is given through a megawatt smile – has been tested over the years. Born “a proud military brat” in Austin, Texas and raised mainly in Atlanta, her mum was in the air force while her dad was in the army. “I didn’t have a lot growing up, to be honest,” she says. “But I had a big dream and I was very convinced in my vision of what I saw life like for myself.” It was a transient early life. At one point the family were stationed in east Germany, with Ciara enrolling in a school in Giessen. She can still remember the food – “I did have bratwurst, but I don’t like sauerkraut so much” – and a tiny bit of the language. “I used to say German curse words, mainly scheisse,” she laughs.
After settling in Atlanta, where she briefly joined a girlband, she was discovered by record producer Jazze Pha, and eventually signed by LA Reid. She already had Goodies in her back pocket. “I believed in that song so much that I held it close by my side,” she says. “I rode in my car, my little Honda Element back in the days, and I would just drive with the instrumental playing, trying to perfect every line.” Having her name on the credits from the off was important to her in a 00s music industry that didn’t necessarily celebrate the input of young Black women. “I really didn’t think I was bound by my ethnicity, or my gender,” she says. “Then as I got older I realised: ‘Oh that really was a different kind of war I was fighting,’ and I had no idea I was, and why I was. I was just this young girl with big ambition and big confidence. I was offputting to some because they couldn’t convince me to think what I didn’t think.”
While the hits kept coming, by 2010’s Basic Instinct, the relationship with her label had disintegrated. For the album’s third single, Gimme Dat, Ciara spent $200,000 of her own money on the video and marketing. “I’m always going to bet on myself,” she states. It’s why she set up her own label: “I’ve just never believed in leaving my career in someone else’s hands. I never have, never will.” There were other battles. Feuds were created left, right and centre, with the media pitting Ciara against Beyoncé and Rihanna (a testy Twitter exchange in 2011 with the latter was blown up into a feud, which the pair “ended” by posing together at the Met Gala earlier this month), while a remix of Keri Hilson’s 2008 Turnin’ Me On was thought to include attacks on Ciara. “In our industry there was this thing, especially back in the day, where executives and teams liked to make girls be separate and not engage with each other,” Ciara says. “It’s so funny because I watch my husband in [American] football and it’s incredible to see how much the boys show each other so much love. And that’s how I’ve always lived my life. I’ve never been a clique person. I always say I’m my own clique.”
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Wilson has been in the news recently after teasingly asking Ciara for a fifth child via messages under her social media posts (Ciara’s eldest son is from an earlier relationship with the rapper Future). When Ciara discusses her ability to fashion eye-popping choreography for even her slowest of ballads, she casually refers to the songs collectively as “baby-making music”. Don’t tell your husband that, I joke. “Oh, he knows,” she smiles. Does he try to put your songs on in the bedroom? “Oh my lordy, Michael!” she screams, before getting serious. “We both love the idea of our family growing, to be honest. [Wilson] always quotes the Bible; be fruitful and multiply. But I love being a mom. It’s my favourite job of all.”
Seemingly, the only thing she loves more is the UK; her 2016 marriage to Wilson took place in a castle in Cheshire. “I’m obsessed with the people in the UK,” she says in a dodgy British accent, “with the energy, the culture. I love the food.” When I tell her I’m surprised by the latter she clarifies that she loves the Japanese food she often eats in the UK. And Nando’s (her order: spicy chicken, sweet potato mash, corn on the cob).
All this talk of Britain returns us to Mighty Hoopla, where the chair-dancing will undoubtedly make a reappearance. With the setlist still up in the air, I suggest she perform 2013’s Overdose, a near-immaculate slice of loved-up dance-pop that should go down a storm. “Oh OK,” she smiles. “That’s some good feedback.” I sense she’s just being nice; if there’s one thing the last 21 years has taught Ciara it’s to follow her instincts.
Ciara plays Mighty Hoopla, Brockwell Park, London, 31 May; CiCi is released 11 July.
