“When we find our joy, we become harder to break. We remember who we are, even in moments when the world is trying to convince us otherwise… Art doesn’t always have to be a protest in the traditional sense. Sometimes choosing joy… is its own form of resistance.”
Ahead of the San Francisco Public Library’s Bay Beats Bandshell party—the program’s biggest event of the year—we spoke with vocalist, songwriter, and curator Frankie Maston. Blending afro-soul, R&B, reggae, and afro-pop while singing in Kiswahili and practicing sound baths, Matson brings a deeply restorative and transformative presence to the stage.
Read the full, unedited conversation below as we cover their move to the Bay Area three years ago, finding safety and belonging within local queer and trans communities, translating ancient rhythms into modern healing spaces, and using music as a tool for collective liberation.
You moved to the Bay Area three years ago seeking diversity and musical innovation. What was it about this region’s energy that gave you such an immediate sense of belonging compared to anywhere else?
Frankie Maston: I fell in love with the diversity here, and especially with the presence of queer and trans communities in the Bay Area that seem to thrive in ways I haven’t experienced anywhere else in the world I’ve traveled to. I immediately felt welcomed and at home when I performed at my very first show in Oakland.
As a queer artist from a veiled society, I was often told to hide away, to suppress myself, and was shamed for expressing my identity. Coming to the Bay Area, I found a sense of safety and freedom that allowed me to express myself fully and build community with people who could relate to and understand my story.
I felt welcomed by the Bay Area in a way that was deeply personal. I found space to be seen, to create, and to grow. Since then, I’ve flourished here like a pretty little flower by beautiful waters.
Your music seamlessly blends afro-soul, R&B, reggae, and afro-pop while honoring your origins from Tanzania. How has living in the Bay Area influenced the way you fuse these global rhythms and tell your stories?
One thing I noticed immediately after moving here was how different my music was from what was popular in the Bay Area. It was a beautiful discovery. As an artist who loves to explore sound and fuse different musical traditions, I found myself inspired by the Bay Area’s openness to experimentation and new forms of expression.
Music has always been an immediate source of therapy for me. It has literally saved my life, but I never really stopped to think about the healing power of sound itself. The way people here experience and consume music held up a mirror in front of me and revealed the healer within me.
Since then, I’ve begun practicing sound healing through sound baths, incorporating traditional instruments and vocals. That experience has deeply reshaped the way I write and think about music. I’m now creating from a place that feels more intentional, spacious, and healing, while still honoring the rhythms and stories of where I come from. I couldn’t be more excited for the world to hear the new music I’m currently working on. Hint: it’s going to be an ethereal and therapeutic experience.
The Bay Area has also encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone musically. I’ve recently started learning guitar, slowly but surely, and that new relationship with the instrument is opening up even more possibilities for me.
You’ve noticed local audiences connecting deeply when you sing in Kiswahili, proving emotion transcends language barriers. What has that level of open-mindedness from Bay Area listeners meant to you as a performer?
At first I feared that no one would get my music, I thought the audiences here would have a hard time connecting to my music due to the language difference, I truly underestimated myself and my music and have since learned a new lesson. I feel even more confident now to express myself in ways only I know best to. I am very excited to bring the rhythm of East Africa to this part of the world, to contribute to the diversity that makes the Bay Area special. And the thought of fusing these new musical experiences with my original sound, excites me for what the future looks like as I create with other amazing artists here in the Bay Area. This place simply said to me that I belong here and my music is welcome and loved. When I see people singing along to my music in Kiswahili and dancing to the rhythm, I feel joy, I feel at home, I see a beautiful and deep connection.
Additionally It just says to me that the Bay Area knows what’s good and has some good taste in music, it listens to the spirit of sound and is open to connect with music beyond language barriers. Part of that is facilitated by the diversity in cultures here. This place is a melting pot of inspiration and spirits.
In just a few short years, you’ve headlined Trans March and shared stages from Outside Lands to Joshua Tree Music Festival. How has the local queer and gender-expansive artistic community supported your trajectory here?
The local queer and gender-expansive artistic community has created something that has been incredibly meaningful to me: a sense of safety and belonging. It has given me space to show up fully as an artist and as a queer person, without feeling like I have to hide or separate one from the other. And that is something I vow to create for other queer and trans people through my music and my platform.
I remember working so hard over the years to build my profile, grow an audience, make great music, and pay my dues in every way while still having to carry the constant feeling of rejection and exclusion. Because I openly identified as a queer artist, I often encountered homophobic and transphobic environments that made it harder to access spaces, opportunities, and chances to grow.
Here in the Bay Area, I’ve experienced something very different. I don’t feel like I’m constantly fighting gatekeepers or worrying about whether my identity will be accepted. In fact, it often feels like the opposite. I can express myself freely, tell my stories proudly, and trust that those stories will be welcomed.
The work I’ve put into my artistry over the years opens doors for me here, and my identity gets to walk through those doors with me. I don’t have to leave any part of myself behind to belong. That has been incredibly liberating. And now, as I continue to grow, I want to make sure I’m helping hold those doors open for the queer and trans artists coming behind me.
Moving to a new region—especially one as notoriously expensive as the Bay Area—presents real challenges for independent artists. What keeps you committed to staying and building your career here despite the financial pressure?
It’s definitely a balancing act, but I have big dreams that I have to see come true and a vision that powers me up every morning. So I’ve had to learn to make it work because I believe in what I’m building here.
More than anything, though, what keeps me committed is community. My chosen family, my friends, and the incredible creative people I continue to meet along the way. Finding my people and building community was actually one of the very first things I went looking for when I arrived here. I knew that would help ground me and get through tough times.
The Bay Area gave me that. It gave me people who see me, support me, collaborate with me, and remind me why I’m doing this in the first place.
So yes, the financial pressure is real, but I’m working hard to build a sustainable life as an independent artist, even if it means I have to have a day job :). The thought that I’m also building a home, a community, and a creative life here roots me and grounds me. And again, I honestly don’t know where I would be without my people in the Bay.
As an artist who has navigated everything from intimate local stages to massive festivals in a short period, what do you see as the biggest structural hurdles facing emerging artists in the Bay, and what would you like to see change?
One of the first things that comes to mind for me is branding and access. As someone who majored in Marketing in college, I’ve learned that building a career in music requires more than making great music. You have to look within, understand your unique story, and figure out how to communicate it in a way that people can connect with. I’m not saying I’ve mastered this, I’m very much still learning but I’ve seen how learning to package myself and my story, and having the right tools to do that, has opened doors for me here. I think a lot of emerging artists have incredible stories and talent, but may not have access to the resources, knowledge, or people who can help them translate that into sustainable opportunities.
The other big one is networking and access to the right rooms. The Bay has so much talent, but I think it can still be difficult for emerging artists to know where to go, who to talk to, and how to get their foot in the door. Even for me, networking is something I know I need to do more of. I want to keep challenging myself to walk into rooms that scare me, talk to people who intimidate me, and put myself in spaces where I don’t necessarily know what might come from it.
So if I could see something change, I’d love to see more intentional pathways for emerging artists to access these rooms, resources, mentors, and opportunities, especially artists who may not already have industry connections. There is so much creativity here, and I’d love to see more of that talent have the support and access needed to actually thrive.
I’m still early in my journey, so I won’t pretend to have all the answers. But I do know that I’ve gotten this far by learning to tell my story, showing up, and being willing to step into unfamiliar spaces. I’d love to see the Bay make it a little easier for the next generation of artists to do the same.
Independent stages and community-led events are vital for gender-expansive and global diaspora artists. Which Bay Area venues or community hubs have felt the most welcoming and restorative to you as a performer?
There are a few spaces that have really stood out to me, each in a different way.
First is The Mirrored Sessions, my own collaborative arts platform, which I debuted this year in partnership with the Queer Cultural Center. It was really special to create a space that reflects the kind of community I want to see more of. Bringing together live music, dance, and artists from across the Bay Area. I’m excited to continue growing The Mirrored Sessions and creating more opportunities for queer, trans, gender-expansive, and diaspora artists to share their work and connect with one another.
The San Francisco LGBT Community Center and Oakland LGBTQ Community Center are also incredibly meaningful to me. I actually researched both of these spaces long before I moved to the Bay Area. Back home in Tanzania, I could only dream of having spaces where queer and trans people could gather, feel safe, and build community so openly. So having the privilege to be served by these spaces has been deeply meaningful to me.
Then there are spaces like the BlaQyard, curated by 7000 Coils, which have introduced me to another side of the Bay’s creative community. And something as simple as Days Like This, the dance gathering by Lake Merritt every Friday, has become meaningful to me too. I go there and make new friends, both creative collaborators and personal friends. Those kinds of gatherings remind me that community isn’t always built on a stage or in a formal institution. Sometimes it happens simply by showing up, dancing, and being around people.
All of these spaces have given me different forms of belonging and restoration. They’ve reminded me that I don’t have to build my artistic life alone, and that there are people here who want to see artists like me not just survive, but thrive.
Your work explicitly aims to give voice to souls that yearn for hope. How do you see your music functioning within the Bay Area’s long history of art as a tool for healing and social justice?
As someone who constantly turns to music for therapy, it has literally saved my life many times. I deeply believe in the healing power of sound and music. I believe that through music, we can tap into something within ourselves that is incredibly powerful: joy. And I believe joy is a form of power. When we find our joy, we become harder to break. We remember who we are, even in moments when the world is trying to convince us otherwise.
That is what I want my music to do. When I write and perform, I want to create a moment where we can collectively remember joy. To breathe, dance, sing, feel, and forget, even if only for a little while, how heavy or chaotic life can be. For me, that is part of healing, and it is also a form of taking our power back. I think that fits beautifully within the Bay Area’s history of using art as a tool for healing, liberation, and social justice. Art doesn’t always have to be a protest in the traditional sense. Sometimes choosing joy, especially in the face of everything that tries to take it away from us, is its own form of resistance.
I hope my music can contribute to that spirit here. I hope the Bay Area keeps singing, dancing, gathering, and remembering its happiness through all the incredible music and art it is blessed with. Because sometimes, remembering that we are still capable of joy is how we remember that we still have power.
On days when the hustle of making art and building a life in the Bay feels overwhelming, what specific memory, performance, or connection in this community reminds you why it’s worth staying?
One of the moments that most reminds me why I chose to move here was successfully producing The Mirrored Sessions this year at The Palace Theatre in San Francisco. Seeing people connect with the stories that my fellow featured performers and I were telling through live music and dance was incredibly moving. Watching the audience sing, dance, and experience the work together brought me back to the reasons I came here in the first place.
Through The Mirrored Sessions, I realized that I could create more than music and perform on a stage. I could create a third space for community, connection, healing, and expression. Seeing the whole thing come to life, from the initial idea to the collaboration with such incredible artists and production team, showed me what is possible when we create together.
That experience reminded me that my purpose here can extend beyond my own artistry. I can be the person on stage telling my story, but I can also be the person creating the space for other people to tell theirs. I want to keep curating spaces like The Mirrored Sessions. I want more opportunities to dance, sing, connect, and experience that sense of togetherness with people in this community. Whether I’m performing on stage or producing a space and inviting other artists to share their stories, that feeling of collective expression is something I want to keep building.
When the hustle gets overwhelming, I think back to that room, the energy, the people, the music, the movement, and everything we created together. It reminds me that this is bigger than a music career. I’m building community, and that makes it worth staying.
Having built such strong momentum in just three years, what gives you the most hope about the future of the Bay Area music scene and your place within it?
What gives me the most hope is the Bay Area’s openness to new ideas, its incredible diversity, and its queerness in all its forms. There is something about the freedom to be different here that makes the possibilities feel endless. It makes me believe there is an infinite amount of room for growth, experimentation, and connection.
I still have so much to learn and explore, both musically and personally. There is so much music I want to make, so many sounds I want to experiment with, so much community I want to build, and so many memories I want to make. I feel inspired every day, sometimes by something as simple as a conversation, a new sound, a stranger dancing, a beautiful view, or an unexpected creative encounter. The Bay feels like a chapter of many lessons and experiences, and when I look at how much has happened in just three years, it reassures me that I came to the right place.
I’m excited to see what the next few years look like. I want to keep experimenting, keep trying new things, keep discovering new sounds and experiences, and keep allowing myself to evolve. I want to live out loud, unapologetically, and take up space as the artist and person that I am.
And perhaps most importantly, I’m learning that growth isn’t only about doing more. It’s also about slowing down, honoring the journey, and pouring love back into myself.
That, to me, is the most exciting part of the future: knowing that I’m only getting started.
