QSC Aspiring interview: Dylan Cartlidge on foster care to hopeful hits

From a childhood shaped by adversity in the foster care system to releasing music that transforms pain into purpose, UK singer-songwriter Dylan Cartlidge is channelling his experiences into songs with a hopeful, uplifting spin. He tells Headliner about how his past has shaped him into the man he is today and reveals what to expect from his upcoming album, Lucky Shot.

In a quiet corner of Northeast England, inside a “giant, wild, alien-looking purple spaceship” studio that Dylan Cartlidge insists wouldn’t feel out of place in a Gruffalo book, this UK singer-songwriter has been busy working on his second album, Lucky Shot, which is dropping later this year.

"I actually couldn't be much further away from London,” an upbeat Cartlidge tells Headliner from his home studio in Stockton-on-Tees, in Teesside. “We're about 10 minutes from the seaside, and Middlesbrough is the largest town here that's not quite a city. It's a mix of city vibes and coastal proximity. It's quiet and slower-paced, but that's where I am.”

Cartlidge’s journey into music hasn’t been easy. Raised in the care system, moving through 10 foster homes before the age of six, he’s known instability, heartbreak, and trauma firsthand. But he’s also known hope, and a persistent desire to find light in the dark.

“I grew up in foster care, and I think that context really shapes the music I make,” he shares. “Not in a way that’s supposed to be some kind of X Factor sob story,” he insists, “but for me, it’s about how my upbringing informs my work. 

"By the time I was six years old, I’d already spent half my life in care. I had a really turbulent childhood. Pretty much everything the textbooks, psychologists and social workers say can go wrong in a child’s life, I went through it. All the pain, trauma, instability. And while those experiences were very real, I also found a lot of beauty through it all.”

By the time he was eight, he had already assumed a protector role for his younger brother. “I just wanted to shield him from the kind of pain I’d experienced,” he recalls. “At that point, I didn’t really have much in the way of purpose or hope. All I’d ever known was hardship. But when my brother was born, it felt like something pure entered my life. 

"He became a kind of guide, a reason to try and be better. I wanted to be a role model, to light the way somehow. Even though we’d been through horrific things, I wanted to show him that we didn’t have to be defined by our past.”

He speaks matter-of-factly and with humour, never veering into self-pity. “These were the cards we were dealt,” he shrugs, “but we were still people, we had humour, we had big personalities, we loved to laugh. That should be something positive. And I believed that if we worked hard, and with a bit of luck, we could be more than our circumstances. 

"So from then on, I’ve been on a journey of trying to discover myself, to shape an identity I could be proud of. And in many ways, I feel incredibly lucky. That ties directly into the theme of greatness, and even the album I’m working on now, Lucky Shot, which is coming out later this year.”

That resilience is the cornerstone of his music. Where others might pour pain into down-tempo confessionals, Cartlidge has a knack for putting a positive spin on things in his songs. 

“When I was really, really down, all I wanted to do was tell the world how sad I was,” he says. “But I started thinking, ‘What if I took those negative emotions and crafted them into something that offers a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel?’”

Cartlidge’s entry into music finally came at 13, not through theory or lessons, but survival. “I got into music through a mix of different avenues,” he reflects. “But I think the first time I truly connected with music was when I started writing lyrics and raps – writing about my life and telling stories about people I knew.”

It was hip-hop that spoke to him first, and he found himself being especially drawn to Kid Cudi’s storytelling. “He felt like one of the first rappers in popular culture who brought something different,” he enthuses. “He talked about emotions. “It wasn’t just the typical club stuff, like Grey Goose or Hennessy or whatever. For the first time, it felt like it was okay to not be okay, which, yeah, I know sounds a bit cringe to say out loud,” he smiles, holding his hands up in acknowledgement, “but that’s the vibe it gave. 

"Even though Kid Cudi could’ve easily just rapped about cars, fame, and success, he chose to talk about depression, mental health, and personal struggles. He didn’t act like he had it all figured out, and that struck a chord with me.”

Cartlidge credits that honesty with making him feel less alone, a feeling he pours into his music. “There was something powerful about it – it didn’t come across as self-deprecating or like he was trying to be a victim. It just felt honest, like he was sharing how he felt so that others wouldn’t feel alone.”

His musical influences range from the raw soul of Al Green, the gospel sheen of Aretha Franklin, to the high-voltage rock of The White Stripes or The Black Keys, and the glitchy chaos of hyperpop duo 100 gecs.

“Sometimes when I talk to people about the music I’m into, I’ll go off on a bit of a random tangent and they’ll say, ‘Oh, I didn’t expect you to be into that.’ For example, some people are genuinely surprised when I mention how much I know about old soul or funk music. Which is kind of wild, because I’m this big Black guy with an afro that looks like I’ve just stepped off Soul Train!” he laughs. 

“So when I tell people I’m listening to Al Green, Billy Preston, Aretha Franklin, or even The Weather Girls, just proper old-school soul and funk, sometimes that catches them off guard.”

Those influences, his experiences and his positive outlook are sure to be at the heart of Lucky Shot. If his debut album, Hope Above Adversity introduced the world to Dylan Cartlidge’s resilience, Lucky Shot is its evolution, he shares, adding that his new album will be his most vulnerable and artistically daring work yet.

“Whether you’ve followed my music for a while or this is your first time hearing it, I think Lucky Shot shows a bit of growth,” Dylan reveals. “With the first album, I think I held back in places. I was being lyrical but not always honest. Or I’d hint at the darkness but skip over the uncomfortable bits. I’ve let myself write the stuff that felt too vulnerable before. 

"I’m saying what I mean. I’m owning my story, not just the inspiring bits, but the ugly ones too. There’s something powerful about extra-time stories, people who’ve gone through hell, lost everything, and are still trying. I see myself in those stories. I’m still trying too.”

For Cartlidge, what drives him isn’t just chart success or critical praise, though he's earned both, including support from The New York Times, NME, BBC Radio 1, and Top 40 Alternative and AAA radio in the U.S. Despite all these achievements and his flair for songwriting, he’s a self-deprecating Brit at heart: “I think I’m still searching for the ‘talent’ part,” he laughs.

At first listen, Cartlidge’s sound, a vibrant blend of indie, hip-hop, soul, and funk, could be neatly categorised as ‘uplifting’ – his songs are often upbeat, filled with vibrant melodies and messages of hope. But listen closer:

“Something I’d like to do more is to take those negative emotions, those bad experiences, that pain or hardship, and craft it into something that still acknowledges it,” he says. “It still says, ‘Yeah, this hurt,’ or ‘This was hard,’ or ‘This is how I’m feeling,’ but then also adds a little spin – some sort of glimmer of hope, or a nudge towards You’ve Got a Friend in Me energy.

“In my experience, life’s about balance,” he furthers. “Very little is ever black and white, especially when it comes to emotions. When you’re deeply sad, there’s usually still room, eventually, for a little relief or a shift towards something lighter. It might take days, weeks, even years, but it’s there. And the same goes for joy. You might feel on top of the world one moment, and then later that night be asking yourself, ‘Okay, but what does this mean for my life tomorrow?’ 

"So in my music, I’ve tried, and I’m still trying, to dig into those complex emotional spaces, taking the difficult stuff and seeing if I can shape it into a story that carries both light and shade.”

It’s a philosophy that also informs his playful yet poignant lyricism. “I love telling stories. I love wordplay,” he agrees. “But it’s not just for cleverness, it’s about connection. It’s like I’m saying, ‘Hey, I’ve been through some stuff, but maybe you have too. Let’s talk about it, but let’s also laugh a little.’”

His infectious new single, The Greatness, is a fizzy, joyful ode to individuality, co-written and produced by Eg White (Adele, Florence + The Machine) and is about embracing your individuality and finding your unique path to self-discovery. But behind the upbeat production and clever wordplay lies a deeper mission: to give pain a purpose, and to make hope feel earned.

“If you look at different eras of music, like the soul era post-slavery, or civil rights, those artists often channelled struggle into something powerful, something defiant. You had songs like Strange Fruit or Respect. They had energy. Even if they were born of pain, they became anthems of survival.”

For Cartlidge, it’s about striking that same balance, acknowledging the hardship, but not being consumed by it. “There’s a sort of campfire quality to music,” he considers. “We come together through it. Share stories. So, I guess my hope is that even if someone’s going through it, they can find something in my music that lifts them a little. Makes them feel seen, but also a bit stronger.”

Given all he’s been through and the resilience found in his songs, he explains what the phrase ‘Play Out Loud’ means to him: 

“I think it’s about going for it. It’s that idea of: if you’ve got something to say, say it. If you’ve got something you want to do, do it. Don’t live with regret. Don’t be afraid to be yourself. Don’t be afraid to be bold, or to be brave enough to give something a proper go. There are so many moments in life, both for myself and for people I know, where you get caught in that feeling of uncertainty, thinking, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, or I’m not sure if it’ll work out.’ And there are a million and one reasons to play it safe, to hold back a bit, to not take the risk. And of course, safety isn’t a bad thing, far from it,” he points out. 

“I’m not saying to throw caution to the wind completely. But for me, it’s about pushing through that hesitation. If there’s something you want to create, or something you want to chase in your life that you haven’t gone for yet, don’t wait around. Tomorrow isn’t promised. And what’s the worst that can happen?”

As Cartlidge stands on the cusp of releasing Lucky Shot, there’s a quiet power in the way he reflects on everything that’s led him here.

“People from my background, kids who look like me, who’ve been through what I’ve been through, statistically don’t do well. You rarely hear from us. We’re not represented. The path that's often laid out is bleak: drugs, prison, or worse. So, even though I’ve struggled and still struggle, I felt like, in a way, this is my bonus level. This was my DLC extra time,” he laughs, confessing that he’s a big gaming and anime nerd. 

“I survived things that could’ve broken me, and now I have this unexpected chance to live a full life. That perspective changed everything for me. I’m not saying it’s all sunshine and rainbows, but I’ve tried to approach life and my music with a sense of purpose and gratitude. 

"Yes, I’ve endured hardship. But surviving it has given me a new beginning, even if it came later than I would have liked. I didn’t have the kind of support or privileges that others may have had growing up, but I have a chance now, and that means everything.”

Last photographer credit: Leo Cackett