Carter Faith lends her talent to the showgirl revival via Knuckleheads gig

March 1, 2026

Samantha Russell,

Carter Faith // Photo by Samantha Russell

Country-music singer-songwriter Carter Faith claims the zingy acidity that bites beneath her looks.

Faith grew up in South Carolina before moving to Nashville to attend Belmont University. There she honed her songwriting chops, citing early inspiration from her grandfather’s country music tapes.

Red flourished cursive on white lace background wraps around a tour bus outside Knuckleheads Thursday, February 19, proclaiming: “Carter Faith, The ‘Cherry Valley’ Tour.”

Cherry Valley is Faith’s debut album. The album cover presents itself as a drive-in-movie cinematic. Faith stands perched with scalloped sleeves from a white lacy dress draping to her feet. Red velvet curtains slash the cover’s edges, colors invoking duality of angel and devil.

She pulls from past countries’ glory and current pop stars’ hyper-femininity to wrap herself in a pretty bow. But underneath the frills, her music is humorous and filled with authenticity unique unto herself. Faith reclaims female sensuality to drive her stake into country music’s future.

To the stage dappled in red lights and old signage, Carter Faith emerges wearing a high-necked white dress and red neckerchief complete with red leather gloves.

Images of cherries scatter the audience amongst flowing white clothing articles, jeans, and metal concho waist chains. A cowboy hat or two suffices to draw the scene together as plastic-cup cocktails are raised to greet her.

With mournful vocals, she launches into the titular opener, “Cherry Valley,” yearning to return to a lost innocence: “If I could do it all again, I’d never leave heaven.”

What follows in the album are new loves, adventures and misadventures, and what it means to turn an eye on yourself and claim the tart alongside the sweet.

The fallen angel turns right back around to follow up with “the only things that get me through it are sex, drugs, and country music.” So commences Faith’s humor reckoning dismantled innocence.

With the devil in the details, her lyrics contain multitudes. Clever wordplay (“I bet he I bet he I bet he’s with Betty”), blunt one-liners (“I’m pretty sure that even Jesus thinks that you’re a bitch”), and artful figurative speech (“You spin me like a record and wonder why I repeat myself”) encompass her narratives.

Faith is among current artists wielding sexual femininity, reclaiming power from the male gaze. Yet playing to the cheeky tune of a done-up showgirl, she traverses a fine line of authentic expression versus wringing the image for personal benefit.

Potential misogyny arises when a sexualized image plays further into the revoked gaze for personal benefit. Faith doesn’t go that far, often roping it back with her humor. But her crafted image and some lyrics stray close.

That hyper-conscious persona runs amok with artists today. It presents a distanced insincerity. Faith’s overly-aware country lilt falls between Dolly Parton’s honest belt and Sabrina Carpenter’s egocentric breathy one. But when she forgets her persona and leans into raw emotion, she’s gold.

Two-thirds of the way through the set, the band backing her shuffles off stage. There is an underlying shyness that fights her tough-girl act when the band’s energy strips away. Vulnerable, she presents the way she has performed up until this headline tour: alone, with her voice, her lyrics, and her guitar.

Semblances of gold I’ve seen speckled throughout the night solidify into the real stuff. She reaches heights of emotion alone, as if re-experiencing the exact feeling that created the song, letting her natural voice soar.

It takes a lot to evoke emotion in me with live music. Forgive me, I’m analytical. But her voice’s exposed emotion in “Misery Loves Company” brings me to an honest gut-deep level of feeling that triggers heat welling behind the eyes.

Some musicians are at a remove from the lyrics they pen, as if observers following an algorithm. Carter Faith presents a near-authentic voice, lacing humor with honesty in a personal show. We need more of Cherry Valley’s scenery in today’s music landscape.