Mary Lambert searches for human connection

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Two years ago, when Mary Lambert guested on the Macklemore & Ryan Lewis track “Same Love,” the Seattle artist was a bartender and a poet. When the song went supernova, though, she was ushered onto red carpets and signed to Capitol Records. It was an unexpected surge for the 25-year-old, but she is making the most of her moment, using her new fame to talk about things that actually mean something to her.

On the evidence of her debut full-length, Heart on My Sleeve, those things are serious: the sexual abuse she endured as a child, her sexual identity (Lambert is a lesbian), her bipolar diagnosis. No topic is too personal, and Lambert — whose phone voice is friendly and sweet — has come to think of that bare-it-all approach as the mission of her music. Ahead of Lambert’s Monday-night show at RecordBar, we dialed her up at home.

The Pitch: You’re pretty up-front about being bipolar, a condition that must have an effect on your music and how you play it from day to day.

Lambert: The only thing that affects me when I’m performing is if it’s not the right vibe — if the audience is being assholes or talking if they’re not there for the music. You want people to be invested and listening. I think when I’m putting it all out there, some of these very terrifying facts about myself, and I’m met with a lack of respect, it can hurt.

There’s a sort of warts-and-all honesty in your lyrics. Why is that important to you?

Vulnerability is at the core of what I do and what I want to accomplish. I think when you’re encouraging vulnerability, you’re encouraging empathy. And I think we have a lack of empathy in today’s world. And when you have a lack of empathy, you have a lack of understanding. And then you have people shooting each other, and I don’t want people to shoot each other anymore.

I care deeply about people, and I think if there’s any way I can be any good, it’s by being vulnerable. If there’s a way I can put myself on the line to be vulnerable, then you extend an invitation to another person to be vulnerable and be OK with that.

Yet the song “Ribcage” was written after an interview that made you feel too exposed. How do you draw the line between what you’re comfortable sharing and what you’re not?

In my work and in my shows and in what I do, I’m in control, and when I’m in control, I feel safe enough to talk about what I want to. And sometimes that’s including my sexual abuse. But then, when someone pinpoints it and you’re not in control — the question [is asked], “How did you go through this?” — that’s not even relevant to the situation. That’s what I have a problem with. That’s where I get upset. It’s the entitlement and the insensitivity of the question.

If I want to talk about my traumas on my stage and in my work, that’s on me, and I can take it as far as I want it. But to bring visceral imagery up by looking for shock value or a sound bite, that’s unkind, and it’s not fair. It conjures up really awful things, and I have to be really careful. But I think, in general, part of my job in this thing is to be an educator, and I think I’m OK with that.

I find it interesting that your name is attached to some big stars — the hit with Macklemore, your performance with Madonna at the Grammys — and yet this tour is a club circuit. I almost would have expected you to open for some super-famous pop star instead of a tour like this. Is there something behind that?

It was totally intentional. I wanted this tour to be my first headlining tour. I went on two Macklemore tours, and I went on tour with Gavin DeGraw this summer, and this is my first moment to be in my element and do the show I wanted to do. I get to write my own story this time. For me, being a headliner means a lot of creative control, and the people that come to that show are there for me, and that commands a certain kind of audience and certain kind of atmosphere. People cry at my shows. We feel each other, and it’s one big family. My shows are like family.

I imagine economy-sized boxes of tissues are brought out.

[Laughs.] I have handkerchiefs with my lyrics on them [for sale], which I felt was a pretty good business plan. But I tell people at the beginning: “I’m bipolar and I’m gonna really screw you up, too. You’re gonna be on an emotional roller coaster.” But it’s just nice to be in a community of kindness. My shows are safe.