Cam Carter Perspective on Fake Sunsets

I am Cam Carter.  I am a songwriter and recording artist from Memphis, TN.  I hold the pen and things happen.

Being from Memphis, tranditionally I gravitate towards more of a country/trap sound more often.  However, with "Fake Sunsets," I collaborated with my good friend RAYK44TREY and we together took my first stab at a timeless west coast rap record.  My background has made me versatile and open to to make myself in uncormfortable scenarios.  And this song is about what I noticed about the side of Hollywood most people don't get the opportunity to see.

I used to listen to artists like 2pac and Outkast very early back when Napster was a force.  I was grounded so much, I read enclopedias and listened to all forms of 90s rap.  I mixed in other like The Beatles and Eric Clapton.  And overtime that music interest grew into a variety of different genres and different styles of artists.

I had to learn the hard way after my mother passed.  I wanted to make my family proud and I realized life is too short to let your music die inside.  I thought I made that quote because it was embedded into my soul.  Then when seeing old documentaries and hearing my favorite artist also saying similiar things I realized they were just like me at one point and if I dont do this and start now, its one step closer to my music dying inside.  Some of my music I felt I was not famous enough to put it out yet.  And with that came more excuses.  So, "Fake Sunsets" is been finished for about 5 years and it is finally out.  But to conclude this answer, it was my mom.  She thought my name Cam Carter sounded like a cool Nascar driver so I wanted to honor this name and make it stamped into history and start to write my own legacy.  I want to be the artist that instills hope and make people feel, this is really good, but "Hey, I can do this too."

ITs cross genre in a sense of west coast hip hop and southern trap.  RAYK44TREY produced this song and graced the song with the layers in his voice.  I would say this is traditonal west coast hip hop with a modern spin on pop.

I have been able to find my voice locked in a pocket of a place that was always there.  I can call upon certain sounds or feelings in my life and tap into those and create sounds of exactly how I felt the moment I wrote the song.  Some songs are more difficult to do that with than others.  My sound has found more of a consistent dynamic that seperates me from the ocean of other talent.  And my natural accent and word choice I believe has the ability to relate to many different facets of people.

Love conquers all things.  My theme is to drag the summer of love (1969) and drag it through 90s hiphop with modern Memphis 808s.

Lil Wayne because he would know what I am as I am.  An only a select amount of artists would be able to see the growth potential before it happens.  Also I believe he is the GOAT.  And I have been compared to him in magazines being dubbed as the White Wayne.  I thought that was clever due to our unqiue things in common, not to mention the fact his son shares my name but with a 'K'.  Im not much for gimmicks but that's one I'd embrace if it took off and did it's thing.

It’s like a poem set to a record. You’re into poetry, right? Imagine if this were a film—but you’re blind. So instead of watching it, you’re feeling it. The visuals don’t matter; it’s all about the mood, the rhythm, the atmosphere.

Cam Carter’s music is a raw blend of storytelling and soul — a mix of Wayne, Johnny, and Memphis stirred into a bowl with a splash of rock, blues, and folk, served with a side of 808s and heavy trap. He doesn’t follow formulas; he follows feeling. If he’s hurting, you’ll hear it. If he’s flying high, the song will lift you too. Whether it’s heartbreak, hope, rage, or redemption, Carter’s music lives in the moment — unapologetically honest and rooted in whatever emotion he's living through.

I’d 100% go to an original Beatles concert. The whole scene—peace signs, flower crowns, and barefoot hippie girls dancing in slow motion—would feel like stepping into a lucid dream. With those vibes floating through the air, I’d be younger than my own imaginary kids, bending time like a vinyl record in reverse, just to soak up that kind of magic.

"Beautiful Scars" is hands down my favorite song I have ever made because it has saved a few lifes and nothing is more powerful than a song that inspires someone away from being suicidal.  And if I can take my life and put it into a song and create hope inside someones heart, then thats where I want to be with my music.  I want my songs to matter and play an impact into people's lives instead of just gather dust in the back of someones mind.

James Taylor. 2Pac. Aurora.

I don't think I need an explanation for the reason why for those three.

My dream performance would be less of a concert and more of an experience — a gritty, immersive journey through emotion, story, and sound. Picture this:

A wide open outdoor setting, maybe in the desert or deep in the South — somewhere with real dirt, real air, real soul. The stage is raw wood and rusted steel, lit by fire pits, lanterns, and hanging Edison bulbs. No overproduced glitz — just honest energy, like a revival meeting meets outlaw gathering.

The band? A mix of old-school pickers and trap producers. Slide guitar and fiddle sit right next to 808s and synth pads, all locked into one powerful, cohesive sound. Live drums slam like thunder, but the heartbreak in the vocals still cuts through everything.

He opens with something stripped and vulnerable — maybe just voice and guitar — to pull everyone into the story. Then, as the show builds, the emotion shifts like chapters in a movie: the bluesy lows, the country grit, the gospel highs, and the trap-infused anthems that make the whole crowd bounce and sing like a choir.

Visuals? Think dust, smoke, slow-motion footage of real people — farmers, mothers, convicts, kids — projected behind him as he sings about lives that often get overlooked. It’s not just music; it’s a moment of truth and shared feeling.

By the end, it’s not about applause — it’s about silence, impact, and people walking away changed or cracked open just a little bit.

Lil Wayne.

Stip Club in El Salvador.

It depends on which song they are listening to.

Timeless.  Lyrical.  Therapeudic. 

Honestly, I’m not sure I have a favorite way to share my music — it’s more about how people find it. One of the most powerful moments for me was during the pandemic, driving through a neighborhood and hearing my own song drifting out of a stranger’s home. I literally had to stop the car and take it in. That hit different. It reminded me that the real magic isn’t in the sharing — it’s in the discovering. When someone connects with my music organically, on their own terms, in their own space — that’s the part that means the most to me. It’s not about blasting it out — it’s about it finding who it’s meant to find.

No.  I listen to my own songs over and over before they ever make it out and that acts as my rehearsal because by the time a song has been officially released I have heard it over a thousand times. 

Having production legends compare me to greats that don't even fully make sense to me yet.  I am not big on comparisons, however hearing it from those who have had the opportunity to work with me and the artist they mention, is very inspiring.

Success as an artist is being timeless.  Achieving timelessness is the highest peak of success in music because it carries and reflects the times.  And not many songs can say they have that ability. 

A goal without a plan is a wish.  So whatever plans I do have, its not to take the test, its to rewrite the class. 

An artist like Cam Carter is a mirror and a megaphone. He reflects what people are really going through — not the filtered version, but the raw, uncut truth. And he turns it up loud enough so even the quietest pain or the deepest joy gets heard. In a world where people feel overlooked, lied to, or numbed out, artists like Cam bring emotion back into focus. He tells the stories of the forgotten, the misunderstood, the ones grinding through life with scars and dreams.

Great songwriters? They’re the ones who give language to what the soul can’t say out loud. They write what you feel before you even know you’re feeling it. Their role is sacred — part historian, part healer, part rebel. They reach into the dark and pull out something glowing.

That light shines in the spaces where people are hurting, where they feel alone, where hope feels distant. But it also shines in the moments where love breaks through, where someone hears a line and says, “Damn, that’s me.” That’s the power. That’s the responsibility. And that’s the reason artists like Cam Carter don’t just make music — they make meaning.

Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” represents success to me because it’s the perfect example of music that doesn’t just entertain — it enlightens. It was soulful, beautiful, and smooth, but underneath, it was bold as hell. He used his voice not just to sing, but to stand for something, to question a broken world with love instead of hate.

That’s the kind of success I want — not just numbers, charts, or fame, but the ability to create something timeless, something that speaks truth when it's uncomfortable, something that brings people together instead of tearing them apart. Marvin didn’t ask for permission. He made art that mattered, that still echoes today. That’s success to me: music with a heartbeat, a purpose, and the guts to say something real.

Seeing artists that I have collaborated with die before they reach their growth potential.

When I came back to California, I was in the studio for about a week.  I was with a few locally famous latino artists and their weed was so strong I could'nt even rap.  Hell I couldn't stay awake to even hear a beat.  That shit had me like in a matrix watching myself not be able to do anything.  And it did frustrate me, but also show me that there is a time and place for everything and maybe I wasn't destined to make those songs. 

I’d change the gatekeepers in this industry — the ones who couldn’t make it themselves, so they set up shop teaching others how to. As you start to grow and surpass your peers or even those who came before you, you run into these massive, invisible walls — blocks of ice you have to break through just to reach the next level.

A lot of so-called experts in the business are really failed artists turned middlemen, and when they see you doing something they never could, envy kicks in. That jealousy, mixed with their need to make money, breeds lies and manipulation. You end up paying the wrong people — people who promise results, run a few bots, and disappear. It becomes a loop of scams and wasted time.

That’s what I want to change. Death to the middleman. I don’t want a music broker deciding whether or not I succeed. The power belongs with the artist — with the ones creating the art, not the ones cashing checks off it.

I’ve worn a lot of hats over the years — from modeling for JC to working as a sushi chef, construction laborer, and bouncer. I’ve been a junior generator technician, shoe salesman, social media manager, warehouse manager, and line cook. I’ve also handled roles like account manager for an NBA team, insurance salesman, and sales manager across several businesses. Each job taught me something different and shaped who I am today.

Absolutely, especially being a construction worker or a chef because you are actually "creating" something tangible to make people gawk and take pictures.

YEs it has.  I counteract it with writing lonely songs.  

Seeing God in everything and appreciating that omnipotence.  The creator of all things took time to detail so many beautiful things in life and that vastness of art is incredible.

Forrest Gump.  That story is really special even though a lot of it was changed by Hollywood.  It will forever be my favorite movie and it captured the times in a unique way and it also is considered one of the top motion pictures of all time. 

Poetry and Music. Hands down.

Paul Mccartney, Johnny Cash, Lil Wayne.

Sometimes your dreams are a job somewhere else.

Yes.  People that love you won't live forever.  The music you create will absolutely out live the artists.  That alone creates a sense of urgency with me.

To receive my flowers while I am still alive.