Candace Hastings wrote her first song in fifth grade. It was a one-chord song, written on the ¾-size Kay guitar her mother bought her the Christmas after her father died. Her mother couldn’t afford it, but she knew that music heals.

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That guitar didn’t just give Candace a hobby; it gave her a companion. It kept her company through sweltering summers as a kid on the streets of Dallas. Time there stretched long and belonging wasn’t guaranteed, but Candace found where she belonged through songwriting. Spending time watching Candace Hastings play live is like finding a soft place to land, which happens to be the title of her upcoming album, Soft Place to Land, to be released in late spring 2026.

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Growing up adopted, Candace often felt like she was on the outside looking in, searching for her real identity by trying on different identities and studying the world from the edges. That distance became its own kind of training. It made her a sharp observer of others, and over time she developed a rare skill: capturing in words and music truths we all have in common, even if our stories are different.

 

Later in life, Candace reunited with her birth family and discovered that her mother and siblings are Potawatomi. The knowledge didn’t simplify her—it deepened her. Both cowgirl and Native, Candace walks in two worlds and builds bridges between them for her and for others, writing songs that connect disparate identities and communities.

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Candace’s style is best described as bricolage. She is the bricoleur, using whatever is at hand to make art. In her work, the song decides what it needs to be, whether it’s an Texas-style Irish waltz, a ’90s-country remnant, or an old-time swing tune, because the story, the feeling, the moment requires it. The magic is in the moment. A gesture, a glance, a truth that lands quietly and stays, like a soft place to land, which is the title of her upcoming album to be released in late spring 2026.

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Ultimately, Candace’s work keeps returning to the same horizon: home. She’s been looking for it all her life, and she’s finally almost there, both in understanding who she is and in the music she’s making. Her songs have a natural beauty forged from rough cuts: at times cowgirl, at times indigenous, and often both. And underneath it all is hope and home: a chord you can come back to, a soft place to land.