Romanian-born, Vancouver-bred Stefana Fratila is only 23 years old and probably more accomplished than you.

She is a folk-pop musician turned electronic producer, a political-science student working toward her master’s degree, and a feminist artist with a mind as uniquely bright as her red lipstick and matching ladybug earrings. And yet Fratila sees herself as something of an outsider in Vancouver’s music scene, even though she has just released one of the most compelling local records of the year.

“The very weirdness of existing as a young woman in this society makes me make weird music,” says Fratila of Efemera, her third album and first output as a solo electronic artist. “When I listen to this record, it sounds like the most bizarre electronic music to me. Some of the songs are written in two time signatures at once and overlaid so that they rotate in timing.”

When the Georgia Straight meets Fratila for coffee in the down­town core of Vancouver, she is straightforward in critiquing what she sees as the city’s complacent conformity. She recognizes facets of this mindset reflected in the music community. “There is a growing industry interest in girls with dyed hair and all that,” says Fratila, gesturing to her elfin pink baby bangs and taking a sip of her London Fog.

“And I feel supported in Vancouver,” she adds. “But I also feel outcasted in that now I’m interested in changing spaces where people perform into political spaces. In Vancouver, to find an interest in political discussion is seen as out of place, whereas in most big cities in the world, that is not the case.”

Efemera’s controlled chaos of sounds and moods is playfully prismatic. But the feeling of dread that the twitchy, metallic rhythms and sirenlike melodies induce is deeply unnerving. And a song like “Nero”, along with its accompanying video, is not mysterious in its message.

With the producer acting as interrogator to the Roman emperor’s ghost, “Nero” is not only a fascinating track but a haunting meditation on skewed history and gender-based violence. Describing herself as possessed by the ideas of memory and identity, Fratila admits that her own experiences with discrimination have affected her art.

“I have noticed that when a trendy show is booked in Vancouver, they are basically always white artists and mostly male,” she explains. “I take it very personally. Because I know they know female artists, queer artists, and people of colour making great music in this city, and yet they aren’t booking them.”

While praising the efforts of inclusive local organizations like Shout Back! Festival and the Safe Amp Society, Fratila recognizes that not everyone is an artist because they want to stir the putrid pot of corruption and throw a wrench or two in the system. But she is hyperaware of the special influence that the stage grants her and her fellow musicians.

This sense of responsibility to speak out may have been shaped by Fratila’s family history, rooted in Communist Romania. Fratila was born in Sibiu, known as the City of Eyes due to a series of old houses with windows that look uncannily like eyes peering at you. Rumour has it they were built to instill the fear of always being watched into the population. But Fratila finds them comforting.

For Efemera, the producer was inspired by her homeland’s political and cultural history. Traditional Romanian music has been a major influence on her own, along with Bollywood film music of the ’60s and ’70s. The latter has an unexpected but crucial connection to the Romanian people. While under the boot of Communism, Romanians were not allowed any western media, so Bollywood cinema and music became huge hits with the public instead—including Fratila’s grandparents.

Evoking this odd cultural fusion in some of Efemera’s beats and melodies, Fratila has managed to honour her past through her music, while staying true to the contemporary artists that inspired her to begin songwriting. Belle & Sebastian, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, TLC, the Pixies, and Missy Elliot all had a hand in the formation of her eclectic musical identity. And now it’s an identity she treasures wholeheartedly.

“I never thought I would be a singer,” says the performer. “Now I have no stage fright. Performing music that is meaningful to you for an audience is a beautiful privilege to be enjoyed. I don’t make music for fun. It’s a way for me to remain sane. But music gives me so much joy and life, too. That’s why I can’t stop.”