Back in November 2010, Glide Magazine’s Peter Zimmerman had the distinct pleasure of interviewing singer-songwriter Paula Cole. At that time, she had just released her most recent album Ithaca (Decca Records) and was on tour to support the work. We caught her show at San Francisco’s jazz club Yoshi’s (read the review here), and then spoke with her at length about the breadth of her career and reflections about this part of her professional and artistic path. Her candid responses, rife with humility, grace and introspection fostered an engaging and unaffected conversation, and ultimately resulted in quite a compelling discussion.
Cole’s career in pop music has enjoyed its fair share of successes and obstacles; however, what remains in 2011 is an artist fully devoted to her craft, ready to create work that is artistically bold, aesthetically dynamic and inextricably tied to her journey. Still, her extended hiatus between 1999’s Amen and 2007’s Courage continues to have definite ramifications, as Cole is venturing forth to regain those who drifted away or were frustrated with the lengthy delay. For an artist who commanded massive audiences in the late 90’s, performing either solo, on television or during the wildly popular Lilith Fair tour, playing jazz clubs and smaller theaters now is a major shift. Rather than be dismayed and resentful, though, Paula Cole’s heart remains true to her vision and her belief that by making and performing sincere work of high integrity she will continue to be successful.
Our conversation runs the gamut between philosophy, musical influences, musings about record companies and the industry, relationships and Cole’s broad oeuvre. One thing to mention in particular is that following Amen’s release at the end of the 90’s, Cole went into the studio with Hugh Padgham and recorded an entire album of material that was never released. Many call it the “Lost” album, and there’s been wild speculation about that work. Cole bravely discusses that struggle in our talk, demonstrating a calm poise that has come from years of working within and outside the system, but always returning back to what is most compelling: the music.
I’ve read a lot in the press about your writing process and your personal journey over the last few years. You talk a lot about Odysseus and his ten-year long journey of coming home as a parallel. I’m interested in hearing your perspective on this journey and its evolution, now that Ithaca has been out for about a month.
I’m asking myself so many questions now that it’s out–how is it? How am I? And it’s hard with a release. You get your expectations and hopes up. And I think–it’s out now–and I’m a little depressed (laughs). It’s a postpartum thing, you know? It’s out and I think I need to go home and start writing again. I have shows and I’ll continue to be touring and that’s all fine, but I think I need to start collecting myself already, now.
I want the process to go faster. In the past, it would be at least two to three years between albums; and I want that pace to pick up. Especially because I don’t know if record companies are going to hang in there. I don’t know if I’ll hang in there in a record company, and if so, I want to do my own thing, and if that means I do it independently, so be it. And that probably means I could do it more quickly, so I was just coming to the realization today that I want to start thinking about a next album.
You’ve done a lot of producing on this record, so you’re certainly getting back into that seat of having a lot of control, over the sound especially. And you also really stress the physicality of the CD (and vinyl), which I’m interested in, because it is an art project in itself too. How do record companies fit into that, in your mind, now?
Yesterday, before we preformed at Yoshi’s, we preformed at this–I don’t know what you’d call it–it’s called Wolfgang’s Vault, and when we took the elevator up and the elevator doors opened and we stepped out, we were surrounded by stacks and stacks of vintage vinyl. And it had the most glowing effect– even though printing vinyl is a little bit environmentally unfriendly, unfortunately. It had the most tremendous effect on my band members and I. We wanted to go over and touch the albums, we longed to hold something in our hands, it made us giddy. And you know, it just fucking sounds better. And when you have dynamic music, which my music is, it enhances that. The reality is that I download, I buy from iTunes, it’s so convenient. We are a time-saving society; it works. But I don’t want to lose that physical experience of holding something in my hand and reading the credits. I feel lucky that I’m from the tail end of that. I mean, Generation X, where we still went out and bought 45s of singles that I liked.
There is definitely something to be said about coming home and experiencing a whole album– listening to the way it ebbs and flows with the artwork and liner notes in hand. I think you hear that approach a lot on Ithaca. It seems you spent a lot of time thinking about that.
Yeah, and it’s certainly bizarre for me to have it go out into the ether. I know that most of my friends who are musicians who I have this conversation with, feel a little depressed about the way the music business has gone. We long for something physical. So, I guess the closest we can get to that is to congregate live with people who enjoy live music. That’s something that can’t be digitized and just purchased with a credit card. It’s real sound waves hitting your body and it’s irreplaceable. So, I don’t know. I’m here, and I’m so confused by the music business. I don’t know where it’s going; it’s changing dramatically.
All I know is that I need to do what I do, because I am a specialist and I’ve spent my life, my whole adulthood. I have no other skills, save poor waitressing skills (laughs)–I worked at a bakery once; I could probably go back to school, but I wouldn’t be as happy as I am in music. I’ve considered going back to school, but I want to continue making music and I will continue doing it, because I love it. How I make a living at it and how I am able to place the music in the world–the din of the world– so that I’m heard, is another matter.
In music today, you have to have a multitude of “voices” now to be heard, and I’m intrigued by your desire to continue making records, but I also want to talk about the physicality of your voice. You have a wide range of ability vocally, from guttural growls to soaring high notes and beautiful falsettos. How do you keep that in shape?
You caught me in this kind of melancholy space today, so I don’t mean to come off kind of sad, but actually, I am kind of sad about the music business and I don’t know where my future in it lies. I just know that I have to make music or I’m not my whole self.
In the classical world, singers are in their prime between 35 and 60. Voices open up, there’s something that happens. And I do feel like my voice, just physiologically, is in a better place.
Mostly, though, it’s how you live that helps your voice, like not smoking. Look at some of the greatest singers of all time, like Dionne Warwick and Joni Mitchell, and what happened to their voices from smoking. So that, and I did do some smoking of some substances in my 20’s, but now, that just can’t happen. I care too much about my health and my body, my voice and, well, I’m also a mother. Living well, living cleanly, drinking a lot of water, not talking too much–believe it or not, talking is really hard on the voice, so not being in loud environments where you have to talk over. Some warm-ups, but mostly it’s like lifestyle stuff. That’s how you preserve your voice.
Your approach is very holistic, rather than simply mechanical. But you do have to take care of it, especially because everything is interconnected.
You do. It’s like this soft, fleshy pink thing…(laughs)…right? A larynx. It’s everything. And the way I think of it too, it employs my friends– it employs my fellas. I need to take good care of it so we all have a gig.
What type of music do you listen to when you’re on the road, when you’re writing or in your free time?
When I’m in a writing head, I really don’t listen to much, unless I feel really inclined. If I have a specific thought on my brain and I just really need to go check it out, there’s usually a reason for that. For example, Kurt Cobain’s “Come” from his early Nirvana days–I just felt compelled to listen to that song and I was playing it on the piano and I was in that very simplistic chord progression, but loving it. And then I kind of let go of his song and it transformed into a whole other place and “Elegy” was born out of sharing a depressed head space. Sharing a depressed head space with Kurt kind of gave birth to another song. So, sometimes I think I instinctively seek out music that will springboard me or help. And then I need to talk breaks from listening so I can kind of go hibernate inside.
And sometimes I don’t want to listen to Western music at all and I just listen to African music. I really love West African music. I’m healed by going to a different culture, because I’m just so sick of…I don’t know…Pop. You know?
So, sometimes I’ll listen to Maria Callas or… gosh, it’s so diverse what I love to listen to. Dolly Parton–hell, even John fucking Denver sometimes, because he had this tenor voice and he was this positive freaking hippie. And I kind of dig it, you know? God, or Neil Young or Joni Mitchell or Miles Davis, Coltrane, and Billie Holiday and Peggy Lee. I need to go to other stylistic and different places, because it kind of fields me.
You bring up Dolly Parton as a major influence often, and the other night you closed your show with “Jolene,” during which you beatboxed. What a breathtaking (and in many ways unexpected) end to that performance.
I’ve been doing that–we’ve been covering Jolene since about 1994. It’s just been this staple of my set, because hardcore fans that come back ten or twenty times expect it and they love it. It’s a part of me– Dolly Parton is a part of me. I just love her. She’s so smart and funny– she’s nobody’s fool. Her songs really kill me, just how vulnerable they are. For example, “The Bargain Store” was banned by radio in America when it was released as a single back in the day, because it was deemed too sexual for a woman to sing about that stuff. She’s been a mind-opener and an eye-opener for me. I love her and I love acknowledging her.
Back in the 90’s, I had an angrier spin on “Jolene.” Now we’re hearkening back to the sweetness of the song. And then I’ve always beatboxed at the end of it, because back in the 80’s, I heard The Fat Boys and there was this guy, the Human Beatbox, and there were really very few people beatboxing at the time and the Human Beatbox came out with his thing. And, wow, I would just walk along the streets of Boston–I was a student at the Berklee College of Music–and I would practice beatboxing. And then over the years–here I am with a microphone, singing, and hearing how good it sounds with the mic. And I’m not prodigious the way some people are–oh my god, some are just unbelievable–but I have a good ear in a groove, so I can just lay something simple down. And it’s just fun. It’s a crowd pleaser. (laughs)
After you released and promoted 1999’s Amen, you went into the studio to record a follow-up, which was ostensibly shelved by your record company. What happened to those songs?
I recorded a full album’s worth of material with Hugh Padgham– we were co-producing it together. This was in 2001 and 2002 that we recorded. I made a full album and it was recorded at Royal’s Home Studio and it had a great drum sound. Jay Bellerose, my drummer of many, many years, who’s now been on the Raising Sand album with Robert Plant and Alison Krauss and also toured and worked with Ray LaMontagne. He and I grew up musically, so he was a major part of my record. As was Greg Leisz, who’s also in Ray LaMontagne’s band. A lot of Ray’s band used to be my band. Greg Leisz, Kevin Barry, and Mark Brown on bass, and me on piano.
We did about 12 songs, recorded live with a wonderful room sound. Hugh Padgham got the fucking ballsiest drum sound and I was so proud of this album and the way it was shaping up and then I submitted it. Actually, “Something I Gotta Say” and “Sex” (now on Ithaca) were part of that album. I rescued those two songs from obscurity and brought them out now, because I believed in them. All the other songs are new on Ithaca, but those were part of that era, along with others. But it was rocking– really progressive and artistic.
So, I submitted it and then there was just no communication. I waited days, weeks, months. Nothing. I wanted to communicate with somebody and I don’t know why there was nothing. Maybe they didn’t like it and no one was telling me, but it felt dysfunctional at best. So, then, that’s when they did the “little girl” routine. Patting me on the cheek and saying “now, if you get a producer and someone to produce you, then we’ll give you a budget for half an album.” I met Don Was– he was so awesome and he basically said to me, “These songs are brilliant. You don’t need to change anything.” And maybe it was a mistake, but he didn’t want me to write anything new– he thought the songs were great.
We re-recorded six of the songs and we again submitted them to Warner Bros. I loved working with Don; he was a shaman in my life. He kind of tipped me to the fact that people can lose the best of their years being stuck at a label. He kind of helped me see that maybe being off and being let go was actually a good thing. They weren’t happy that we re-recorded those same six songs. Again, there was no communication.
And it was the vernal equinox of 2003–I remember because I’d just gotten my certification for being a Kundalini yoga teacher and the vernal equinox is a big deal with the Sikh community. And I remember the vernal equinox was ushering in this thought, this epiphany for me that “don’t be afraid. Just let go. This is not working.” So, you have the dream of being on a major label deal, blah blah blah, and I just realized that this is not working. I thought “I can’t be afraid” and I’m just gonna ask for a separation.
So I asked for a separation and they were more than happy to let me go. I think they wanted to drop me anyway, so in their mind they dropped me and in mine, I left. It was mutual– we parted ways. Then I was label-homeless for awhile. I think I was really sad– I’m not a self-promoter or a shmoozer. I suck at it. I’m a hermit. So, I’m not ever going to be the one working the room. I’m not ever going to be the one making phone calls. I’m just terrible at that aspect of things. I basically went and hid under a rock and got kind of depressed. I was a mom anyway, so nothing was happening for those years. And that’s when Bobby Colomby kind of came in. I had sung on a jazz album for him years ago that he was producing– I had done him a favor. And I think, he kind of out of the blue shot me an email and asked how I was and when he found out that I wasn’t doing anything, he wanted to help me out.
I know that some of those songs from the “Lost” album have come out. “My Hero, Mr. President, “It’s My Life” and “Singing Out My Life”– aren’t they part of that album that you recorded for Warner Bros. that never got released?
That’s interesting. “Mr. President” was just a silly little thing that I just threw off onto the internet, and I had totally forgotten about it. I probably can’t even find the demo, I’ve moved so many times (laughs). Let’s see. I recorded “Singing Out My Life” with Hugh Padgham– I thought it was such a ballsy track. I loved that, and always thought that’d be great live. And “It’s My Life.” Well, that got released as part of a corporate release. See, sometimes these corporate things keep you alive. Ford Mercury asked me to write a song, and they were really cool about it;. They were much cooler than any record company! Although Decca’s pretty wonderful; I have to say that Decca has been the exception (Decca is Paula Cole’s current label). But they [Ford Mercury] asked me to write a song, so I did. And it was pretty artistic what they did with it–so I guess there were little moments that were out.
Does Warner Bros. own the masters to all those songs?
They own the masters to those particular recordings. They own the recordings, but I can re-record them.
You have a very rich catalog of B-sides and rarities, songs like “Billy Joe,” “Ring Finger” and “Zinnias and Dahlias” from this era. How do you conceptualize of these songs? How do you make the decision of what goes on the album? Are those songs still part of your world?
I wish I could have made about seven albums now. I wish I were about seven or eight albums deep in my career, but you know, life happens (laughs). And gosh, I guess certain ones fall by the wayside emotionally for me–to the point where I don’t even think of them. I just plain forget. The song “Night,” actually, is one I really love, though, and I still sometimes perform it live. It still feels really relevant to me emotionally.
I’ve had a couple of my songs covered now, like Herbie Hancock and Annie Lennox covered “Hush, Hush, Hush” on the Possibilities album. That was my first cover and then I’ve had a couple, like Katharine McPhee covered “Me” and a song called “Unbroken”. But I’m a writer, so yeah, I guess I keep amassing songs and unfortunately, I don’t feel like I have enough outlets for them. My collected B-sides are just demos, in storage, waiting for me because I move too much. I’d better get my shit together and start cataloging! (laughs)
During my hiatus, I felt like I’ve had all these songs kicking around and it was frustrating to not have the outlet, so I just put one up here and there. Because I needed to– I needed to connect. I probably should have done it more, and like I said at the beginning of this interview, I’d like this process to speed up so it’s not such a long time between albums and it can feel more organic.
With you, there’s a definite feeling that this part of your career isn’t a sort of “Greatest Hits” run around, that this is a progression. You spoke about that a lot last night in concert, of almost having two different careers. That seems a pretty healthy way of thinking about it. It’s refreshing to hear that a lot has happened– that you’re not trying to be the 90’s Paula Cole, and that you have a very present concept of your career.
I do. Granted, I don’t have the numbers and the fan base to just coast and just play hits anyway. That’s just too damn uncomfortable out here on the road. I’m doing it because it’s my truth. I do have something to say and I need this. I need this, so yes, it is another chapter, another set of musical compositions and expressions. Different times, different audience sizes, and that’s okay. It just is what it is right now. No, I’m not coasting. I want to keep moving ahead.
Paula Cole is on the road for a few dates this summer, but you can find her frequently updating her new blog, The Middle Lane, at http://themiddlelane.net/ For for information, please visit Paula online at www.paulacole.com or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/paulacolemusic
