(Reproduced without permission.)
Julia Fordham is big in Japan, has a massive dyke following, and is possessed of a remarkable voice. She is also disconcertingly honest and surprisingly saucy, as a flustered Megan Radclyffe found out when then met for tea...
The first three album covers invariably portrayed her as vulnerable and slightly troubled: a waifish figure wrapped in thick red velvet, her back to the camera; as a darkly-clothed tom-boy crouched in a foetal position; or as a woman seemingly pained, eyes tightly shut, and her hands clutching her head.
But as soon as you put the disc onto your turntable, those images melt right away. Fordham's voice has a depth and range that is, to use a music journo's cliched vernacular, unique: once she's lavished her voice upon you, she throws in the odd bucket of ice cubes. It's a rich and powerful voice, unwavering and resilient, the perfect evocation of that favourite fantasy: Dip Me In Chocolate and Throw Me to the Lesbians.
Julia Fordham's eponymous debut album was released in the early summer of 1988. It skimmed the edge of the Top 20 and produced two minor hit singles, 'Happy Ever After' and 'Where Does The Time Go?", both anthems to lost chances. Her second album, Porcelain, climbed a little higher but did not yield any notable 45s. Her third, Swept, did not even scrape into the Top 30. After a three-year break a new, improved model Fordham has returned from America with a new album, Falling Forward. The cover of the album is startling enough for seasoned Fordham watchers - Julia is pictured running towards the camera, eyes wide open, laughing exuberantly. As for the contents, the press release claims it as "an extraordinarily accomplished body of work". But I wanted to know what the artist herself thought...
I arranged to meet up with her at the Cafe Pasta in Kensington. Julia arrived a few minutes late, wearing a long oatmeal-coloured jacket, baggy trousers and open-toed sandals. As she relaxed into the seat opposite me, I knocked my teapot flying. As she mopped up for me, I plunged right in. A friend had asked me to put one simple question to Julia. Why did her career die a death after the second album?
Without a trace of annoyance, she gently demurred: "It didn't die a death, but it did go on a downward curve. The first two sold exactly the same, even though Porcelain didn't have any hit singles - it just came out and happened. Swept is a bit more tricky because I'd actually got to a stage where the market place becomes passive towards you, and I didn't realise it. It's like, 'When, we've got the first two albums, now what?' I've been fortunate because my record company hasn't dropped me."
Her order of Caesar salad and a glass of fizzy water arrived. I continued to rue spilling my tea.
"So it didn't feel like it died a death," she continued. "More like it struggled on its arse a bit. Swept did fantastically in Japan! It might not have sold so well here but as a whole, I'm still treading water."
She then did the one thing that journalists hate - she turned the question back on me. Why did I think Swept had struggled? I quickly trotted out a quote from Sting about how the press and public always hate the third album so the fourth is seen as either a radical departure or a comeback.
"I had to make changes," she agreed, "like working with my producer Larry Klein and co-writing with Simon Climie..."
But he writes with everyone.
"That's what I told him! I was talking to my sister one day and said, 'I've got to do something different! I've got to break out of myself!' She said to me, 'Didn't you used to live next door to that guy who writes all those blooming songs with all those bloody people?' So I called him up."
In between forkfuls of salad and chunks of bread, she cited her move to Los Angeles in 1992 as another big influence on her change of direction.
"I feel as if I've overcome two obstacles: one, working with someone else and exposing yourself to them; and two, going to the States, leaving home. It might sound like nothing, but it was terribly grown up for me. I've been many times before but not going to live there, have an apartment and drive around."
I asked if she would be one of the many British talents who consider permanent migration.
"At some point, yes. I'll tell you one thing," she confided, leaning slightly across the table. "I could live without the winter!"
What would you miss?
"Chocolate Hob-nobs! Oh, and I guess the life, the culture. There's a lot of peculiarities with British people, they do have these idio-syncratic ways. I find Americans are more open, more interested in self-development. I'll only come to England when the sun is shining"
America seems to have rubbed off already: listening to Falling Forward, I noticed a few extra notes in Fordham's already enormous vocal range.
"That's because I practised!" she said through clenched teeth. "I got myself a microphone, tried some different reverbs and effects, and I practised! I think it's easy to get comfy and casual about what you're doing. I know I've got a naturally big range, but I wondered what would happen if I sang my pants off. I'm sure, sitting here talking to you, that it may sound like a stupid, insignificant thing, but to me it was a really big step."
I just wanted to know whether it hurt... Her reply was a warm and rich laugh. I remarked that I'd seen her on the debut TV show of Sun columnist, Richard Littlejohn.
"Interesting show, eh?"
Did you see the 'debate' on lesbian mothers, then?
"No, I was doing my warm-up. As I came out I saw my manager looking aghast, mouthing 'You're not going to believe this!' and shaking her head. I came on to hear Michael Winner - who's not the most tactful or supportive chap himself - tell Littlejohn he was a complete arsehole! I wish I'd seen the whole bloody thing, but my video wasn't working..."
I suppose you have to promote your stuff, but why choose Littlejohn's show?
"That would be my plugger. I didn't even realise until that day that Littlejohn wrote for the Sun even. I'd never bought or read it in my life! I don't think I'd now say I wouldn't have done the show if I knew what it would be like; I probably would.
"If I'd seen the interview, I would have got all defensive and wanted to have spoken up for the lesbian mothers. I would have been affected - ranting and raving - although it might not have been sensible for me. It's my role to sing and sing well, but I'd have played it very differently if I'd been on the panel. Thank God I wasn't!"
Talking of lesbian-related trivia, I noticed there's a track on the new album called 'Caged Bird'. Did you nick the title from Maya Angelou's book?
"Exactly! Totally and utterly!"
And what about the line, "I know why the caged bird sings/(And it's not why you're thinking)"? Care to elucidate?
"I don't know what people are going to think. The caged bird is meant to be two of my girlie friends. They're both brilliant singers but nobody knows it but me. Sorry!" she paused, excusing herself for spitting a tiny bit of bread at me in her excitement. "So here they are, these wonderful singers, with voices no one's hearing. It's not just because I stole it from the book."
She stopped, looked at me quizzically and asked, "What other reasons were there?"
Well, you do have a massive lesbian following, and dykes love to read subtexts into everything. There were lots of rumours about you around the time the first album came out about the girlfriend in the studio...
She almost choked on her salad. "I'm fascinated! Tell me more about these stories!"
What, in detail?
"Yes!" she almost shouted. "Oh do tell, Megan! Do tell all!"
People said you had your lover in the studio and that the control desk was used for more than mixing the bass...
She screeched loudly, causing one or two heads to turn.
"That's not true," she chortled. "I used to share a flat with Lloyd Newson who runs DV8 [the 'physical theatre' company] and he said that a lot of his women friends, who are gay, related to a couple of songs on Porcelain which they felt had connotations, and that's why they assume I'm gay.
"I'm someone who can have really close relationships with people, and I do have really close women friends, but I have never had a lesbian experience."
So does it bother you that people think you might have?
"Absolutely not at all. Not even a bit. I never feel like I have to put the record straight and also I think I never want to say I'm heterosexual because, although fundamentally I am, I would not want to exclude anything that might happen as my life goes on. I've always felt quite at ease with my sexuality, I wouldn't want to bracket myself in any one way. I do think other people like to do that."
Especially lesbians...
"Exactly. I love this story about the studio, it's so funny! I mean, where the hell does something like that come from?"
Probably someone's dream, I offered, while she giggled wickedly.
So you're aware of the attention from dykes?
"Oh yes, absolutely," she replied. "I get a lot of letters, a lot of women after the gigs... I don't target an audience, absolutely not. I've never catered for anyone. I don't even think I've ever humoured anyone, not even the record company, or tried to pander or keep with anyone. I would never say, 'Oh what am I going to do now I've got a strong lesbian following?' I only take it as a positive thing. If people support me, I'm grateful, and it doesn't even cross my mind to think, 'Oh no!' Would you like some of this?" she asked, proffering a prong of salad.
I politely declined, citing a dislike of walnuts.
"There's no walnuts in this! What are we going to do with you, eh?"
I forebore to suggest anything, and instead questioned her about her Japanese following.
"Yes, it's weird, isn't it? I thought it was because 'Happy Ever After' was number one forever there. It was in a TV soap opera - an unlikely concept - and so right from the very beginning, all the albums have been very successful, but I didn't really know why. I asked this woman journalist, why is it? She said, 'Julia Fordham have skin like porcelain and intelligent eyes...... Nothing to do with the voice, then? "No, that too! They know every word, every part of my voice. It's extraordinary!"
Julia's PR woman arrived at that moment, to whisk her away for some radio work, voice-overs in Japanese to promote Falling Forward.
"Everything OK?" queried the PR. "Fine," replied Julia, nodding towards me. "She has probed. She came and she probed!"
I enquired if I could use that as the headline.
"Actually, 'She Came and She Probed' isn't perhaps the best title we should be running with," she laughed. "She's been telling me about my girlfriends! What else did they say?"
Nothing much, just something about backstage orgies.
"I've seen her dressing rooms," interjected the PR, "and the thought of anything happening in a room that small..."
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