FRIDAY JUNE 27, 2003
Last year, it was cautiously suggested that British singer/songwriter Sarah Jane Morris might prove the revelation of that
particular jazz festival. After her electrifying Club Soda concert with American guitarist Marc Ribot, that was confirmed. Those who saw her offer every little piece of her heart then will be back for her triumphant return with not one show, but two, at Soda tonight and tomorrow. And they will not be alone.
It has been a 'very good year' for the 1980's radical Communard and current diva of the European Union, Janis Joplin channeler with a 3½ octave range, fearless interpreter of material by Cohen, Cave and Curtis Mayfield, and, on her fine new album Love and Pain, a singer-songwriter of no little distinction.
During a recent phone conversation from her family retreat outside Stratford-upon-Avon, she charmed the birds from the trees with candid, passionate observations about life, work, art, the nuclear unit, political madness and her ongoing cottage industry conquest of the entertainment world. The new album is a complete writing/performing/production collaboration with
Martyn Barker and Calum MacColl, of the famed musical MacColl clan (pace Kirsty), and is the first tangible evidence that Morris has not only broken free from a decadeslong pattern of serial bad management but in her words 'taken it to the next level'.
'When we last spoke, I had finally taken control of my own career. I told you I would never be managed again. But what happened was, at the end of last year, I suddenly realised - 'God, I don't have a life anymore do I?'
As fantastic as it is the have control of everything, 1 never got to see my child (Otis), my husband (ex-Pogue David Coulter) or friends (numerous). 1 was making myself ill.' Martyn happened to play the demos of Love and Pain for Pete Jenner, who is Billy
Bragg's manager. Now Billy and I go way back the Red Wedge days (an '80's movement of art and leftist politics). Pete heard the tapes, rang me up and said, 'These are great songs. 1 know you've done well getting to this level but I actually think you're going to need some help.' 'I said that I was reluctant to take on management after such a bad history, so 'Why don't we do it like I'm
still managing myself?' He basically negotiates for me. He hasn't taken over my career. He does what 1 ask him to do and no more. 'I think he quite likes that, too. It's a grown up approach. I don't ask him to wipe my arse or book my tickets, or do anything other than contracts and advice. So it's management without feeling like I've lost control.'
Morris still licks stamps and sends out bios - it's how she landed her gig here last year. But she's also selling out weeks of concerts in her greatest fan base, Italy and still puts a lock on the legendary Ronnie Scott's jazz club in London where she settles in for her annual run: and has just been photographed for the cover of the European edition of Rolling Stone.
So it's entirely natural that she would interrupt a phone call to embrace her son, whom she has not seen in four days - the result
of a disastrous Paris promo tour during a general strike - and who is over the moon about receiving his Beano club membership
(Beano is a British comic). And she still insists on meeting her fans after her show after giving every little piece of her heart onstage. It is all part of the Sarah-Jane Morris charm. And it feels like the real thing.
Last year, it was cautiously suggested that British singer/songwriter Sarah Jane Morris might prove the revelation of that
particular jazz festival. After her electrifying Club Soda concert with American guitarist Marc Ribot, that was confirmed. Those who saw her offer every little piece of her heart then will be back for her triumphant return with not one show, but two, at Soda tonight and tomorrow. And they will not be alone.
It has been a 'very good year' for the 1980's radical Communard and current diva of the European Union, Janis Joplin channeler with a 3½ octave range, fearless interpreter of material by Cohen, Cave and Curtis Mayfield, and, on her fine new album Love and Pain, a singer-songwriter of no little distinction.
During a recent phone conversation from her family retreat outside Stratford-upon-Avon, she charmed the birds from the trees with candid, passionate observations about life, work, art, the nuclear unit, political madness and her ongoing cottage industry conquest of the entertainment world. The new album is a complete writing/performing/production collaboration with
Martyn Barker and Calum MacColl, of the famed musical MacColl clan (pace Kirsty), and is the first tangible evidence that Morris has not only broken free from a decadeslong pattern of serial bad management but in her words 'taken it to the next level'.
'When we last spoke, I had finally taken control of my own career. I told you I would never be managed again. But what happened was, at the end of last year, I suddenly realised - 'God, I don't have a life anymore do I?'
As fantastic as it is the have control of everything, 1 never got to see my child (Otis), my husband (ex-Pogue David Coulter) or friends (numerous). 1 was making myself ill.' Martyn happened to play the demos of Love and Pain for Pete Jenner, who is Billy
Bragg's manager. Now Billy and I go way back the Red Wedge days (an '80's movement of art and leftist politics). Pete heard the tapes, rang me up and said, 'These are great songs. 1 know you've done well getting to this level but I actually think you're going to need some help.' 'I said that I was reluctant to take on management after such a bad history, so 'Why don't we do it like I'm
still managing myself?' He basically negotiates for me. He hasn't taken over my career. He does what 1 ask him to do and no more. 'I think he quite likes that, too. It's a grown up approach. I don't ask him to wipe my arse or book my tickets, or do anything other than contracts and advice. So it's management without feeling like I've lost control.'
Morris still licks stamps and sends out bios - it's how she landed her gig here last year. But she's also selling out weeks of concerts in her greatest fan base, Italy and still puts a lock on the legendary Ronnie Scott's jazz club in London where she settles in for her annual run: and has just been photographed for the cover of the European edition of Rolling Stone.
So it's entirely natural that she would interrupt a phone call to embrace her son, whom she has not seen in four days - the result
of a disastrous Paris promo tour during a general strike - and who is over the moon about receiving his Beano club membership
(Beano is a British comic). And she still insists on meeting her fans after her show after giving every little piece of her heart onstage. It is all part of the Sarah-Jane Morris charm. And it feels like the real thing.