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Anoche Alison Moyet cantó en Bush Hall en Londres, presentando temas de su nuevo discos y éxitos de antaño. También ayer apareció una entrevista suya en The Guardian, que hoy incluimos aquí en inglés acompañado de los videos de anoche cantando"WHEN I WAS YOUR GIRL" ("Cuando era tu chica"), "NOBODY'S DIARY" ("El diario de nadie") y "DON'T GO" ("No te vayas").
Last night Alison Moyet performed at Bus Hall in London, presenting some of her new songs and oldies. Another interview with her featured at yesterday's issue of The Guardian, which we're enclosing here together with a video from last night singing "WHEN I WAS YOUR GIRL", NOBODY'S DIARY" & "DON'T GO".
Alison Moyet: 'I smashed all my gold discs. There were hundreds'
The singer on her extreme decluttering session – and why everybody compares her to Adele
[Paul Lester. The Guardian 28/47/2013]
Hi, Alison. Where are you?
Brighton. I moved here last week. I lived in Radlett till last week.
Nice. Near Letchmore Heath.
Yeah. I remember seeing Poly Styrene at the Hari Krishna temple – the George Harrison one – which was weird because she was one of my childhood idols.
X-Ray Spex! Funny, because people think of you as a supperclubjazz singer, don't they?
I started off at 15 in punk bands and then I moved onto the Canvey Island scene when I played the pub rock circuit. When I did That Ol' Devil Called Love, it was quite a leftfield move.
So 20 years before Amy and Adele, it was considered radical to be into soul and jazz.
It was. Unfortunately, it became my biggest-selling single. I know nothing about jazz, so to be called a jazz singer for all that time …
Does it annoy you that young women still cite Billie Holiday as an influence?
In some ways it does. My generation had prog rock and punk and edgy folk. It's become so homogenised now. It's all about demographics. And vocals are all about acrobatics and mimicry.
Do you ever look at Adele and think: "That was me in 1985"?
When I saw Adele I thought: "I'll give it an hour before people say I was her," just because I was fat. When you watch X Factor you can bet your bottom dollar, every single fat singer sounds like me as far as the judges are concerned. Can you imagine if they did that with every black artist?
You're from Essex. What was Basildon like in the 70s?
A big council estate. It was fine but there was absolutely no culture. So everyone had to make their own entertainment. We'd set up gigs in car parks or fields. In my class at school there was Andy Fletcher and Martin Gore [of Depeche Mode] and Perry Bamonte of the Cure. And when I went to college the bass player from Talk Talk was there.
How wild were the gigs supporting Dr Feelgood with your various punk bands?
We'd get hammered. It was always me and a group of about eight blokes hanging round Canvey [Island]. There were times we'd be surrounded by skinheads, mods, Teds or "market boys", and I had to out-threaten them. You used to get your teeth kicked in in those days if you had the wrong cut of trouser or the wrong point of shoe. Once, I had to swing my microphone into a whole big circle of them, otherwise we wouldn't have got out alive.
Are you fluent in French?
No. I spoke Franglais growing up.
Does anyone call you Geneviève?
No. Can you imagine Geneviève Moyet in Basildon? Wouldn't work.
Are you handy around the house?
The first time my dad told me he was really proud of me was when I was in my late 30s and I rewired the Hoover. I can hang wallpaper, too.
Do you have a fancy Dyson?
I don't do fancy. You always think, when you get a bit of money the first thing you'll do is buy a big fuck-off house, but what you never account for is you'll never like shopping. So I did buy a big fuck-off house but never bought anything [to go in it].
So is your new house in Brighton clutter-free?
I dumped everything. Even my gold discs. I smashed the lot. I took a hammer to them. And I'm not being lairy, but there were hundreds. It was fucking brilliant. All my stage clothes – gone. I love it. And I burned all my diaries. I really don't want to own things. It just drags you down.
Didn't your kids want any of your stuff?
I don't care. What is the point? I've done them a real service. You die and they're left with boxes and boxes of shit that they are then forced to chuck away.
It's easier to keep a house clean, the less you have.
The thing with me is, I'm both untidy and I hate mess. But I'm not untidy in communal spaces, like living rooms. My bedroom is havoc.
What does that say about you?
I suspect I have ADHD.
Can you remember the day you met Vince Clarke?
I've known him since I was 11. They used to have this Saturday morning music school in Basildon and him and his two brothers went to it. They all played violins if I remember rightly, and with their white, white hair they looked like three little blond ducks. Later, he and [Andy] Fletcher were both God-botherers and they wore macs with a big sign on their backs saying "Jesus Saves" in five-inch letters. That was pretty brave, in Basildon, walking around like that. I've always admired iconoclasts.
Were you and Vince as Yazoo the weirdest of the synthpop duos?
We were certainly remarkable. We were such different characters. Vince had just experienced a break-up with Depeche and he was feeling sore and in a dark place. Me, I was a fighter and far too aggressive for him.
Did you get aggressive with each other?
No, you can't get aggressive with someone who doesn't want to get aggressive. He was passive-aggressive. I was just aggressive.
What was it like having a hit with your first single, Only You?
It went into the charts at number 157 and it was absolutely fantastic. To be in the top 200 – nothing was as thrilling as that.
Yazoo came up with a new paradigm: passionate vocals meets cool electronics.
It was never intended. Vince brought me the demo of Only You and that's how I sang it. We just did what we did, together.
Who was your hero at the time?
Elvis Costello. I met him once after one of his gigs. I was trying to be all urbane and not gush too much but what came out of my mouth was: "You dragged that out a bit, didn't you?" I haven't listened to him since. It hurt me so much. And I never accepted a music business invite again. It changed my professional-social outlook for 25 years. Because I didn't trust myself. I became agoraphobic. In Basildon I was this odd girl who everyone thought was a fighter and a drug addict – just dodgy – and I was used to that space around me. But I tried, and failed, at socialising.
What drugs?
Nothing A-class – the various drugs you do as a kid. Speed, smoke ...
But networking was a no-no after, what, 1984?
Yes. Until about 1994. I just used to hang out with old schoolfriends.
All triggered by the Costello incident?
Yeah.
And you hid in cupboards?
I didn't like it when people knocked on the door! I'd be indoors with all my clothes off, and all these kids outside. I'd be feeling really paranoid.
Did you go out at all?
I tried it once. I went out to dinner to this restaurant with some friends and this bloke saw me, stood up and shouted, "Oi, Alison Moyet! Sing us a song!" And then when I didn't: "You fucking stuck-up bitch! If the plumbing went, he'd have to fix it!" And then they started coming for us. This was the first time I'd left the house for five years, so that stopped me for another five. That's the trouble with being so recognisable. You see a fat girl and it's like, "It's Alison Moyet". I couldn't dress down – I had the sort of physicality people notice.
Not at all. But psychologically I'll always be a fat girl because that's what my character is built on. I always got a buzz out of people telling me I was ugly. I went out of my way to un-beautify myself. I didn't want anyone's approval.
Have you been offered much reality TV?
All of them. But I do not want to be a celebrity. It doesn't appeal to me at all.
Do you remember your last day with Vince, in 1983?
By then, the temperature between us was horrible. He'd go [into the studio] and work in the morning and I'd go in the afternoon.
Was it musical differences?
He wasn't ready to relinquish any of his control. To be fair, he was very open-handed. The only time we had a falling-out was over a song called Happy People. I said: "You want that singing, sing it yourself." He did, and he had a massive hit with it, in Poland! But it did get sticky. Because I am that French peasant and he was that reserved English person. He didn't get my volatility, and I didn't get his lack of heat.
Did you have to apologise to Vince before Yazoo reformed? (8)
No. I'd been quite straight in interviews. I said, if it hadn't been for Vince I would never have been in the position I am now, and that's a lot to thank someone for. I'm in my 50s and still singing for a living. And that's fucking amazing.
Video "WHEN i WAS YOUR GIRL", Alison Moyet @ Bush Hall, London (18/4/2013):
Video "NOBODY'S DIARY", Alison Moyet @ Bush Hall, London (18/4/2013):
Video "NOBODY'S DIARY", Alison Moyet @ Bush Hall, London (18/4/2013):
Video "DON'T GO", Alison Moyet @ Bush Hall, London (18/4/2013):
Crítica del concierto / Concert review:
THE time has never been better for the 80s icon to return.
Her first album in seven years, next month’s awkwardly-titled the minutes, is the closest Alison’s come to her roots in synthpop duo Yazoo, and she previewed it in full.
Alison’s hilarious introductions and the surprisingly cutting-edge tunes made her comeback a triumph, despite all those new songs in a row.
Hair flying as she danced, the Essex belter finished on four Yazoo hits, roaring the timeless Don’t Go with the same passion as 30 years ago.
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