Tracy Chapman, the epitome of the classic modern singer/songwriter, talks to Tony Clayton-Lea about finding the right balance between happiness and career success
Tracy Chapman has a lot to thank Stevie Wonder for; if it wasn't for the fact that he was discommoded in the lead-up to the globally screened 70th birthday concert for Nelson Mandela at London's Wembley Stadium in 1988, it is quite possible that Chapman's career would have taken a completely different direction. But it didn't, and because of her extended set on the night in question, sales of her eponymous début album passed the three million mark within weeks. With immediate sales figures came instant fame, but for Chapman it was more a classic no-omelettes-without-breaking-eggs scenario than the embracing of a much-desired need for column inches.
She is, perhaps, too, the epitome of the classic modern singer/songwriter: middle-class sensibilities frame sensitively spoken words not so much measured as s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d out in Zen-like pauses.
She is in a London hotel that you don't read about in travel magazines or guide books - "a lot of best-selling authors stay here," says the taxi-driver - and she's sipping a concoction of some kind to ward off a cold she is in danger of capitulating to. "It's a non-alcoholic toddy," she informs me.
Does she drink alcohol? "Yes, I do, but I don't get drunk."
Ah, then, maybe she's not such a classic modern singer/songwriter?
Like conversation, like work: Chapman releases albums at a slow rate, an average of one every three years. She is on record as saying she intensely dislikes the promotional process that comes with each release, and as the interview progresses, it's easy to understand her reluctance: she is not one for soundbites, sarcasm masquerading as wit, or the mechanics of self-promotion. Many musicians say this, but secretly love the attention and the way it sensually massages their egos. Chapman, however, genuinely means it: she sees a question coming and stares at it for ages, rolling it around in her head, wondering about the best way to answer it.
In many ways, her cogitative demeanour connects with the perception of her as being a severely self-analytical and political singer/ songwriter.
When she chooses to write a song, does she tend to delve deeply?
"I'm never sure what inspires the songs and what starts the process," she says. "But once it does start, there is a degree of self-analytical process that occurs, although sometimes there is a conscious effort not to do that. There are things we don't want to look at or see in ourselves! I sometimes find I've written something and I don't think it's about me at all, which is good because I have some distance from and perspective on it, because it's not my own experience. So, yes, it's both things - choosing to be superficial and to not try to delve into something. Other times it's being microscopic about it."
The common misconception, of course, is that many people think her songs are about her own life and times. She expects such misunderstandings, she says, her shoulders moving in a what-I-can-do-about-it shrug.
"My hope is that it doesn't interfere with their ability to appreciate the music on another level besides thinking that Tracy Chapman's life is miserable! It's better if people can interpret the songs and possibly feel some sense of connection. It bothers me a little bit, because I have to answer questions a lot of the time about why I'm so sad. I'm asked am I always depressed, and is my life really that bad? Do I have a sense of humour?
"I guess I could play on the whole thing and keep stony-faced and morbid, but it wouldn't be a nice thing to do. But yes, it's annoying on that level. It feels ridiculous to have to explain that there are many dimensions to my personality, but it goes with the territory."
But the public, through your records alone, does see you as being a sombre, sorrowful person.
"I have my moments of misery - I'm not trying to disown that. Oh, dear, I can see the headlines now!"
Now leading a radically different life from that when she was busking on the streets of Boston, Chapman says that, despite the changes, she always had a clear idea of what she wanted to do.
"Materially, it's changed significantly. I left school with lots of loans and debts, but because of the success of the first record I was able to take care of those things and my family."
Focused and temperate, her clarity of vision has occasionally been blurred by other people who didn't necessarily share her ambitions. Simply put, she says, her opinions on creative and business/industry matters were listened to but not considered.
"It's the nature of this business," she points out, "that for the most part the artists are really young; the people who run the business are not so young and they have lots of experience and lawyers and they hold all the cards. Even when you know what you want, there's so much to know and to do, and some of it you can only handle if you have experienced it before.
"What happens to most artists in this business is that even if you think someone will give you a straight answer, sometimes you don't even know what question to ask.
"This business is always changing. There's always a new scam or tactic or angle that someone will take to manipulate a situation to get what they want. I've just figured out ways to do things for myself and take a more active role in various aspects in my career. And to say no really firmly."
As well as becoming more proactive in her career, Chapman also had to deal with fame. Following the success of her début, she retreated, finding it "too much, too overwhelming - it changed a million things".
And now?
"I feel that I have a better balance over that part of my life being public in some ways and not in others."
Yet there are some things she would change and others she would approach differently, given another shot. Some things take time and effort, she implies. Developing as a musician is one of those, Chapman says, although she admits it's difficult to do so under the glare of the spotlight.
"If you're successful sometimes people don't even consider there should be time devoted to allow that kind of development to take place. If I could go back, I would attempt to carve out more space and time to be a better musician and a better songwriter. Take a course, or something!"
Let It Rain is on the Elektra label