As a child, Cortney Tidwell took refuge in a fantasy world and in British indie rock. That's why she's no traditional country singer, writes Tony Clayton-Lea
It really is the stuff of country music myth/legend/song: young girl born and raised in Nashville; her parents worked in the music industry - her father on Music Row, her mother (a Miss Nashville runner-up) a regular Grand Ole Opry performer, and a singer who enjoyed moderate success in the 1970s. The girl's grandfather, meanwhile, recorded for Decca in the 1950s, as well as founding the Chart record label. Her childhood memories include constant listening to the music of Johnny Cash and Hank Williams, sitting in the offices of the great and good of Nashville's music community as they regaled each other with stories, yarns and song lyrics. She also recalls that Townes Van Zandt was a friend of the family.
Those are the good memories. Cortney Tidwell also remembers the shouting, the screaming, the cowering in her bedroom for most of her childhood life. Her mother was diagnosed as manic depressive following the sharp decline of her music career, which eventually petered out completely. For more nights than Tidwell cares to recollect, her mother played "some of the saddest songs imaginable; I would awaken most nights to the sound of that piano - I hated it." As a result of her domestic troubles Tidwell decided to steer clear of music, but the magnetic pull proved too much to resist and, 20-odd years later, she is celebrating the release of her acclaimed debut album, Don't Let Stars Keep Us Tangled Up. Despite it being a product of Nashville, it is a record so far removed from traditional country music that it might as well have its own genre.
"I consciously rebelled against traditional country many years ago," says Tidwell from her Nashville base. "But I realised you can't ever get away from your background. As a child you don't have much choice as to what music your parents listen to, or what kind of situations they're going to put you in. So as a teenager I just started to choose not to listen to certain types of music and storm out of the room. What did I listen to? Top 40, of course, and then Depeche Mode, Joy Division, Britpop."
Respite from the pressure and chaos of a parent going off the rails came from Tidwell's grandmother, whose talent at relating fairytales set into motion the foundations for the singer's lyrical flights of fancy.
"The way I write is a strange process," she says. "Back in those days, everything was muddled; because of the yelling and violence in the household I always immersed myself in a dreamworld to try to escape reality. What inspires me to write now? Well, if I've had a hard day, it's a bonus. If things are going good - which they are at the moment - I'm not drawn to writing at all, unfortunately. If I've had a fight with someone, if tragedy occurs or during periods of adversity, then I'm liable to write my best material - so for me the better stuff comes from bad things. When I was a child it was quite rough and I never thought it would get better. When you're down, the only way is up, you know?"
When Tidwell's mother died in 1999, music was no longer viewed by her as a necessary evil but rather as a form of therapy. A career, however, was out of the question. "I thought I would never, ever consider it because music is what ultimately destroyed my mother." And yet here she is, the daughter of a woman whose life was devoted to desperately wanting to be a star.
"It's really interesting, because before my mother passed away she said in the hospital, on her deathbed, that I had to get a record contract - which was so much her thing, the whole 'star' thing. But that's not the way I look at music - I look at it as art. It's so ironic, of course, now that I've signed a record deal in that I am going to be making some money, but it's something I shied away from for quite a while. Money and music shouldn't go hand in hand at all, but I guess I have to eat, too - I suppose it makes sense that it does go hand in hand, but not to the detriment of the human spirit.
"I do feel funny about it, however, because I played shows in Nashville for years and no money was ever involved. Ultimately, I'm very grateful and thankful for the opportunities I've been given. It's stuff within my dreams, honestly."
Tidwell describes her music as "gothic country", which she admits makes it sound twisted and ever so slightly weird. "Maybe I've been listening to too much Morrissey and Tammy Wynette at the same time." Does the misery she experienced in her childhood connect creatively with what she does now? She reckons yes, stating that she never wants to be pigeonholed: "I think my records will be all over the map."
Another country music myth/legend/song: is it true that she lost her virginity in a cemetery?
"My great-grandfather was a caretaker in one of the largest cemeteries in the state of Tennessee," she says. "My mother's mother was born in a house on the cemetery, and we'd have picnics there. I learned how to drive there, too, so it was a fun place to me as a kid. And yes, I did lose my virginity there. It is unusual, I agree, but it was always viewed in the neighbourhood as a safe place to go. And very quiet, too!"
Don't Let Stars Keep Us Tangled Up is on Ever Records