MUSIC

Thus, Suzy Condrad’s brilliant new EP. Julian Owen meets the architect.

Blimey, we thought. We’d enjoyed the willowy dusk-folk of last year’s ‘Stop the Carousel’ EP, but when Suzy Condrad’s latest four-tracker – ‘Sea of Me’ – hit our desk back in springtime, it was clearly time to talk. “Not yet,” she advised. A mere demo of a work in progress, apparently. Double blimey.

Well, release time is upon us, together with an object lesson in what can be achieved with a bedroom, a looper and a fertile musical imagination. ‘Bars of the Cage’, with its flutteringly echoing glockenspiel, quietly purring guitar and sheen of “oooh”s, scores level with Bat For Lashes or Jesca Hoop on the enchanting-ometer. On ‘Gemini’ you can practically see a chorus line of coyly waving long gloves from the first 50s hep-jazz “baa baa”s; less so, the imminent arrival of beatbox and buzz-fuzz guitar threatening to break into ‘Sweet Jane’. There are words here, too. Words forming lines you can imagine being sung in Laurel Canyon circa 1970, disciples at Joni’s feet murmuring ‘Mmm, so true’. “You’re old enough to drive and young enough to think you know your mind,” for example.

Today, Suzy is ready to talk. Five years ago she was only just ready to sing. “Before that I used to play hunched against the radiator, writing songs half an octave lower than my range because my diaphragm was squashed.” Since then, the self-taught performer has experienced

“detours and misconceptions” such as “not believing I can sing, or having a slightly warped idea of music theory from reading Yamaha keyboard manuals”. To a third-party observer, you can clearly sing. “You either think you’re beautiful enough, or you look right away at the spot on your face, not the whole face.”

The influence of music on Suzy’s life can be traced back to birth – her Leonard Cohen-inspired name – and beyond. On her mother’s side she’s related to cockney music hall and film star Lily Morris (“In 1925 she visited America and stopped the show at the New York Hippodrome with so many encores she had to make a little curtain speech,” says her biog. YouTube shows why). She’s part-Burmese on her father’s side, the man who “was a collector of songs, recording the radio to make millions of compilations of treasure. I was very influenced by my parents for a long time, grew up on 50s rock ’n’ roll and 40s jazz standards – Mills Brothers, Buddy Holly.” Thus, when she started performing with just guitar, “I was very frustrated because all the music I listened to had a whole orchestra. That’s why I love looping, being able to create layers.”

Her own musical discoveries betray that radio upbringing, if not in content then in scatological nature. “I remember secretly listening to Guns N’ Roses because my parents didn’t approve. At 16 or 17 I got into Madness. After that, Manics. I borrowed a lot of CDs from the library: Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, Psychedelic Furs.” When given her first guitar, it was purely as “a bedroom thing. The first thing I ever tried to tab was ‘Through the Barricades’ by Spandau Ballet. I spent a whole day writing down where the notes were.”

A songwriting workshop in a Canadian cafe proved the performing catalyst, when the organiser insisted she returned to play. “And people liked it – I’d never felt that elated. You feel like you’ve been to a party, got drunk, kissed everybody, and told them all your life story. That, but sober.” On returning, Suzy went through a phase of wanting The Big Music Deal, a phase she now puts down to “that grammar school mentality of wanting to be validated and get marked 10 out of 10 with a gold star, like an essay.”

Instead, Venue is left with the sense of someone who writes and sings because, to paraphrase Mr Cohen, she has no choice. “My dad died when I was 15. A lot of my songs are about expressing loss, people that aren’t there any more. I like music that’s got ghosts in it, a previous life.” Hence the name of her new live band, Memory Box. That, and a smart play on her work’s looper origins.

An armchair psychologist might nod knowingly as she recalls her sense of panic when a key musical collaborator announced he was moving overseas. “To start with I felt like I was at the mercy of cruel Greek gods tossing me around. Now I see happiness as quite transient; you have to hang onto it. In the past I haven’t known how to, but I’ve got more of an idea now – things like making sure there’s something to do tomorrow.” Things like designing the graphics on her website, and filling it with videos from smartly chosen collaborators. “I’ve got no pedigree,” she insists. Not on a certificate, perhaps, but it’s all over the work. Gold star.

SUZY CONDRAD PLAYED TIMBUKTU, TUE 30 NOV AND MOTHER'S RUIN, THUR 2 DEC. 
 

Copyright Julian Owen 2010

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