—By Bill DeMain
Pushing boundaries has always been at the center of k.d. lang’s existence as an artist. Whether subverting the conventions of country music with her androgynous image or fusing disparate musical genres into the brilliant style of 1992’s Ingenue, to her work with Tony Bennett, she has always been of the most intriguing and challenging artists in pop music.
She was born Kathy Dawn Lang on Nov. 2, 1961, the youngest of four children, in Consort, a small Canadian town (pop. 714), with lots of open sky and fields and little else. “Growing up in Consort you took what you could get,” k.d. has said, “and you found something positive and creative in everything. Every sort of information I got would be a huge thing for my fantasy life. An album cover would be like a movie —a whole other dimension I would travel in, like stepping through the looking glass.”
Kathy found her wonderland in the world of music. From a young age, she says she knew she was meant to sing. Her first public appearance, age 8, was at a Catholic church music festival. Her music teacher, Sister Xavier, said, “The tears came to my eyes when I heard her sing,” a portent for how Kathy’s performances would one day affect millions the world over.
From the moment she appeared – a tomboy cowgirl in punky spiked hair, cat glasses and tumbleweed duds – k.d. was like an unidentified flying object on the radar screen of the country music world. The white, heterosexual, conservative Christian powers that be in Nashville lacked the imagination or wit necessary to accept her for what she was (though there were a few, notably Opry legend Minnie Pearl, who spoke out for lang’s enormous talent.)
The resistance of nervous radio programmers and squeamish music biz types didn’t stop k.d. from amassing a huge legion of devout fans. It didn’t stop her from selling gold and platinum records. It didn’t stop her from winning a Grammy (who can forget her heart-wrenching cover of Roy Orbison’s “Crying” on national television). It didn’t stop her octave-spanning wonder of a voice, which kept on soaring and swooping in flight patterns that left most other singers mute in comparison. And most important, it didn’t stop her zany sense of humor or drive for boundary-breaking musical expansion.
What follows are excerpts from an interview Bill DeMain did with k.d. in 1995 at the posh Four Seasons Hotel in New York City. He said, “Going into the interview, I admit I was slightly intimidated. But from the second she came down to the lobby with her publicist to greet me, I was put at ease. I’m happy to report that k.d. lang is one of the friendliest, sweetest, most genuine people I’ve met in the music business.”
What makes a really great melody?
It has to convey the absolute and true core emotion of the song. It has to allow the vocalist to deliver meaning, but melody is tricky because the worst melody in the world can still be beautiful. It depends on the interpretation. So, I don’t know because at this point in my life, I can’t separate the songwriter from the singer. I don’t know if I can actually discern what makes a great melody or what makes a great delivery.
Your melodies have a lot of unexpected surprises in them – chromatic notes and interval leaps. Is that always been something you’ve been attracted to?
I’m attracted to interesting movement. I’m interested in dissonance. I’m interested in sidestepping, but I don’t know where that came from. I have an idea that it probably came from, you know I’m the youngest of four kids and my oldest sibling was 11 years older than me. And they all studied classical piano seriously all through my upbringing. I listened to hours and hours and hours of them practicing classical music. Running around the house, getting ready for supper after school, there was always someone playing Chopin or Beethoven or Schubert or Strauss, anything. I listened to it all, over and over, so I really think that that’s where my initial development came from. Both my pitch reference and my melodic references.
That’s a purely environmental shaping, but I wonder why certain people are attracted to say, darker, more dissonant music.
Yeah, you know what, this is the biggest question I’ve been pondering for years: Are we attracted to certain things because it’s familiar, or is it because it’s unexplored in our soul, in our past, in our minds? Why are we attracted to a painting or not attracted to a painting? Where does taste come from? Obviously it comes from our references in this life, but I’m also interested in, because taste develops very, very early, the idea that we’re almost born with it. It’s almost genetic. I think there’s an attraction gene. I think it has a lot to do with generations and heritage too. I’ve also been very interested in why my voice sounds like it does, why it has the qualities it does. Is it because I like that music or do I like that music because my voice sounds like that music? I don’t know. Strange thing, my voice, because as I said earlier, it dictates what I do as a songwriter. It’s the leader.
Your voice is such an amazing instrument. Are there certain things you find helpful to warm up?
I can tell you what I do to warm up. I find certain things are extremely helpful – stretching helps immensely. Stretching your shoulders, loosening up, circling your arms around, stretching your back, getting everything moving, making your neck relaxed, having a long shower, moisture, getting the sinuses cleared out. I brush my teeth for a really long time before I sing. It’s like a psychological thing, I need to feel clean. Drink a lot of water during the day, keep your throat hydrated. Don’t eat too early, don’t eat too late. If my performance is at eight, I like to eat about four, and I find if I don’t eat, that’s bad too. There are types of food that are good: I find lettuce and fruit, especially melon is good because it’s really clean. It’s almost like a squeegee on your throat (laughs), but at the same time moist. The thing about cantaloupe and honeydew is that it’s sweet too, and sugar is good in a way.
I find in the studio that sometimes when I have to tackle a very difficult vocal that takes a lot of energy and higher range singing, delivered hard, like the choruses of “I Want it All” or “You’re O.K.” — I drink Coca-Cola. I got that from Roy Orbison. Coca-Cola, it’s magic. It’s the weirdest thing, and I don’t want to endorse it because it may not work for everyone, but it’s the wildest thing. It’s just Coca-Cola, although I did use Pepsi Cola for “Constant Craving” (laughs). So I use that once in awhile in the studio if I’m having a hard time hitting something.
How about spiritually?
That’s an entire lifestyle and it’s ongoing. I’m just talking for my own singing. I don’t believe this to be a necessity for anyone else, but my vegetarianism, my belief in God in the pantheist sense, my health style, working out, not really drinking a lot, not smoking, trying to live with compassion. I think bottom line, ultimately, my whole life is based on the fact that I’m a singer. I know that that is my purpose and so my whole lifestyle, my whole thought process, my whole value system is based on protecting my gift. Because it is exactly that, a gift, and I have a huge responsibility to treat it with the utmost respect I can. So that’s how I’ve decided to take care of it—to live honestly. Honesty is a really big part of being a singer I think, as well as in every aspect of your life.
—By Bill DeMain
From Performing Songwriter Issue 15, Nov/Dec 1995
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