Let’s get down to brass tacks: English singer-guitarist Anna Calvi in an interview isn’t the intense seductress she is while performing. Speaking from the road, as she continues down the lonesome highway of her current North American tour, promoting her self-titled debut album, her voice is timid. The words barely leave her lips.
It’s very different from her stage persona, which conjures strong, romantic images of intrigue and lust in exotic locations, say, war-addled Tangier or prohibition-era Chicago. Born, reared and still living in London, trained in classical violin and with a degree in music under her belt, Calvi nevertheless gives the air of silver-screen woman of mystery. Here, she provides some – just some – clues about what’s running through her head as she transports the rest of us musically.
You’ve talked about creating worlds for your songs to inhabit. What does that world look like? Is there a place you evoke for a lot of what you do?
Each song is different. They are all like mini-films in my head, and I imagine the way they look completely.
So songwriting is very much a cinematic exercise for you?
It comes from an emotional sense, willing to share something with people. The emotions create an atmosphere or picture, something very visual.
And then you carry that with intensity onstage, singing directly to the audience. Is that natural for you, or are you trying to take yourself out of your comfort zone?
I always felt making music is such a natural thing to do, it really brings out the strength in me. I find it’s the easiest and most fulfilling way to express myself. But it’s still daring. It’s not like it’s easy. ‘Comfort zone’ makes it feel lazy, but it’s not. It’s very natural and challenging at the same time.
Do you always look at people directly in the eye as much as you do onstage?
I find it easier to be confrontational onstage than I do in real life. I would look at you in real life, but it would be a different look than if I saw you in the audience.
Given the cinematic ideas in your songs, who do you see when you look at someone from the stage? Is it simply a person in the audience or do you imagine someone else?
I see that person. Sometimes people engage, and we have this bizarrely intimate moment. Or sometimes they’re scared, and they look away.
Your guitar playing and singing often sound very much like two separate voices, rather than you simply accompanying yourself. Do you feel that way?
I hear the guitar as a voice. All the inflections you get speaking and singing, the bending of notes, the way you interpret words, I approach it in the same way with the guitar. As a performer, it’s the idea that every note that you play or sing is really important, and you need to be present and give everything to every single note. That’s what I hear with players that I love, like Miles Davis. It was as much about how he played a note [as] what the note actually was. That’s something I think a lot about. I like to imagine my guitar as [if it’s] other instruments, and that helps me be imaginative in my playing.
Has anyone ever tried to steer you in a direction you didn’t want to go in, musically or image-wise?
No, I don’t think anyone would dare really. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way. I just wouldn’t have any time for anyone [like that].
Do you have similar influences, performers who came across strongly on stage, but also were revealing with their innermost emotions?
Yeah, Edith Piaf. And Maria Callas in particular was very inspiring in how strong she was in her conviction as an artist, her dedication to music. Nina Simone, I suppose, as well. People who gave everything to their music.
This interview has been condensed and edited.
