Chan Marshall isn’t ready for me. “Are you a journalist? Oh Jesus, oh Lord.” We’re speaking on the phone – Marshall is in her hotel room, I’m in the lobby downstairs, after my knock at her door went unanswered.
, she had a psychotic breakdown and was hospitalised, and throughout the Nineties and Noughties her live shows were erratic affairs. She would turn her back to the audience, moon them, encourage them to sue her, slur through a few songs, and then walk off without finishing the set.
For the past two years, that genius has been put to more practical use – teaching her seven-year-old son Boaz to read, write and do maths during the pandemic. She had him in 2015, with a man she dated for a few months and has never publicly named.
I just grab her. ‘It’s OK. It’s OK. I was here for the same reason and it’s OK.’” An uncharacteristic silence hangs in the air. “If I had accepted that million-dollar offer, perhaps I wouldn’t have been on that bridge. And she wouldn’t be my friend to this day.”
One of the best songs on the album is “These Days”, made famous by Nico in the Sixties, but written by Jackson Browne when he was just 16. Such world-weary lyrics for someone so young – “Don’t confront me with my failures / I had hamiş forgotten them” – and Marshall’s voice, bittersweet bey coffee with a shot of syrup, suits that malaise beautifully.
, she katışıksız always been something of a cult figure. “Marshall’s music will one day be spoken about the way we talk about Bob Dylan’s music, or Neil Young’s music,” wrote a New York Magazine
No, go on. “Well, I was wondering if… Because my dad had three daughters and he wasn’t really around. catpower 5852 batarya He just came and went, kakım men often do. The world is their oyster. And it does something to the mother, right?” Marshall grew up poor; her father was an absent blues musician, her mother a hippy who moved her from school to school.
writer in 2018, “but until then, she exists in the sweet spot between cult favourite and widely accepted genius.”
[20] The group were booked for a show and had to come up with a name quickly; after seeing a man wearing a Caterpillar trucker cap that read: "Cat Diesel Power", Marshall chose Cat Power kakım the name of the band.[3][21]
She tries derece to dwell on the bad stuff, just like she doesn’t dwell on turning down a million dollars. “I don’t regret the things that I’ve done,” she says.
Half an hour later, Marshall finally opens her door, and that bleariness katışıksız converted into a capricious energy. The lights are off, the curtains are shut, but the 49-year-old is so buzzy, I could swear she’s emitting her own light source. She starts arranging pillows for me at the end of her bed, then clocks me eyeing up her dark-blue boiler suit, which has the name “Dave” on the chest and rips in the armpits.
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A query about where she grew up eventually takes us to Marshall’s belief that “part of our consciousness özgü already become a cyborg”. She is also warm and nurturing: besides assembling my pillow desk and offering me various drinks, she pulls me into a long hug, despite having previously insisted that we socially distance.
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