I’ve come to realise that the old models of making albums are becoming defunct. I spent 10 years on a major label, and it was sometimes hard: I was signed to EMI by the two guys who originally signed Radiohead and Kate Bush, who were excited that I dabbled in lots of different art forms. However, they left and I was given the man who signed Lily Allen and Kylie, and after that I felt tolerated rather than supported.
I didn’t want to “go pop” or compromise my vision. Many of the artists I loved – David Bowie, Kate Bush, the Beatles – had been associated with EMI, and others such as Björk had also proved that it is possible to have commercial success and be unique and artistic. Had I been working in the 1960s or 70s I would have ridden a wave of avant garde work into the mainstream. I had three Top 10 albums, and Brit, Ivor Novello and Mercury nominations, but at times I felt like I was negotiating my art school philosophy of DIY.
I played the game sometimes. At one of my first photoshoots they wanted me to stand in a field with a guitar. I said, “But I want to be in a boxing ring with a taxidermy bear!” It’s very hard to stand in front of a major label person and refuse to shorten a song, but Thom Yorke gave me great advice: “If you’re proud of the music you’re making, don’t worry about anything else. Because the music will remain forever.”
I’ve joined Patreon to be able to connect more closely with fans, and for a small subscription fee, fans will be able to access original music, recipes, tarot readings, have creative mentorship or chats or see pictures of my paintings – artists such as MIA have also been doing it. In the past I’ve put postcards, stickers or handwritten letters in limited edition records, but this offers much greater opportunity to curate my own world as one might an art gallery. It’s my own universe, somewhere that can be audio, visual, anything I want. My incentives are to have a more direct connection and be creatively fulfilled.
For me, the creative spirit is a fragile thing, and when business gets over-involved it pollutes the river, and sets off on a journey that makes nobody happy. It makes me sad that artists get interfered with. The three-year album-tour-album cycle means there are bursts of creativity and then long gaps and a lot of creative stuff drops by the wayside. I made my 2019 album Lost Girls with then-independent distributors Awal, and for the first time owned my own record. And from now on, I want to share music when I want, to keep pushing it and for more people to hear it.
I sometimes feel we’re losing sight of how valuable music is. I get messages on Patreon or Instagram from fans telling me how my music got them through a huge depression or losing a child. It was the same for me. When my father left home when I was 11 I’d just pump Nirvana’s Incesticide because it really resonated with that suffering, anger and frustration.
Similarly, I feel we’re affording less value to music, and that our culture is being let down by governments and institutions. I’m sure that if you ask any consumer who loves an artist, they would want that artist to be paid, but it’s not the consumers who decide what Spotify pays artists. The problem is with the middleman, and that’s what needs to change. You don’t go up to an ice cream vendor, ask for six ice creams and walk away without paying, but that’s how the tiny royalties from streaming feel. As we’re moving into a more digital age, it has to become a safe space for professionals to not be taken advantage of. Creativity must be properly rewarded.
I’m also saddened by the proposed cuts to UK arts education, because my early career teaching kids and subsequent art school years really formed me as a person. I tried German expressionism, used animation and created synthesisers – there was even a module about Sonic Youth. It was an amazing learning experience and creative community, and I’ve found that creative community again in Los Angeles, where I’ve spent the last four years. There’s a music school for kids where I’ve seen a really cute Indian boy in a Nasa space suit play Guns N’ Roses, or a little girl singing Kate Bush’s And Dream of Sheep, and I’m seeing that spirit trying to prevail.
I’ll still make records and go on tour, but with this new Patreon site, it feels like I’m 20 again, or when I was a nursery teacher in Brighton promising myself I’d do a gig every month until I got noticed. In the years I’ve been doing this, social media has become swamped, but Patreon feels as homegrown, punk and DIY as selling your own fanzine or CD because you’re going direct to people. I’m lucky enough to have a fanbase so hopefully it will build, but that doesn’t take away the joy of doing it. I think that this way I can make sense of a world in transition. It’s about finding a way of being true to myself.