New Music Heaven : Jade Bird

August 5, 2018

“The common thread in all my music, my lyrics, my shows and my artwork is me,” begins Jade Bird. "I don't feel like anybody can shift my character.”

Nor should they want to. Jade channels that character — and her creativity — into music that Rolling Stone have described as “a young Londoner’s spin on modern Americana” and which Jade herself calls “kind of country, kind of blues, kind of pop and kind of none of that”. Either way, Jade’s music is passionate, full-bodied commentary that finds this 20-year-old, “funny-on-a-good-day” songwriter singing about the vows we make to ourselves and each other: what it takes to make them, what is required to keep them and what it means to break them.

To breathe further life into her work Jade’s chosen to record her debut album in Woodstock with celebrated producer Simone Felice, whose CV covers folk, alternative, roots and Americana and includes work with Bat For Lashes and The Lumineers. “I always wanted to record with a character,” Jade adds, “and Simone was my first choice. I knew I’d made the right decision during my first phone call with him, when he broke off and started talking about going for walks in the woods.”

Jade started gigging at 13, kicking things off with a set of dubious covers on a fairylight-draped stage at one end of a Bridgend pub, before hurling herself into competitions with her own songs along with gigs anywhere that’d take her, which involved memorable performances in nursing homes and psychiatric wards. “That period was all quite strange,” she smiles now, “but it taught me everything I know today about how to hold a room.” That came in useful on moving to London, when Jade started appearing at open mic nights at Camden’s Spiritual Bar (whose address, 4 Ferdinand Street, she has since immortalised in Jade’s song Lottery). “A lot of my blues influences came from there,” she acknowledges, “but it was tough. I knew as soon as I got on stage that the owner would be shouting at me about all my ‘pop shit’. It very quickly taught me that I had to grow some balls and write some bigger, better songs.”

Spoiler alert: that’s exactly what happened. Jade’s first step was to record a load of demos in the bathroom with one of her mates — those were enough to get her management and access to a modest studio, where she recorded simple acoustic versions that, in turn, were the songs she sent to Simone Felice. But before she could get down to work, there was something she needed to address. “I had a debate with myself,” she says. “And came down to one question: why am I doing this? I feel like I have an obligation with myself to be honest. And it didn’t feel like I was pursuing this for money, because I don't want excess, and I only really want a roof over my head and there are loads of other ways of achieving that. Ultimately, I realised that my aim was really simple. I want people to look back on me and think I made a fucking great album.”

It’s a goal that makes more sense then you learn of Jade’s stash of notebooks whose pages (lined, Jade insists, because everyone needs at least some sort of structure in their lives) contain the blueprints for over 600 songs: most totally unusable, Jade accepts, but with maybe 100 decent tunes here and there which, she surmises, is enough to be getting on with.

A rapidly swelling group of fans would seem to agree, particularly since the release of Jade’s debut EP, Something American. “When I listen to New Music Friday I stick out like a sore thumb,” Jade laughs. "It's funny when people listen to my music and they go, wow, that sounds really vintage. I'm like, don’t panic — it's just the sound of real drums!”

We'll be playing Jade and her real drums all week on 94/7. When you hear "Uh Huh," text HOT or NOT to 44624 to let us know what you think of it! And if you're in the 94/7 Nation (and why wouldn't you be?) you'll be getting a free download of the track sent to you, thanks to Burgerville.