Talking with Tanita

At the age of 19, Tanita Tikaram took the rock world by storm with her stunning debut disc, Ancient Heart. Now she's back, with the Sweet Keeper, a collection of songs and a second album that didn't take forever.

Tanita Tikaram has come a long way since her first appearance at London's Mean Fiddler Acoustic Room in 1987, a session which was to begin her cinderella-like trip from obscurity to stardom. She's a long way from the record company's initial promotional T-shirt of 1988 which featured a phonetic spelling of her name - just so people could get it right the first time.

Tikaram's now a household name and although born in Munster, Germany in 1969, she is considered a home-grown British talent, an intelligent teen who made the most of her distinctive voice and sophisticated songs. On the back of the critically acclaimed and very successful debut album Ancient Heart, featuring the massive hits Good Tradition and A Twist In My Sobriety, the half-Fijian/half Malayan daughter of a diplomat toured the world extensively, blazing up if not topping the charts in each country she visited. And now, on the release of her second album, The Sweet Keeper, which is expected to hit the charts hard, Tanita Tikaram talks.

At the office of Paul Charles, her manager, the interview room is conveniently arranged. Charles sits directly opposite Tikaram - on the other side of the room - so the chat turns into a session of head fuming for me. In order to pay attention to whoever is talking at the moment, I swing my face to and from. It's a bit like being at Wimbledon's centre court. But the conversation is more fun than business.

Under a luxurious heedful of black hair and clothed in a denim jacket with sleeves long enough for her to grab in order to tap each of the metal cuff buttons rhythmically together, Tikaram looks very healthy - even more so now that a year of living has whittled down her rather girlish features into those of a very striking young women.

It is almost as if turning 20 in August has brought with it a new perspective. In previous interviews, the singer/songwriter seemed eager to talk while, understandably, still protecting herself from the often harsh or at best cynical if appreciative music press. These days Tikaram laughs. A lot.

She laughs freely in a clear, rich tone which only occasionally hints at the deep, womanly vocals that make her tunes stand out. She seems to enjoy doing interviews, but, unlike some, she keeps much of herself hidden. She takes things at her own pace. Tikaram is a young woman who believes in judicious speech, thinking those who flaunt their life for anyone to see as 'dishonest'. Hence, the discussion is light, only occasionally censored but always enjoyable.

Recorded with the help of Rod Argent and Peter Van Hooke (of Mike And The Mechanics fame), The Sweet Keeper is another if slightly more uptempo selection of Tikaram songs. While many bands struggle for years to create their second album, Tikaram has transcended the "difficult second album syndrome".

The Sweet Keeper, she insists, was done without the headaches of a deadline. "It didn't take me years to do Ancient Heart," says Tikaram. "I know some people do have this collection of songs over the years and then they are suddenly thrown into this situation of having to do the second album, which is not very nice at all. But I never had any pressure to make a second album. They said, 'Forget it'!" she laughs and refers to her first album, "'That's your career!' But I had the songs. I like to have songs under my belt."

The process of songwriting is an intriguing one, especially in Tikaram's case, where her tunes are strong enough to be recorded with other artists. Recently, Twist In My Sobriety was covered by Liza Minnelli on her Pet Shop Boys-produced album, Results. It's a rendition that Tanita thinks is very brave.

"I watched an interview with her and she definitely has a fresh perspective on the song. She said it was very specifically about controlling a relationship. I don't know how you can do that, but that was what she was saying - a very positive thing. I was surprised," she says, "I went and listened to the song again!"

How does Tanita write a song? "When I write I am truly inspired. I just sing the song, put a tape on and I have a song. And that's it. I don't know where it comes from. It seems as if there is some building up to it which maybe refines everything before you have this freedom - this burst of creative energy. Everything is kind of nearly right but not quite, and then there seems to be this period that anything I want to say ..." she says, confidently snapping her fingers, "... just comes out. Just like that. It is not a process that I particularly understand because I can't sit down and write a song. At the moment I'm writing but there is no good reason why I should be. It doesn't make any sense.

"And then there's this horrible phase where you want to write and you just can't," she grimaces then laughs when I ask if she worries about those phases. "No ... I'm very happy! Give me more!" Tikaram smiles broadly. "If you care about what you do, you aren't really gonna say 'it'll pass'. Even if you've just written a song, you are wondering where your next song is gonna come from," Tikaram ponders. "'How many chords are there?' And you have these perhaps irrational fears if you will ever be able to write again. When you have these dry phases - and they go on for months - you just go 'Oh God'. You're trying so hard and then you suddenly click out of it."

The title track The Sweet Keeper comes from the lyrics of a track called I Owe It All To You which is about Mrs Tikaram, her mother. "Yes. Isn't that sweet?" she says with a half sly, half genuine smile. "That's where the sweet keeper comes from. I didn't sit down to write it - again - but then I was writing it and I though 'this is about my mother'. But on a very simple level' [The Sweet Keeper is as if] I have these things to present to you' something quite generous and warm," says Tikaram' adding with a giggle, "and lots of other reasons which I can't think of right now ..."

Despite her youth, Tikaram seems very centred, confident and enviously together. Even though she has worked hard, she doesn't bear the scars of paying her dues. There is nothing terribly streetwise about her. "I think I busked once or twice." she says "really obscure songs, like Tom Waits. And then the Sam Cooke song Another Saturday Night. My friend joined me and we sang House Of The Rising Sun about twenty times and that was pretty boring. But my brother busks and he knows about 100 songs ... I don't have the energy to learn songs!"

Indeed, Tikaram doesn't seem to be a tortured artist in the mode of her mentor Leonard Cohen. "I am actually. Terrible thing really," she says playfully "No I'm not ..."
"She would never cut off her ear for her art" jokes Charles.

And as far as people liking her music Tikaram adheres to the take-it or leave-it school of music. "You either like my music or you don't and I can't persuade you unless you hear it. I don't know of a way of making myself more attractive to somebody. You just have to listen to it and if you like it, thank you very much. If you don't, I'm sorry."

And her image? Does she get mauled on trips back and forth from Basingstoke to London? "People might say hi' but it's never a mad frenzy. I wish!" she laughs. "Unfortunately it never happens like that. I get more recognised if I'm in my coat - it's actually a black suit. People do tend to recognise the coat ..."
"Well, the coat does autographs and personal appearances ..." adds Charles with a smile.

Chatting with Tanita and her manager is a pleasant experience, albeit a dizzying one as I try to keep track of each of the interesting people on opposite sides of the room. The conversation shifts from DAT to dogs' dance songs to 'classics' on the chart and famous people's clothing. Between hilarious non sequiturs and furious discussions about which events occurred in which city, I wonder if, after such extensive touring, Tikaram has any stage superstitions or lucky traditions before she steps out onto the boards.

"We used to do something with the band," she says with a smile. "We used to pretend we were the kids from Fame!" We all begin to collapse with laughter "We used to hold hands and just jump up and shout and release all the tension. But it was really pathetic because one of them had a violin so you couldn't hold his hand! We would just do that. And that seemed to be quite a good thing. We only did it to prove to everyone that we were a band...

"It wasn't really my idea, it was Frank's," Tikaram defends the silliness of the idea. "We seemed to thrive on it. Except when we had really small dressing rooms' and then it became a bit of a ... risk. And there was only one place where the room was so small that we didn't do it. That funny place where they were all worried that I was going to corrupted because I was a minor ..." Laughs all around' again belying the somberness of Tanita Tikaram's music and her black-suited appearance.