Photo by Wendy Janssens
Lene Lovich
At age 13, Lili-Marlene Premilovich moved with her mother to England. She attended art school in late ‘60s London and dabbled in many creative activities but became known worldwide a decade later for music. As Lene Lovich, she emerged from Britain’s new wave scene but with an idiosyncratic, unmistakably unique aesthetic. She didn’t look punk, new wave or goth; her long plaited hair and mod-folkloric garb was less Siouxsie Sioux than Sergei Diaghilev's Ballet Russes.
Her distinction was on full display throughout her debut album, whose title magnified the Balkan mystery of her persona, Stateless (1978). Singing in a vaguely unplaceable accent, often with the panache of Marlene Dietrich and occasionally the birdcalls of a more melodious Yoko Ono, Lovich brought erotic tension to several selections. The album’s hip-shaking “Lucky Number” shot to No. 3 on the UK chart, but Stateless found only a small audience when released in the United States in 1979.
Lovich’s recording career continued for several delightful albums and EPs including Flex (1980), New Toy (1981) and No Man’s Land (1982) before she pulled back from her career to raise a family. She didn’t entirely abandon music, recording with several artists including Nina Hagen and the Residents, and singing the role of Madeline Usher in Peter Hammill’s opera The Fall of the House of Usher (1991). In 2012 she returned to live performance with a new band and is returning to the U.S. for her first North American tour in decades. She performs at Shank Hall, 8 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 20.
I caught up with Lovich as her tour got underway.
You moved to England at age 13 with your mother. Was there a sense of a culture shock—and if so, did that become an impetus for you, creatively?
Running away to my mother’s country with my brother and two sisters was a relief from my father’s dark and dangerous moods. It was a chance for a new start. It was good to feel safe.
I was the oldest, it was my job to care for and amuse the little ones while my mother worked. That’s when I began to think of funny songs to make us happy. We also liked dressing up, pretending to be characters from fairy tales. We had no toys.
You went to art school, sculpted, danced, performed in theater, but music became your primary outlet. Why music? Did you find music more fulfilling? Was it a desire to reach a larger audience?
Going to art school was my dream. But the reality was a disappointment. There was a very narrow view of what was good art and how you were supposed to do it. Because I didn’t understand the language of acceptable art, I couldn’t explain my ideas or easily defend my reasons.
Music was a more exciting world. Almost everyone I met was in a band or making music in some way. I felt it was going to be easier to be myself in that world and have some fun at the same time.
How did you respond to the punk rock and post-punk that erupted in the UK in the late ‘70s? Did you feel that you were part of that or did you think of yourself as an outsider in that scene?
The punk revolution was a glorious time for me. I didn’t easily fit in with the sound of most punk bands, but I was close in spirit. It was a time of chaos, confusion and creative freedom. “Do it yourself” was the attitude and I liked that!
As a lyricist, what themes interested or inspired you?
I’ve never analyzed where the words come from. I’ll go wherever the feeling takes me. I’m more likely to listen to my own ideas and emotions rather than what’s popular or relevant to someone else.
Tell me a little about your role in the Judge Smith opera Orfeas. Was this ever produced on stage or was it only released as an album?
Judge Smith has been a close friend for many years. We met while I was at art school. I was instantly attracted to his way of making music and his unusual ideas about everything. We work very well together, whatever the project. It was natural for him to ask me to be a part of Orfeas. You’ll have to ask Judge to explain my role. I don’t usually need to know. He will always say if I’m doing it right or not. There’s never a problem.
Are you writing new songs? Do you have plans to release new material? If you are writing, tell me about your development as a songwriter since the ‘70s. How have you changed (or not)?
I always have ideas, but life is complicated. It seems to be enough for me to just think about songs. I don’t feel the need to bring those ideas into the real world right now. But this could change.
