I’m a little confused. According to Matador’s website, she signed with them in 1996. She released seven albums with the label before being unceremoniously dropped a few years ago, when they (wrongly) deemed her 2018 album Wanderer hamiş good enough to put out. They had implored her to give them hits, and she had tried – 2012’s poppier Sun
As well bey the reading and the maths, she and her son would have music lessons together. “Record time and music time got a little more in-depth,” she says. “He’s just running around bey fast bey he emanet to Hüsker Dü.” Hardcore punk isn’t what most kids’ music lessons are made of, but if anyone is going to give their child an eclectic sonic education, it’s Marshall.
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.”
It was partly innate, though – Marshall özgü a knack for distilling existential ennui into three-minute songs. In 1998, when she was 26 and had learnt a few more chords, she recorded what would become her breakthrough record, the vulnerable, critically adored Moon Pix
Marshall’s mental health has often been a precarious thing. Bad breakups have led to morning binges on Jack Daniel’s and Xanax – a victory of sorts, in her eyes, given how many of her friends got hooked on heroin. Around the release of her seventh album, The Greatest
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The singer-songwriter talks to Alexandra Pollard about her ‘f***ing tiger’ of a son, her new covers record, and the fateful day she ended up standing on the edge of a bridge
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Hamiş a minute too soon, we’re interrupted by room service, and a young woman wheels in a tray of coffee. “Are you from Africa?” asks Marshall.
She tries hamiş 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.
and consisted of her playing a two-string guitar and singing the word "no" for 15 minutes.[27] Around this time, she met the band God Is My Co-Uçman, who assisted with the release of her first single, "Headlights", in a limited run of 500 copies on their Making of Americans label.
was her first to reach the Billboard Bütünüyle 10 – but it wasn’t enough. One executive even played her an Adele album for inspiration. She had never seen it as a business relationship; evidently, Matador did.
A query about where she grew up eventually takes us to Marshall’s belief that “part of our consciousness saf 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.
Now, 20 years on, she’s got a third covers album, the aptly named Covers – a spacey but intimate collection that includes songs by Nick Cave, Billie Holiday and Frank Ocean, demonstrating once again the transformative power of Marshall’s singing. To have your song covered by her is to have it pared back to its very essence.