October 04 Newsletter

Tris produced 101 tracks each one carefully remastered digitally from my original tapes, to which no one has ever previously had access, to sound exactly like the vinyl releases. The box set consists of all my singles, A and B sides from 64 to now. Whilst going through them Tris discovered loads of unreleased material, which got everyone very excited. So much love and care was put into making these 4 CD’s and I was overwhelmed with the result. So far, so spiffing.

The artwork department worked really hard, way into the night on the 64 page accompanying book. We sent them over a crate of beer to keep them going. Tris was given the key to my underground cellar full of my stored ‘stuff" so that he could rifle through for items of personal memorabilia to include. We did a taped conversation together: a running track-by-track commentary which was mostly me laughing. It was eventually printed verbatim. Bob Stanley, from St Etienne - who I still haven’t met, wrote an extraordinary career overview. It made me blush when I read it. Then I sat down to pen the introduction. The going was still good.

I met Debra from Promotions and decided to limit contact with the press to 4 items: a phone interview with Uncut, a face to face with Mojo, and two dailies, The Guardian and Telegraph, interviews with photos. The first two were easy, pleasurable even, but they were mostly round the music. I left for a break in France after these and put the others right at the back of my mind. Before I left I made arrangements to get my hair, nails, and toes done and a body massage on my return. Not that anyone would see the results, just an effort to pamper myself and to help me in my psychological metamorphosis from unknown French farm girl into British super icon. However I forgot the first rule of sod’s law. Things never go to plan.

I was suddenly summoned home a week early by Tris and EMI in order to satisfy the editorial needs of the two dailies. Luckily Grace rushed to my rescue, dropping her work as a TV director in order to assist me in my hours of need. She organized planes and times and a make up artist, Carol Hart, who although came highly recommended, I had never met. It all happened so quickly and I was so unprepared and finally because I couldn’t be arsed, I did not bother to do the transformation bit. With some curious results.

The Guardian interview was with a fine young writer called David B Peschek who I became so friendly with that we ended up exchanging a book and CD’s. We even carried the interview on into telephone calls.

The Guardian photographer was none other than Eamonn McCabe, ex picture editor of The Observer (the one in pictures), admired by so many in the industry and now going back to his roots of photography. He very much wanted a picture of the person. This was completely in line with what I was prepared to achieve. Carol had done wonders in raising my confidence with her skills (you can see for yourself). This was a real meeting of minds and the results were fantastic.

Towards the end of this session the room was invaded by a cheeky chappy who proceeded to try and disturb the equilibrium we had made. He turned out to be the Photographer from The Telegraph.

I perceived a little tension between the two men as one packed and the other unpacked his gear. It turns out that Photographer number two was given his first break by Eamonn when he was an editor and their parting had left number two with a bit of an unresolved chip on his shoulder. And Me? Where was I in all this? Stuck in the bloody middle. That’s where. Well after the professional communion with Eamonn there was an uneasy transition to Mr. Telegraph who had not only entered on the wrong foot by upsetting everybody he made contact with in the building but had also started on the wrong foot by asking me to pose standing with my legs astride a Buddha! Perhaps they sent a Sun photographer by mistake.

After my refusal he suggested I stand in a window frame four feet off the ground and offered to give me a" bunk up"! By now it was clear we came from different planets. Debra was furious with him. "Oh-oh," I thought," there is going to be some fall-out." I drifted off to Africa to play with the lions. While Grace took him aside to explain our aims and try and gain some compromise. "But I’m trying to get an Image!" he explained.

What on earth did he think he had in front of him?

"But she is a Person, we would like you to capture that," she explained back. He looked dumbfounded. I returned from Africa baffled, thinking, "Why is this young man trying to teach me about symbolism, shape, inference and - image???" I mean I don’t wish to blow my own trumpet but…

As moment by moment he dug himself ever deeper into the mire, I switched to automatic pilot, smiling at the birdy, whilst prowling the Masai Mara plains in the scorching heat of the afternoon sun. In the distance I could hear the "click" as the hunter cocked his rifle and aimed his shot. The scent of his fear carried on the hot breeze. At long last

The Telegraph writer took over. It was none other than Paul Morley. I entered the room, saw him, and exclaimed,"but you’re famous!" "That’s my line," he replied. To my relief this guy was a human being and really nice to boot. We got on so well he asked me to guest on an album he was making…

So all in all a bit of an experience. I hope that you like "Nothing Comes Easy" after all I have put myself through.

If you want to read the Guardian feature, click on:

http://www.sandieshaw.com/feature-guardian20041028.php

If you want to discuss it, the Forum is back on line!