Rumer At The Top

“I know it sounds like some crazy work of fiction, but it’s all true. A lot of shit’s happened to me that I’m probably only now coming to terms with.”

Sarah Joyce, AKA gossamer-voiced singer-songwriter du jour Rumer, is reflecting on how action-packed – and on occasion fucked up – her 31-years roaming the planet have been.
Having hopped up on Dr. Clark’s couch, she’s going to start by telling us about her childhood.
“I was born and spent the early part of my life in Pakistan where my Dad was the chief-engineer in charge of the building of the Tarbela Dam, which is about 30 miles northwest of Islamabad,” she reminisces. “In those days when you got a job abroad you brought your entire family with you, so there was this rolling community of people from all over the world, their significant others and hundreds of kids for me to run riot with all day long! The temperature rarely dropped below 30 degrees, which meant you were always outside playing and getting up to some sort of mischief. The awakening when we went back to England and I had to go to a proper school for the first time couldn’t have been ruder! I went to a little primary school called St. Joseph’s where the priority was being well behaved rather than creative. They weren’t horrible or anything, but I cried and cried because suddenly I was stuck in a classroom all day.”
That was nothing though compared to the trauma of discovering aged 11 that her biological Dad was in fact an elderly Pakistani chef who her linguist mother had had an affair with.
“Yes, that was a bit of a shock,” Rumer says with a wry smile. “I used to get upset growing up because I was so dark and my sisters were so blonde. My Mum would console me, but otherwise sweep it under the carpet. I associated my darkness with being different, which as a kid you don’t want to be. By trying so hard to fit in, I just made myself stand out all the more.
“As glad as I am now to know the truth, back then it was painful and I was depressed for quite a long time. My Dad was incredibly noble about the whole situation – he didn’t treat me any differently to my siblings, though obviously he was devastated and broke up with my Mum. It was tough, but a lot of kids have gone through worse.”
Those events made her mother’s death in 2003 from breast cancer even more difficult to come to terms with. ‘Healer’, one of the standouts from Rumer’s debut Seasons Of My Soul album, contains lyrics like “Sometimes I feel so temporary just like those summer days/If I close my eyes, I can hear you laughing”, which describe her confusion and sense of loss.
“I’m starting to sound like a right old miserable cow, aren’t I?” she laughs. “What’s that old adage – ‘Out of adversity good things arise’? Well, I went back to Pakistan in 2008 to meet my relatives there and fell in love with it all over again. This place that I go to on the Northwest Frontier is unbelievable. There’s valley upon valley of pine forests, with old men looking out over the vastness and makeshift tea-shacks. The children are so beautiful and pure of heart – it’s just tragic what the country’s been through recently in terms of both natural and manmade disasters.
“I’m not ready to turn into Bono yet, but if I’m ever in a position to raise awareness or money for Pakistan, I will.”
As a British Asian, what was Rumer’s take on Chris Morris’ controversial – could it have been anything else? – Jihad comedy, Four Lions.
“I haven’t seen it, but my boyfriend was telling me one of his friends has and it’s absolutely hilarious. Extremism is awful and, in my opinion, best dealt with by ensuring that children in countries like Pakistan don’t grow up in poverty and receive a proper education. I’m delighted to be supporting my little nieces and nephews there, and will continue to do so for as long as I can, but it should be governments doing that not individuals.”
If David Cameron is looking for a foreign affairs advisor, I know just the woman. Lest we forget, the reason I’ve gotten up at stupid o’clock on a Saturday morning to chew the fat with Ms. Joyce is that album of hers, which got instant Twitter approval from a rather unlikely source.
“The former deputy leader of the British Labour Party, John Prescott, saw me on Later… With Jools Holland and tweeted: ‘She sounds like Karen Carpenter singing Bacharach’, which instantly became this big talking point in the media.”
Asked by the Guardian for a lengthier critique, Prescott added: “She sang only one song, but it moved me – right back to the ‘70s and the days of eight-track cartridges playing the likes of Karen Carpenter and Carole King. Like Billie Holiday, there was a real sadness and longing in her voice.”
He may have been a rubbish politician, but as a music critic, Prezzer’s on the money.
“It’s funny he mentioned Burt Bacharach because I wasn’t long back from meeting him in the States… Sorry, that was an appalling bit of name-dropping!” she laughs again. “I just got this message out of the blue one day saying, ‘Burt loves the record and wants you to sing for him.’ So, the next thing I know I’m in this very nice house with a garden the size of a county and two beautiful waterfalls. It was like meeting the Dalai Lama or something – I’m a huge fan and he lived up to all my expectations.”
The first time Rumer came on to the Clarkian radar was when Later… With Jools Holland majordomo Mark Cooper raved – and I mean raved! – to me about her at this year’s Hot Press Music Show in the RDS.
“Really? There’s no way things would have taken off as quickly as they have done for me without Mark’s support,” she enthuses. “What I hadn’t realised until recently is that he thought about inviting me on four or five years ago after seeing me in a pub, but decided against it because the odd gig aside I didn’t have anything going on. He was absolutely right. The 27-year-old me would have gone, ‘Fuck it, I need the break now!’ but it would have been pointless without an album to back it up.”
Before deciding to go it alone, Rumer – or Sarah as she was still known then – was one-quarter of a psych-folk outfit called La Honda whose gorgeous take on the Flaming Lips’ ‘Moth In The Incubator’ can still be found on their dormant MySpace. It’s accompanied by a potted history of the band, which refers to Rumer and her bandmate boyfriend Dave “being similar to Richard Burton and Liz Taylor… the bust ups, the walk outs, the shouting. Sarah and Dave split up and the band tried to play together. Meantime, Sarah was starting to get shitty with Malcolm about his control freakery. It all came to a spectacular head when playing a homecoming gig in the Gypsy Hill Tavern one fateful evening. Sarah tried to assert her new found independence by dedicating a song to an Italian boy she had recently met on holiday. A pissed Dave leapt up from behind his kit and started throwing Sarah’s shoes out the window, at which point the pub descended on the stage and tables turned over, chairs flew and the band were promptly thrown out.”
Has Rumer read this?
“Er, yes.”
How much of it’s true?
“All of it, unfortunately. My Liz Taylor past is coming back to haunt me!”
Given Seasons Of My Soul’s deliciously understated vibe, you may be surprised – and a trifle concerned – to learn that Rumer’s bezzie mates with those country acid house muthafuckas Alabama 3.
“They’re lovely… but dangerous! I love Rob, the lead singer. He’s actually a very beautiful soul.”
Have they worked together?
“I had a little project with an Irish poet called Stefan Clark – I used to play the guitar and he’d recite – which you can listen to at www.myspace.com/thegateproject. One of my all-time favourite gigs was in this place in Dublin called The Conservative Club, which was an old workingman’s hangout. Anyway, Rob did some recording with us.”
‘Tis an incestuous rock ‘n roll world we live in. Rumer’s Irish connections don’t end there.
“My brother’s wife is from Offaly and my Mum’s family is from Frankfort Avenue in Rathgar, Dublin 6.”
Is she any good at football?
“No, I’m not very sporty.”
That’s a shame. So, how’s she feeling after her 45-minute psychotherapy session with Dr. Clark?
“I’m probably more content now than I’ve ever been,” she concludes. “I’ve got great people around me, the album’s turned out exactly the way I wanted it to and at 31, I think I’m ready for whatever the next couple of years are going to throw me.”
Don’t you just love a happy ending?

Rumer’s Seasons Of My Soul is out now on Atlantic.