Meg Washington: ‘Why make art at all? What's the point? Sometimes I feel like the violinist on the Titanic'

The Guardian

2 days ago

Once, in a major label meeting, Meg Washington was given a directive: show us your face.
'They tell you when they sign you that you have to put your face on your album cover and your eyes need to be open, because that statistically sells the most records,' she says matter-of-factly. 'You know how posts with sunsets get more likes, or whatever? It's just some Gladwellian reality that if humans can see the eyeballs, they subconsciously connect more.'
She only half obeyed. On her platinum-selling, Aria-winning debut I Believe You Liar, Washington hid like a ghost behind a sheet – with holes cut out for eyes, to technically meet that requirement. For 2014's There There, a sketch artist drew thin, pencil renderings of her face; on 2020's Batflowers, her face was mostly covered by a cartoonish drawing of a flower.
But for her latest album, Gem, Washington has finally taken the advice she was given all those years ago: the cover is her gazing at the camera; no obscurity, no tricks, just her. It's ironic that she's finally submitted to major label logic, given Gem is her first original album as an independent artist, and the one most divorced from expectations of record sales.
'I had been signed to a major label for 13 years, which is a long time to be signed to a major label. And I found myself having to re-identify myself. Like, what is [music] to you? Is this something that you do because it's gonna have a fiscal impact? No, not at all,' she contemplates with a dry laugh.
Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning
I last spoke to Washington in 2020 for the release of Batflowers, her last album with Universal. It's been a busy few years. Since then, she has founded her own label, Batflowers Records; moved from her home town of Brisbane to the Gold Coast with her husband, film-maker Nick Waterman, and their son; released a cover of The Killers' album Hot Fuss; and continued her voice role on the hit kids' show Bluey (she plays Bluey's teacher Calypso). She even changed her moniker, for a third time: first she went by only her 'un-Googleable' last name, before adding on her first name for SEO purposes, and finally shortening Megan to Meg. But most of the last five years was spent on making her and Waterman's debut film, How To Make Gravy: an adaptation of Paul Kelly's beloved Christmas song that she penned the script for – and this new album, in 'stolen moments' here and there.
Today, we're sitting in the lobby of a Sydney hotel, where Washington is visiting for a run of shows. The combination of last night's gig and this morning's dawn photoshoot means she's running on just three hours of sleep, she tells me when we meet. Exhaustion hasn't dulled her natural intensity – this is someone unafraid to ask me point-blank what I liked about her new album and prone to countering my questions with her own. But there's warmth and humour too: she drops serious-but-silly one-liners like 'the dominant religion of capitalism is money – that shit is real,' and hangs around after the recorder is off to talk shoe shopping and parenting.
Last time we spoke, she was grappling with what happens to the music when you're happy – no longer in the turmoil of her 20s, which fueled her first two albums, but writing music from the quiet calm of marriage and motherhood. Is that still something she wrestles with?
'That's interesting,' she says, pausing to sip the green juice Waterman dropped off mid-interview, in an attempt to ward off tour sickness. 'This record is unique because now what I'm grappling with is a sense of the future. As a parent and as a person, looking into the future at the moment feels cloudy. I found myself really interrogating the question of, well, why make art at all? Like, what's the point? Sometimes I feel like the violinist on the Titanic.'
What is worth making music about right now, Washington decided, was a 'more outward interrogation of nature'.
She means 'nature' in a couple of senses. Most obviously, there's the natural world, which Washington sings about with awe on Gem. Directed by Waterman, the film clip to the woozy, tropical lead single Shangri-La – which could soundtrack The White Lotus now it's down a composer – sees Washington dance on a beach, waves crashing behind her, and in a rainforest framed by verdant green. The lyrics reference the sky, treetops, spiderwebs, seashells and flowers growing through the weeds.
It's not strictly a climate album, but then again, as Washington says: 'I don't think that anybody can make any art right now and not have that be threaded through what's going on.'
But Gem also weaves in her musings on her own nature and being an artist in the modern world. The pop idols we create out of teenagers ('We've got a brand-new Jesus / She's only 17'); her wish to 'live for more than money'; and even the lyric 'everybody's talking about superannuation'.
'I never thought I would put the word 'superannuation' in a song,' she laughs. But Washington found herself repeatedly writing about money because of how conflicted she feels about it. 'As an artist, you're not really motivated by money … but when you turn your passion or your joyful escape into your job, the garden can become a factory.'
But while there's lyrics about burning with anger and crying at the news ('don't you?'), Washington says Gem is actually 'a totally hopeful, future-facing, wide open album', intended as an oasis. Instead of giving in to pessimism, Washington decided to write what she wanted to be true – 'like a rapper!' Take, for instance, the line on the single Kidding where she triumphantly declares over a soaring beat that she 'believes in the future'.
'You can either sing, 'I feel really scared about the future, because America just elected Donald Trump'. Or you can go the other way, and say what is not so true right now, but maybe you would like to be,' she explains earnestly. 'What would you prefer to sing?'
The album's final track is Fine, a song that first appeared in How To Make Gravy, where it was sung by Brendan Maclean. This version features vocals from Washington and Paul Kelly himself. Collaborating with the legendary musician after adapting his song into a film was 'like a lovely bow on a grape', she says, in one of the unique turns of phrase Washington is prone to.
Washington already has another two albums written but not recorded. Because the more music she makes, the more she realises she has to give – even if she's just serenading the sinking ship.
'As I make each record, I'm wading deeper and deeper into the sea – that's what it feels like. And the more I go, the more I learn, and the more I learn, the more I want to do,' she says.
'I am a singing animal – I just do it. I just honk. And so I came to realise that If I was shipwrecked on a desert island with nobody around, I would sing all day.'
Gem by Meg Washington is out 8 August.
Sign up to Saved for Later
Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips
after newsletter promotion
Each month we ask our headline act to share the songs that have accompanied them through love, life, lust and death.
What was the best year for music, and what five songs prove it?
1997! Shania Twain's You're Still the One; Radiohead's No Surprises; Kylie Minogue's Did It Again; Bic Runga's Sway; and Leonardo's Bride's Even When I'm Sleeping.
What music do you clean the house to?
Graceland, by Paul Simon. Or Glen Campbell. Housework feels more romantic with a vintage feeling.
If your life was a movie, what would the opening credits song be?
Part of Your World, from the Little Mermaid.
What is your go-to karaoke song?
Valerie, by Amy Winehouse/The Zutons. You can mostly sing it by talking, and I like to chill at karaoke.
What's a song you can never listen to again?
Venus by Bananarama, I heard it so much in the car as a child that now when I hear it I feel instantly carsick, it's pavlovian.
What underrated song deserves classic status?
Solid Gold by Delta Goodrem. That song is huge.
What is a song you loved as a teenager?
I've always loved really dense, wordy songs that are almost a puzzle to figure out, like The Real Slim Shady, or One Crowded Hour by Augie March.
What is the first song/album you bought?
The Australian cast recording of Hot Shoe Shuffle, a tap dancing musical.
What is the best song to have sex to?
Anything instrumental, please!