The singer, songwriter and actress talks Thomas Turner through the songs that have soundtracked her life.
Between her leading roles in Broadway and presently on the West End, an illustrious repertoire of sitcom appearances, and a revolutionary modelling career that began as the first Black woman to win Miss America in 1984, music has always been integral to the 90’s R&B star.
“I hope people will take away the appreciation of beauty that I have for producing, arranging, instrumentation, and songwriting. The love of a melody. The love of expression. Painting a scene with music and having a depth of purpose: why are we here and where do we want to go?”
Having forty-five minutes of Vanessa Williams’ time is nothing short of a miracle, and sitting down with her to talk about the songs she loves is a radiant antidote to an otherwise gloomy Halloween Friday. Defining what it truly means to be a multi-hyphenate, she is currently starring as the infamous Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada, eight shows a week, with her run recently extended to April.
It’s by no means the first high-powered woman Williams has played, and there is not a chance it will be her last. “I would have to say that over the past forty years I have tended to be cast in many roles as a powerful woman, whether it be the editor of a fashion magazine, or a commander in some military operation, or a lawyer", she explains.
"I guess that’s how I’m seen. That’s an easy way for a casting director to say, ‘We know she can do it.’ This is basically my skillset.”
The show itself, adapted from the book and 2006 film of the same name, indeed seems the perfect casting call for Williams, melding her diverse worlds of music, acting, and fashion into one seminal role.
“It ticks off all the boxes”, she agrees. “Musicals are my all-time favourite, because I get a chance to combine everything that I love - singing, dancing, acting - all in front of a live audience.” She does laugh, however, at the suggestion of adding another of her passions into the performance, such as the French horn she learnt to play from childhood; “That will never happen.”
It’s barely a minute into our conversation and Williams’ adoration for songcraft and musical storytelling is abundantly clear. Talking through her pre-show ritual - that there should always be music playing in the dressing room - she explains, “it can be anything from salsa to Brazilian samba, to The Police or The Cars, to Zeppelin, to Al Green… I’m pretty much all over the place.”
This eclectic amalgam of genres and moods is palpable in the Nine Songs choices she brings to the table today. She is quick, however, to make sure that she prefaces the conversation that she could never lock in her selection as “the most pivotal”, but these songs are simply “nine for now, because music is extremely impactful in every aspect of your life.”
“I was a musician as well,” Williams reminisces on the experiences she pulled from in embarking on her own music career, spawning hit singles “The Right Stuff” and “Save The Best For Last” and having released her ninth studio album last year. “I played in the orchestra, the band, the marching band, choir… I used to sing with the Westchester Youth Jazz Ensemble.”
It is clear that musicianship is simply in her bones. “Both my parents were music teachers, so I had a wealth of opportunities and avenues to select from, and also the music in my house. My dad played everything, Bill Withers, The Beatles, gospel and my mother loved Johnny Mathis, and Roberta Flack. The playbook of my life is very wide, so I was choosing from what reminds me of high school and growing up.”
“Colour My World” by Chicago
VANESSA WILLIAMS: I was in my living room when I first heard this song. My dad was an instrumental music teacher in elementary school locally, so not only did he play every instrument, but he also did lessons at our house after school. There was always a clarinet going upstairs, and my mum teaching piano downstairs, and a trumpet somewhere.
My dad would play alongside the students; if it was sax, both of them would be playing sax. Music was always abundant in the household. He loved brass. Back in the ‘70s, like Earth, Wind, & Fire, everyone would have a horn section, and the arrangements were very cool. Chicago was one of his favourites.
“Colour My World” is a sad song, and the reason I picked it was when my dad died unexpectedly at 70 years old, I was taken back to the beauty of the song and the sadness that connects.
BEST FIT: I mean, that’s the power of music isn’t it? The memories conjured, especially by that flute solo right at the start of the song. It’s such an emotive arrangement.
That’s what my dad used to play. He used to play flute, I remember him doing Jean-Pierre Rampal and all of these Irish flutists [imitates the tune]. So flute, between this and Jethro Tull, it gets me every time.
“Reelin’ In the Years” by Steely Dan
This song is just the ‘70s, which is my middle school to high school years. Now that I’m 62, the lyrics “Are you reelin' in the years? / Stowin' away the time / Are you gatherin' up the tears? / Have you had enough of mine?” are so… [takes a breath and pulls back], it’s all going so quickly.
The locomotion of the track, it feels like you’re just moving, moving, moving, and that’s what I feel life is. Oh my god, I remember when I was in my 20s… then my 40s… now I’m in my 60s. How did I get here? This song is a broad umbrella of life and the propulsion of moving forward. I enjoy having options for sure. I enjoy a career that isn’t the same all the time, so I love it. I thrive on it.
Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen is known for “just being honest.” How far does that statement resonate with you and your music career?
Well, I would have loved to be able to sit in that, but unfortunately, I think when you’re signed to a label, on one hand it’s great because you’ve got somebody who is paying for everything, which is the burden that most upstarts have trying to get their music out there.
But there’s compromise - “It’s not pop enough,” “I don’t really hear it,” “We don’t have enough room for it on the album.” That’s when you have to make decisions which you’ve got to compromise on. I wish I didn’t have to do it as much in my career, but that’s what you do.
The last album that I did, Survivor, was one that I produced and put out on my own label. I was signed to BMG, and they dropped me and a bunch of other artists with their new configuration, so I had tracks that were already done that I was ready to move ahead with. Survivor was half of what I wanted to do, and half what I was gearing up to release.
So I think there’s certainly much more freedom now, putting it out myself, but then the burden is getting it heard. The amount of money you have to pay to promote is insane, and that’s why the machine of having a big record company works.
“Billy the Kid Suite” by Aaron Copeland
My parents would have the summer off. Not only was my dad a musician, but he was an amazing carpenter, a great gardener, he could do anything.
He built our holiday house in The Poconos in Pennsylvania which was about a two-hour drive from our house in New York. We had a Ford Econoline van. The first one was blue, the second one was white, and we would go on these two and a half hour trips to the Poconos.
Back in the day there were gigantic 8-track cassettes with an 8-track player. Aaron Copland was my dad’s favourite classical composer so we would listen to “Billy the Kid Suite”.
As educators, my parents never let us say we were bored. They would give us a new project, and that was never an option. But the trick was triggering mine and my brother’s imagination. This orchestra does that. You can hear the gun shots, you can imagine what’s happening in each particular section. It’s a great tool for engaging your mind in imagination.
It’s such a beautiful, vivid piece. Is there a section in particular you are most connected to?
The “Appalachian Spring”, which sounds like the prairie, the expanse of America first being discovered by the frontiersmen. That kind of expanse is what is beautiful, and you can imagine the deer, and the buffalo, the plains. It just reminds you of old Westerns. It’s calming.
“There’s Nothing Like This” by Omar
I discovered Omar when I was over here in London in ‘92 and I was promoting my Comfort Zone album. I heard him on the radio, and I wanted to know ‘Who is this guy?’ I’ve been a fan ever since, and I love everything he does. Everything is downloaded.
I actually got a chance to work with him for my next album, which was in ’96, and unfortunately the track got cut, but I loved it and now I can’t find a copy of it to even play it. There were so many cassette tapes and CDs, so I don’t know where it is. I’m sure he might have it stored somewhere.
I just love Omar’s musicianship. He’s a great singer but again, talk about horn sections! His arrangements are unusual, his melodies are so memorable, and he’s got a very warm, inviting voice. I’d love to work with him again in the future. I’m here! I’ll do it again!
One of my favourite Omar stories is that Prince Charles, obviously now King, asked him to personally deliver his next album to Buckingham Palace. It reminded me that you’ve met seven presidents and the Pope. What does your Christmas card list look like these days?”
...and I did meet King Charles last year actually, at the Pride of Britain Awards so I can add him to the list. That’s the best thing about being in music, I’ve been able to perform with so many people. Pavarotti, Plácido Domingo, for presidents in various programmes and Christmas concerts. It’s all been a real privilege.
“Alright” by Ledisi
I know Ledisi, I’ve met her before. I love this track because it’s that common, ‘Girl, we’ve been through it and we’re still here’ narrative. It hasn’t really connected with me regarding difficulties with a relationship, but more the kinship that I feel with Ledisi as another singer.
It’s sitting in our pride and knowing that we’re going to get through this. We know we can because of who we are. It’s an affirmation of we know we’re bad ass, and we know we’re going to continue to be.
In light of Ledisi’s affirmation, “life can bring us through many changes, it’s alright,” do you employ any practices to stay on the right track and blur out distractions?
Don’t hang on to the past. I know a lot of people do, and there’s trauma in the world, yes. There’s trauma in your past, yes. There’s things that haunt you, yes. Move forward, keep moving forward, and believe that every twenty-four hours is a new day and an opportunity to release and shed.
When Ledisi says, “it’s going to be alright”, even with sorrow and loss and death, they are extraordinarily painful, and everyone deals with them and is confronted by them on a daily basis but moving forward is the key.
You’re not forfeiting any of the trauma or any of your history that makes you, you. It still all adds up, but do not get tethered to the misery and the darkness.
“Baby, I Love Your Way” by Peter Frampton
Peter Frampton used to live close to where I grew up, so there’d be sightings of him in the Goodie shop – our local ice cream shop where you can get some ice-creams, a malt, a milkshake, that stuff. Everyone was always on the lookout, ‘Oh my god, Peter Frampton’s in Mount Kisco at the Goodie shop,’ ‘Did anyone get a chance to see him in his convertible?’ whatever it was, ‘Mercedes.’ That was the legend.
This track is just the anthem for the ‘70s. For starters it’s live, and people feel compelled to sing along. It just brings joy. It crossed all kinds of barriers, and is an illustration that melodies mean something. I love great dance tunes but when there’s a melody that everyone can sing along with and it’s stuck in your brain like an earworm, that’s a good thing. And that’s “Baby, I Love Your Way”.
The live quality of this track is so ephemeral, with the crowd whistling and shouting as it ends. It’s a certain euphoria. How has the experience of live performance changed your own music making?
Live performances… I’ve been able to do so many types of venues. My first big tour was an arena tour with Luther Vandross, so that’s working with tens of thousands of people and being an opening act to a legend who was lovely to me and is one of my good friends.
That’s a different kind of expanse entirely, comparing say Madison Square Garden to small venues. I’m doing 54 Below in February which I’ve done once before. It’s a dinner club, you can see everyone in the room, and you can hear every breath. Everything depends on the audience, and I’ve been lucky enough to experience both extremes, but connecting with people is always integral.
I’ve done concert halls; I sang the national anthem at the Superbowl which you know can’t get any bigger; I performed at the Academy Awards when I sang “Colours of the Wind” and it won an Oscar. There’s been so many opportunities to perform to so many different types of audiences. It’s all thrilling.
It’s harder nowadays though. There’s so many cameras recording everything, you have to put up a safety shield of sorts. You can’t really be one hundred percent authentic anymore.
“Under the Moon and Over the Sky” by Angela Bofill
I remember hearing Angela Bofill on WRVR when I was in high school. It was a radio station in New York that I guess you’d consider as playing progressive jazz fusion. It’d have Pat Metheny, Angela Bofill, Anita Baker - when she first came out, “Angel” was considered very jazzy - Jeff Lorber.
Then getting the cassette tape of Angie and playing it in my yellow Lancia Beta coupe (which was fantastic). She did one song called “I Try” which was in 6/8 time, and had a soulful blues approach. I just like the freedom they produced her vocals in. She didn’t sound like anybody else.
And also back then, you had Natalie Cole which was the same thing. She could do “This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)” which was straight up R&B, but then she could swing anything jazz. It’s the same with Chaka [Khan]. You would hear those on the radio because there was much more freedom and diversity in genres compared to nowadays, when you hear the same types of song over and over again.
I didn’t get to meet Angela Bofill like the others, unfortunately, but she was one of my favourites. I loved Angela’s approach to singing. How ethereal and otherworldly, the mood it always put me in. And I tend to like singers that tell a story, when you can close your eyes and be taken away. When you can actually visualise what they’re painting with their vocals and also the music.
Don’t get me wrong, beats are great, and dancing is great, but in dance music there are people who tell stories as well. I like to know where you are taking me and what I can imagine.
“Can We Change the World?” by Maysa
Why am I drawn to Maysa? She’s with that whole British Incognito, Maysa, Omar clique. The music is R&B with a jazz approach and fantastic arrangements.
Her voice is so warm, it’s like pouring gooey caramel and chocolate on something so delicious that it just melts in your mouth. It’s rich, it’s the best. And talk about authenticity, you just hear her soul, her wisdom, and the depth in her approach to singing.
Unfortunately, the world is still complicated. This song is still a call to action, and asking that important question of are we really making a difference? Is it ever going to change? It’s a great declaration.
Would you say you’re a believer that music can be a conduit for change?
Oh, absolutely. Artists can say, and paint, and show, and illustrate things that other people cannot, and they have the freedom to speak until they’re killed or shut down. They express themselves through theatre, through music, through art, through spoken word. There’s many ways to revolt and demand change.
“Hit the Ceiling” by Lion Babe
My middle daughter, Jillian, is Lion Babe. I’ve got two that are recording artists, Jillian and my youngest Sasha Fox who just came out with her music last year.
“Hit The Ceiling" is a fantastic dance track. Jillian was a dancer her whole life so when she performs, and she does show off every time I’m watching her live, people are surprised at both her singing and her dance technique. She’ll do a triple turn and then kick her leg up to the ceiling which leaves people in awe. I love when she can throw her dance training into the performance, and not just anything, a proper combination that shows her skill.
This track is an illustration of her watching my career, and of course she’s had doubts whether she should be doing it and whether people would compare her, but she did it and she’s great at it. She’s unapologetic. She doesn’t mind any comparison and isn’t running away from what I’ve established as an artist because we’re different. She’s hit the ceiling, and there are no limits. I’m so happy to see her become the entertainer and woman that she is.
You’ve built such distinct careers, but the one thing that combines the two of you is that your talent is unboxable. How did you instill this in your children growing up?
My children came with me almost everywhere: on tour, the recording studio, the dressing room on Broadway, my trailer on a TV set. They knew the level of work that I had to do, the time that it took and the dedication that I gave to my career. The whole ‘nepo-baby’ thing [shakes her head] they’ve worked their behinds off to get to where they need to be, and I’m just happy that they appreciate the work and are also strong enough and willing to do it.
Growing up, myself and my brother had to take instruments. I played piano and French horn until I graduated, my brother played oboe and bari sax until he graduated, and my kids all had to do it as well. We’ve kept the tradition going on. Melanie played clarinet, Jillian played trumpet, my son played sax, and Sasha played piano and now plays bass as well.
I’m always just mum to them. It’s very easy to give advice, but instead of giving advice, I try to have them figure it out for themselves. I’ll be a great sounding board, but it’s always up to them.
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