Corinne Bailey Rae on life, culture and her new album

Corinne Bailey Rae: Yes. The music director at the church I attended had a radical approach. He asked us, the young people, what we wanted to talk and sing about. So we made up songs. He bought me my first electric guitar.

He would ask, "Is God the train driver, the tracks, or a passenger? How does the divine interact?’ I developed a capacious faith, and I could play music as I wanted. 

When my first record came out you had to go to a store and buy it, or hope it came on the radio. Today, people watch more than listen. You can watch YouTube, or stream for free. New artists don’t make money from recording, so they might tour or get sponsorship. You become a cool artist, that brings heat, and you can then commodify.

That affects the type of people getting a platform. Artists are now expected to be beautiful, take a great photo, have the right amount of controversy, and be active on social media, not just make songs. You could argue this is a loss to music-making. 

Music takes me outside myself. It connects me to the past, the future, the eternal. It is transcendent. At the same time, it is coming through me, pushing out all the gritty things inside, so I feel most myself onstage. 

The south side of Chicago has been a thriving middle-class white area, a middle-class black area but now has mass unemployment, poverty, and is a food desert. At the centre is this beautiful gothic bank, saved from demolition and full of historic archives and visual art, mostly by black American artists.

Sixteen thousand books live there as well as problematic objects from America’s past—racist ephemera that have been taken out of circulation. It feels like the centre of the world for things I am interested in. 

There is a range of feelings. I found questions in intellectual writings. How do we deal with the African diasporan people? Some writers think we should turn inwards and reject everything outside blackness and protect ourselves, others think we should embrace and integrate with cultures we find ourselves in.

It is an old argument but how do we make a safe space for black people? The rainbow idea indicates many voices and represents the spectrum of music on the album. I am telling stories using my lens. 

Absolutely, I heard that too—like a prayer bowl. Swirling, reflection, prayer, and meditation are strong elements. In history, so much is written and known but a lot is unknown and in the minds of people.

I wanted the record to be quite cosmic and weird. There are more and more questions, fewer answers but more wonder so I wanted a sense of spectral opening up, and wonder. 

Something creative for sure—I am drawn to expression. Perhaps not a visual artist but maybe a writer.

I studied English Literature, and the Arts Bank also allowed me to indulge my interests. All that history—where do the stories come from? How can I expand on universal subjects?

When I was widowed at 29, it was the end of a certain kind of innocence, but grief is somehow rich and the lessons profound. I feel very grateful to have found another someone, fallen in love, married, and had children.

I feel grounded, I have survived. I am lucky to travel with my mother, husband, and children and see so many incredible places.  

I think the greatest gift is knowing your vocation, so I hope they come to discover their passion and then so many other questions are answered. 

I read, I love clothes and films. I go to exhibitions and like to hear other people talking about things. Holidays where you wear the same clothes every day, good food and simple things.

Black Rainbows is available for pre-order now.