After more than 30 years of singular, forward-thinking music, Kate Bush is looking back. Sort of. The British iconoclast's new album, Director's Cut, re-imagines songs from her own The Sensual World (1989) and The Red Shoes (1993) with new vocals and drums mixing in with the original recordings. A few songs-- including a glacial, near-ambient take on her classic "This Woman's Work"-- have been re-recorded entirely. Leave it to Kate Bush to subvert the typical aging-pop-star reissue cycle. (Director's Cut is out today, May 16, in the UK and May 23 in the U.S. on Bush's own Fish People imprint; it's currently streaming in full at NPR.)
Though she crashed onto the UK charts with 1978's "Wuthering Heights"-- becoming the first woman to nab a British no. 1 hit with her own song-- and was an early music video innovator, Bush has retreated from the spotlight since. She's released only two albums of new material since 1990, but the 52-year-old singer/songwriter/producer/director is currently working on another record, though she's keeping details to herself at the moment. And while Bush famously hasn't toured since 1979, she's currently taking a "never say never" stance on future live performances. But even if Kate Bush never released another new song or graced another stage, her legacy and influence is remarkably strong, with current descendants like Florence and the Machine and Bat for Lashes owing much to her unique brand of pop mysticism.
We recently spoke with Bush-- who sounded as warm and wise as you'd hope-- about her intriguing new release, the ambiguities of modern technology, and the creepiness of clowns.
Pitchfork: You don't seem like an artist who takes much time to look back on your previous work. Did revisiting your own songs on Director's Cut bring up an internal conflict?
Kate Bush: There's always an internal conflict. [laughs] I don't really listen to my old stuff at all; the last time I heard the whole of The Sensual World was probably just after I made it. We just remastered The Red Shoes 10 days ago, which was the first time I heard it completely since it was made. I hear odd tracks from my albums every now and again on the radio, or maybe a friend plays me something. I don't think a lot of people listen to their old stuff, do they? I spent a long time making it, so I don't really want to spend much time listening to it again.
Pitchfork: If you hadn't really listened to The Sensual World and The Red Shoes at all, how did you even know that you wanted to remake the songs?
KB: For a few years, I've wanted to pick tracks off both albums and make them sound the way I would want them to if I made them now. At the time, I was really pleased with them; I wouldn't have put them out if they weren't the best I could do. I thought the odd tracks that I did hear from The Red Shoes had a bit of an edgy sound, which may be due to the digital equipment that everyone was using then and that a lot of people still use now. But I've always been a big fan of analog, and I wanted to try and warm up the sound of the tracks from that album. Then again, it was interesting actually hearing the whole of Red Shoes-- it actually wasn't as bad as I thought.
I mean, I could find faults with all my albums because that's just a part of being an artist-- it's hard being a human being, isn't it? [laughs] With both albums, there were a lot of ambitious ideas as well, so I was working on top of work that had already been done. I didn't have to start from scratch, so it was really something I did for myself as a kind of exercise. Although the songs are old, it's like a new record to me.
Pitchfork: The Red Shoes came out in 1993, the heyday of the compact disc. Were you recording specifically for that format?
KB: Yeah, that's absolutely right. It probably was my first album that was specifically a CD as opposed to vinyl. Red Shoes was a bit long-- which was also a part of this whole problem with the change from vinyl to CD. I think that put a lot of strain on artists, actually. With CDs, you suddenly didn't want to let people down so you tried to give them as much as possible for their money. [laughs] I didn't really feel that there were any filler tracks on The Red Shoes, but if I were to do that album now, I wouldn't make it so long.
The great thing about vinyl is that if you wanted to get a decent-sounding cut, you could really only have 20 minutes max on each side. So you had a strict boundary, and that was something I'd grown up with as well. Also, you were able to have different moods on each side, which was nice.
Pitchfork: It kind of worked out because by the time you followed up The Red Shoes with Aerial in 2005, people were buying vinyl again.
KB: [laughs] I don't know about that. There was a resurgence, but it's certainly not the main format that people buy music on. In 2005, it was still CDs. I guess you're lucky if people actually buy a CD now.
The covers of Kate Bush's nine albums:
Pitchfork: Visually, your own image isn't featured on your more recent album covers as it once was. Why is that?
KB: That always used to be the traditional approach for a record, and, with the first couple, it wasn't even a question. I was involved with the artwork and the ideas, but it was just what everybody did. But with Aerial, I felt like I had an opportunity to actually do something with the artwork that is more tied-in with the music-- you can almost put visual references to what's going on in the music. That was something I always used to love when I'd go buy albums as a kid. When you'd buy vinyl, you'd have this lovely-sized object with a lovely picture, and you'd read the lyrics and usually there was something artistic that went with it.
One album cover that really stood out for me was Donovan's record, HMS Donovan. It's a wonderful album, really quite magical, one of his best, and the artwork on it was very imaginative and it did very much tie into the musical content. I used to spend a lot of time just looking at it. Again, I felt that was a bit of a disappointment when the whole shift from albums to CDs happened, because you've got this slightly more convenient disc, but it did diminish its visual impact as well as its sense of worth. There was something about having this 12" disc-- it even smelled nice.
Pitchfork: Do you still buy new albums?
KB: Not very often, but occasionally. The last one I bought was the Elton John/Leon Russell album, [The Union]. I think it's great.
Watch the video for 1989's "The Sensual World":
Listen to the Director's Cut version of "The Sensual World", redubbed "Flower of the Mountain":
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Pitchfork: You got permission to use part of James Joyce's Ulysses for the new version of "The Sensual World". What's your relationship with that book?
KB: I've only read it once-- it was a really long time ago, and it took me a really long time to read it. [laughs] The original idea for the song was to use part of the soliloquy at the end of the book, but I couldn't get permission. It was always a bit of a compromise to me when I had to go and write my own lyrics, which were OK but nowhere near as interesting as the original idea. So when I was putting the ideas together for this project, I though it was worth a shot to ask again-- they could only say no again. And, to my great surprise and delight, I was given permission. To actually be able to fulfill that original idea was fantastic.
Pitchfork: Did you take that green light as a sign that you were on the right track with this entire project?
KB: [laughs] No. When I started this project, I thought it was going to be really easy, simple, and quick. Then, quite early on, I just thought: "It's not going to work." I couldn't find my way in. For instance, the original vocals had an awful lot of work put into them at the time, and I wasn't really sure that I could better them-- I don't know if I have bettered them. But what I found was by lowering the key of most of the tracks, I could suddenly approach them in a different way. That was one of the first turning points.
Also, working with Steve Gadd, who did all the drums on the tracks that have a rhythm section, was a great experience because I've been a fan of his work for a long time, and his interpretation of music is quite extraordinary. He has a great subtlety in his approach, and he's someone who isn't afraid to leave stuff out.
Pitchfork: Listening to Director's Cut, a few of the songs that struck me the most were the ones where you took out big chunks of instrumentation. What was the logic behind that?
KB: There were some good songs on those albums that perhaps weren't speaking the way that they could, so I just wanted to let them breathe a bit more. One of the main things was to strip out a lot of the tracks and, in some cases, lengthen them in order to let the original musicians' performances shine out a bit more, too.
"Moments of Pleasure" (1993)
"Moments of Pleasure" (2011)
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Pitchfork: For songs like "Moments of Pleasure" or "This Woman's Work"-- which are already about longing and looking back-- did you take into account the intervening years since they were originally released, while you were recording them from this new perspective 20 years later?
KB: I feel like I did that with all the tracks. Those two in particular are, in some ways, the most intimate tracks on the record. I wasn't really quite sure how "Moments of Pleasure" was going to come together, so I just sat down and tried to play it again-- I hadn't played it for about 20 years. I immediately wanted to get a sense of the fact that it was more of a narrative now than the original version; getting rid of the chorus sections somehow made it more of a narrative than a straightforward song.
Pitchfork: It's funny to think of these new versions as half-remembrances of the originals.
KB: [laughs] With most of them, I knew I wanted to just strip them out more instead of it being quite compressed. Since all the writing and arrangement work-- which is quite an intense process-- had been done, it was more about trying to re-approach the production.
Pitchfork: A lot of the songs you picked for Director's Cut are pretty personal, and there seems to be less theatricality involved compared to the originals. Do you feel like the distance between your more performative side and your more personal side has changed through the years?
KB: [laughs] Oh, that's a really deep question. I don't know how to answer that because I'm always in the process, but hopefully I'm starting to get the hang of how to put it all together more. Sometimes when I look back on myself on those earlier records, there was so much effort going in, so much trying. With this, I was trying to make it much more laid back.
Pitchfork: Right now, there are a lot of young artists taking cues from what you've done in the past. Are you aware of things like that?
KB: I don't keep track of a lot of it, but this is what people have been telling me. I'm very flattered. I spend a lot of time working and with my family, so I don't have much time around the edges to do much else. I don't really listen to a great deal of music. I love music, but since I spend a lot of time in the studio, we probably watch a movie rather than listen to albums. I get to hear stuff, but not on the grand scale.
Pitchfork: So you're still in the studio on a day-to-day basis?
KB: Yeah, I have been for a while now, because [Director's Cut] has been ready for quite some time. Although there were a lot of ongoing loose ends with this album, like the mastering and artwork, I went straight into making a new record when I finished it. I'm really enjoying working on new material. Director's Cut is kind of a one-off rather than a continuous revisiting of old stuff.
Pitchfork: I read an old interview about how you had 200 songs going into the studio to record your first album, but at this point, it seems safe to say you're more interested in taking the time to get a handful of songs right.
KB: It's just a completely different process now. When I was first writing, I used to sit at the piano and play songs-- I'd write one or two a night. It was my hobby. At some point, it then became a process that was mainly done within the context of the studio, and writing became part of the recording process. I still sometimes just write songs at the piano, and then of course it's taken into the studio and it becomes very different.
Pitchfork: Director's Cut is being released on your new imprint, Fish People. Why did you decide to start your own label now?
KB: Previously, I wasn't in a position to do so, but now I'm delighted with my own label because it means that I have more creative freedom, which is really what I want. Although I've always had a lot of creative freedom since my third album. But now, I don't have to refer to people at the record company for certain decisions that I might have before. In many ways, it's probably quite a subtle change. But with something like [the new "Deeper Understanding"] video, I really wanted to direct it without being in it and make it like a short film as opposed to a music video. That might have been something the record company would have questioned before.
"Deeper Understanding" (1989)
"Deeper Understanding" (2011)
Pitchfork: Was it a relief not to have to star in the "Deeper Understanding" video?
KB: Yeah, it was great. We had such a laugh. When I'm not in a video a lot, I can really be more ambitious with the direction. It's very difficult to direct and be in a video. I was really able to stand outside of it and use actors I was delighted to have get involved. I was really blown away by Robbie Coltrane's performance.
Pitchfork: That song and video bring up this ambiguity about technology. In the video, it doesn't seem like a lot of positive things come out of the computer program at the center of it. But, at the same time, I feel like there's a reason why you chose to have your 12-year-old son voice that program.
KB: The idea is that the computer program is extremely positive and brings compassion and understanding to this person whose life is not very happy. When he electrocutes himself because he didn't put the plug and the wires together properly, he has this near-death experience and, initially, everyone's being really nice to him and he gets the sense that they're understanding him. And then, suddenly, they're not. It wasn't really meant to be a connection with the computer as much as a lovely dream that is no longer lovely. The computer program comes and brings him back to life. It's meant to be a very kindly presence.
Pitchfork: But, ultimately, the program leads the main character to kill somebody, too.
KB: Well, does it lead him or is it just him? It's more to do with him as a person-- this jealous rage. He wanted to go and get the program back. So they're reunited at the end, and maybe there's a suggestion that it's got a slightly more sinister edge. [laughs]
Pitchfork: I thought the part where that clown pops up out of nowhere in the middle of the video was particularly creepy.
KB: Clowns are always creepy!
Pitchfork: What was your original inspiration for "Deeper Understanding" in the 80s?
KB: Even back then, it was obvious that computers were going to become more a part of our lives, and they will continue to unless something dramatic happens to change that. When I first wrote that song, I was in the studio with a lot of computer technology. I was working with the Fairlight, which was the first sampling machine and was actually quite the computer, though I tended to only use it on the surface. So I was around all this technology, and the song was about this contradiction of technology bringing a person more love and humanity than their own contact with actual people. Perhaps it's something that people can relate to more now because we all have computers in our own homes eating up our time.
Pitchfork: Are there any examples of computer programs that you use now that offer a benevolent effect, like the one in "Deeper Understanding"?
KB: Um, no. [laughs] It would be nice if there were a program like the one in the song. I think computers are fantastic tools-- how we can all communicate so quickly. There's lots of incredibly positive things about having that at the touch of a finger-- you have something you can use in emergencies, you can go fishing and still talk to people in the office [laughs]-- but it's also something that's becoming so time-consuming. Everyone is too busy, myself included. The beginning of that was mobile phones, where suddenly people were expecting to get a hold of somebody all the time. Before that, there was this allowed time off. We had this rather silly idea that it would be something that gave us more time, but it actually doesn't.
"This Woman's Work" (1987)
"This Woman's Work" (2011)
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Pitchfork: You mentioned preferring analog to digital recording, but "Deeper Understanding" has a very modern-sounding vocal effect on the chorus. As a producer, do you keep track of what's going on now as far as tools and advancements?
KB: I try to. My studio is a fantastic combination of old and new, and that's how I've always liked to work. But now, the new is newer, and old remains old. I like to work with a combination of analog and Pro Tools. I love the sound of analog tape, but there's so many things you can do with Pro Tools that would be incredibly difficult and very time-consuming with analog.
When I originally did "Deeper Understanding", I wanted the computer program to have a single voice so that it was a single entity, but at the time, there was only a pretty basic vocoder so I had to use backing vocals to make the words audible. This time, I could use a truly computerized voice that would stand alone. This album would've been possible to do entirely analog, but it would've been really difficult.
Pitchfork: We were talking about Ulysses before, and it's wild to think how James Joyce wrote such an incredibly dense work without all this technology we take for granted now. It seems even more super-human.
KB: Maybe we don't realize how crafted a lot of these people were; maybe there was this element of realization. There are some extraordinary human beings who have worked in the arts who did it all by themselves. Mozart didn't have Pro Tools, but he did a pretty good job.
