Anna B Savage on Music, Movies, and the Joy of Tangents

The singer-songwriter discusses her eclectic influences, the evolving themes of her work, and the art of embracing imperfections on stage and beyond.

Anna B Savage is a great conversationalist. It’s the result of her many interests, especially those outside of music, all of which are coupled with an undeniable humility. As we sit down to discuss the new release of her album, You & i are Earth, Savage acknowledges that her interviews are known for their tangents and spiralling strands of conversation.

“If there’s one thing I’m good at,” Savage says, laughing, “it’s red herrings.”

Growing up in a musically rich environment, Savage sang from a young age, inspired by the powerful vocals of jazz singers and encouraged, too, by her parents who both enriched the household with their careers in classical music. Even Savage’s brother contributed to her creative by offering guitar lessons as she turned thirteen. Savage went on to become enamoured with artists like Nick Drake and Owen Pallett, musicians that inspired the trajectory of Savage’s own song writing.

“At risk of being too much a cliche,” Savage notes, “music feels like the most natural thing to me and I always felt that even when I was little.”

“I think my rebellion was not doing classical music, leaning more toward indie and pop. That was my equivalent of a rebellion. Or, not joining the choir for a couple of years. Then, I actually did join the choir and I was like Oh, shit, this is great. What have I been doing?”

A great deal of Savage’s early musical education also came from cinematic viewing, with the original soundtracks to films such as Notting Hill and Bridget Jones’ Diary opening her up to the likes of Bill Withers and Aretha Franklin. The CD scores would be played on repeat as Savage imitated the vocal work and nuances of such singers, allowing her to develop a vocal confidence, even without realising it at the time.

I ask if, reflecting on the value of those soundtracks, if there has been a film in which Savage felt her own music would be well-placed, or that her distinct voice may well-lend itself to.

“I have a very arse-y answer,” Savage considers, “but it’s just because I would love to have been in that world. It’s the Poor Things soundtrack, the Jerskin Fendrix one. It’s kind of uncanny, it’s quite weird. I feel like my voice is kind of uncanny and quite weird, and I would have loved to have warbled all over that.”

“That is a great answer,” I say, “and not the one I have predicted either.”

“Oh, yeah? What did you predict?” Savage asks.

“Call Me By Your Name.”

“Oh my god, I want to change my answer!” She laughs, “I was literally listening to that soundtrack yesterday, like that’s a big, big one for me. The piano, Sufjan Stevens, yes, one of my favourites. I love it.”

Savage goes on to talk about her playlists and how their genre-hopping form is also inspired by the arrangement of original film soundtracks, a quality that can be seen even as early as 2015, when Savage shared the mix Contains Instruments I Used To Play Then Gave Up and Wish I Hadn’t, a playlist that swings quickly from Tune-Yards and Beyonce to Nigel Short and Jethro Tull. 

“I need to go and find that mixtape; I have no idea what’s on it.” Savage says, “I think, because I grew up listening to film soundtracks, my idea of a mixtape is very different to what people think when they’re asking me for mixtapes. So, yeah, it’s always a bit harrowing for people listening, what the hell is going on here? This and then this and then this!”

Savage expands on the variety of her musical favourites, describing how, alongside an upbringing of jazz vocal classics there were also rapturous phases rocking out to Tenacious D and The Presidents of the United States of America. The musical styles of big band albums and comedy rock releases, despite being dramatically different from Savage’s own work, are both something that she would like to explore.

“They’re both very much on the cards. I want to do both of them. I think the comedy one, I don’t know if I can pull that off, so I might, like, do a comedy kids album because you can make kids laugh much easier than you can make adults laugh. But, yeah, both of those are seriously on my bucket list.”

Savage studied English literature and continues to celebrate the subject, not only as an ongoing and avid reader but also with a cherished book group. Discussing a reading list that Savage shared in 2014, one that contained names like Murakami, Kafka, and Franzen, she talks about how different her current reading habits are over ten years later.

“It’s funny, I think maybe a year or two years after that list, I decided to not read anything by a man,” Savage says, pausing, again, to consider, “I guess because studying literature at university, so much of the canon is male. It shifted my focus. Now, I read a lot more not by men. I try to read a lot that isn’t by white people, and more widely. And reading in translation.”

“Having said that, the most recent book I read was a book for my book club called Vulture Capitalism by Grace Blakeley. I found it incredibly difficult and feel really stupid. I don’t know if I’d recommend it unless you already have a solid grasp of economics. And, the book I read before that was Twilight, so, I’m really throwing all the stuff in there,” Savage laughs.

Savage’s book group has been running for several years, which is likely to be an impressive feat to many of those who are apart of such groups. Meeting throughout the year, Savage now often travels from Ireland to London to meet with her literary friends, ensuring she makes time in her schedule to get the group together. I ask for the secret to such a successful book club.

“Honestly, I think it is my dog-eared determination not to let it die and everyone else’s enthusiasm for it. We just love…” Savage cuts herself off. “Oh, also, maybe, and this might be a key one actually. It’s something I thought it was really mean when I did it but, after about a year, I closed the group, so no-one else could join.”

“Some people don’t feel as confident as other people speaking up, especially when there are new people around. That’s been something that’s really important. Everyone knows everyone now. I kind of, I guess, stole people from various parts of my life and joined them all together and it was at risk of ballooning and ballooning and ballooning, so I closed it, quite early on. I think that’s a big part of it. But, also, you know, my book club friends are fucking great.”

At the time of this interview, Savage is on tour with her latest album You & i are Earth. The tour began in Bristol’s central venue, the Bristol Beacon, with Savage playing alongside her bandmates and being supported by Cubzoa, also known as Jack Wolter. The gig was notable not only for its success but also for the harmony and warmth of the performers, especially Cubzoa who, in addition to his own supporting performance, was welcomed on stage multiple times through the gig, including for the finale. It was an endearing gesture of inclusivity, and a effort inspired by Savage’s own experience as a supporting artist for the likes of Father John Misty and Jenny Hval.

“Oh, it’s hugely important,” Savage exclaims. “At the beginning of the Father John Misty tour he was so warm and welcoming and wonderful. And, I didn’t realise how lucky that was. I would say to my musician friends, This is what Josh said to me and the bus, and they would say to me oh my god, that’s so nice! It really set me up for success.”

“It’s hard being a completely solo artist, touring round with a group of people who, you know, potentially love each other very dearly and have known each other, have been working and living together, on top of each other, for many years. So, especially the Father John Misty stuff, it felt really special.”

“It’s like my relationship with my label. The more I heard about the music business world and other labels, the luckier I felt. I already knew that I loved them but it’s solidifying. I feel so lucky to have had those experiences early on. It made me very much want to welcome people into the fold.”

“Also, it can be tricky the other way, because you have a specific eco-system that you’re trying to maintain and want everyone to be happy; bringing in new people can be discombobulating. It’s really interesting both ways around. I just try and do all the things as nicely as possible.”

Savage effort for cohesion was also clear during the Bristol Beacon gig for how elated the band were on stage, even embracing the absurdity of contributing backing vocals (or backing panting) to Savage’s track Pavlov’s Dog, mimicking a spirited dog’s heavy breathing into their microphones.

“I made both Joey and Gen do that,” Savage laughs, “and they were both like I cannot believe I’m doing this on stage!”

Within the humour of such gigs, however, Savage has historically been open about her anxieties associated with performing live and has even taken time away from the stage to navigate her experiences and confidence. During a lyrical mishap at the recent Bristol Beacon performance, a brief mistake that was fixed by the band’s riffing, one that would otherwise have gone unnoticed to many in the audience, Savage, took a moment in the intermission to explain that such as experience is her nightmare.

“What advice would you give to another artist experiencing anxieties associated with performances?” I ask.

“It’s really annoying, shit advice, but you just have to do it. There’s no way around it. Do all the open mic nights. Do all the shows you can. On stage at Bristol, I was saying that this is my nightmare and I think it was my nightmare a few years ago and it definitely didn’t feel great. But, when you have performed a lot, which I’ve been lucky enough to do now,” Savage pauses to think, “and although I still get fucking nervous and it’s really annoying and I wish I wasn’t quite so emotionally up and down, but you just realise that nothing is going to happen from it. No one’s gonna die. And you’re not gonna die. Even though sometimes it feels like you are. It’s not that bad.”

“My second ever gig, I was performing at my school, and my boyfriend at the time, who was two years above me and really cool, sat in my eye line. The very first thing that I did was to sing the first verse and try to take the microphone out because I knew that, well, people did that and it looked cool, then I hit myself in the face.”

Savage laughs about the memory and continues sharing others, including a time her hands froze up during a performance, her voice cracked, a time she tripped on stage, and an especially memorable loud disruption of the carefully dramatic atmosphere of an early tour also by hitting her head on a microphone. 

“The only thing I haven’t done, which I’m waiting to do, is, like, been sick on stage. Or accidentally wee myself, you know what I mean? I guess I’ve done it all and I know that everything’s fine. And, weirdly, the thing I’m realising is that when I fuck up, is that people seem to like it,” Savage laughs.

“If you can approach it with Fuck, I fucked up but with a smiley face, rather than my old version, which was basically self-flagellation to a horrible degree, people seem to like it and I guess it makes you more human.”

As a contemporary musician, presenting oneself to an audience goes beyond the stage and onto the platforms of social media. Artists are often, in a sense, obliged to navigate public profiles to better promote their work, both maintaining and growing a fanbase, even if they are reserved or reluctant. I wondered if Savage’s stage anxiety in any way translates into the digital realm.

“I think I feel a different anxiety, which is, not to be too bleak about it, but probably around safety. I’ve had some creepy experiences, with people basically combing through all my stuff online, and I think there’s a real danger of the para-social type thing.”

“For a couple of years, I didn’t want to do any social media because it’s shit. Now, I’m realising it kinda has to be done and you just have to find a way to do it. And, I guess, the ways I’m finding that feel more comfortable are…” Savage pauses to chase another thought, “like, I’m not going to do a speak-to-the-camera Hey, guys, it’s Anna B Savage, here’s a day in the life of me on tour, because that’s kind of horrifying to me, of me doing it. Other people do it, who I love, but me doing it fills me with dread.” 

“But, also, I don’t want to share that much about myself. I don’t want people to be able to see the background of my videos and figure out where I am. When I’m at home, I won’t post things until a few days after I’ve been there because I don’t want people being like Oh, that’s where she is. It’s quite a bleak answer, sorry about that.”

I look at my notes and consider the extent of my own research into Savage’s life, wondering about the implications of combing through a personal history.

“But that’s part of your job. It’s when people think that they’re fostering a relationship with me. I’ve had some weird experiences where people are like I can help you with X Y Z and it’s something I posted online four years ago. It’s so tricky. Sometimes it comes across really well, sometimes it’s like, okay, that’s past a point of comfort.”

Savage’s name had previously popped up in a Still Listening interview with Rozi Plain. The discussion had turned to Plain’s Dinked Edition vinyl release for her album, Prize, each edition of which included one of her signature wall calendars. When told that Savage’s Dinked Edition of A Common Turn included a vibrator, Plain laughed and then asked: “How does she fit that into a record sleeve?”

Savage describes that there were no other contending ideas for the vibrator’s inclusion. In fact, the whole process of having the sex toys made for a special vinyl release was apparently straightforward, and the Savage-branded pocket vibrator was even able to be made out of biodegradable plastic. 

“The only thing that was difficult,” Savage muses, “was explaining why it was there.”

“Obviously the whole album isn’t about self-pleasure. Well, it’s about self-love, I guess, in a way, but not quite so on the nose. I also knew I wanted it to be an eco-vibrator, so my wonderful label looked through, I think it was a German company, and worked it out. It was great.”

“I love that [Plain] loved that!” Savage laughs. “That she knows that that happened, and that I exist. I love her.”

Nearing the end of our conversation, we finally begin talking about the music of Savage’s latest album, You & i are Earth. It’s a delicately immense release, one that embraces the tidal pacing of a coastal folk, seeing Savage leave behind the shadowy theatrics of A Common Turn and in|Flux for a beguiling ballads. This shift of tone isn’t however, solely musical. A Common Turn is, as Savage says, explicitly about self-love and is a celebration of being single. You & i are Earth, however, is immediately demonstrative that Savage has found a romantic relationship.

It was, as such, rather funny to hear Savage open her tour with tracks from both A Common Turn and in|Flux, singing the lyrics I want to be alone / I’m happy on my own / Believe me and then I hope I never fall in love again, all before serenading the audience with genuine expressions of her love for another. It was a juxtaposition Savage once again used to humanise herself, taking a moment to tell the audience she recognises the shift in tone, apologising to those who might have been in attendance for a fondness of her early work.

“It felt difficult because I really did love being single,” Savage says. “And, it was very joyous for me. I know that a lot of people don’t have that experience, so it feels a little bit mean that I’m now in the other camp talking about being in love. It feels like it could’ve been a disappointing thing to other people.”

“I’ve had some beautiful, wild messages from people, just saying I didn’t enjoy being single but your songs made me slightly reassess that and now I enjoy it. And I fucking love that. It makes me so happy.”

“I mean, I didn’t feel conflicted at about writing [You & i are Earth] because I wanted to write it and it’s exactly what was in my mind but there was a part of me that didn’t want to leave people feeling upset.”

As our time draws to a close, Savage reflects on how little we’ve actually managed to talk about her music.

“It’s the red herrings!” Savage exclaims, laughing.

Such tangents, Savage agrees, often make for the better interviews, not only for the audience who might read or hear their favourite artists navigate the same routes of conversation but also for the artists themselves who end up whittling their opinions to a potential point of boredom.

“It feels hard. You get to a point where you want to hit certain points, because those are the important things or the distillation of it but then it feels mean because I’m like I’ve actually already said this I’m sorry.”

There is, however, a point Savage constantly strives to mention in each of her interviews, one that appears across a number of documented conversations dating back to those of her early releases, which is the name of artist Moses Sumney, who Savage has long-wanted to collaborate with.

“That person is living exactly as I would hope to live,” Savage says. “That career trajectory. They have moved from being a conceptual musician, to being a conceptual artist, into a filmmaker, director, creating all the visual worlds as well as the audible worlds. And, also, I think they do it with such sincerity. I’m good at sincerity in certain ways but I don’t know if I’m always good at sincerity about my own art practice.”

“I mean, I don’t always want to be sincere about my own art practice, to be honest. I’m like yes, I’m writing a song, big whoop but, you know, people are nurses and surgeons: a very different vibe. If I’m struggling to write a song I have to kind of check myself.”

“So, yeah, I don’t always want to take myself super seriously, but I do think there is a real beauty in, I guess, ambition.”

Photography By: Oliver Riddoch