Eastern Daily Press / Magazine (Norfolk/UK; 29 June 2002)

Lene Lovich. There are names that conjure up images but this is one that triggers an unnaturally distinct sound. Four notes, probably more famous than the tones of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, will forever be associated with the artist who has retained her place among the weirdest women in pop.

It is essential to pause to let the four squealed notes of Lucky Number, tones that practically defy the written form, pass through your senses. Love them or hate them, there was a time when it was impossible to avoid the sharp refrain, particularly if you happened to be at primary school in 1979, when the single hit number three in the charts.

"It always made me smile," says Lene, "the amount of letters I got from school kids, causing havoc in the school room. I was not popular with teachers at the time.

"But Lucky Number was a love song, totally, though not soppy. It is when somebody realises there is more fun with two."

And almost as an afterthought she confesses: "I don't know where the notes came from, it's cosmic."

The dark, gothic image of heavy make-up, long plaits and the clothes to match still exists. But beneath is a modern mum who has set up home in deepest Norfolk with her family yet still retains a refreshing link to the musical fluidity of the post-punk era.

Her work has been put on hold, as a result of that unnatural rock 'n' roll bed mate of parental responsibility, but the creative seam still runs deep and strong.

We are talking in the Rouen pub in the centre of Norwich. Lene sits with half a pint of Guinness, her jet-black hair covered in a bound scarf of similar shade with those ubiquitous long plaits hanging over her shoulders. Dress code is black, black, black.

It is more than two decades since Lene, now 53, revelled in the spotlight of pop fame through her one major UK hit single.

But is is when speaking of those days she hints, for the first time, of the darker side that shaped her early life. "With Lucky Number," she says, "it seemed that for the first time in my life I was accepted for a short while. I had always been something of an outsider and for a while it was so much fun for me."

She was born Lili-Marlene Premilovich in Detroit, a city notorious for being the murder capital of America at the time, the daughter of an English mother and a Yugoslav father. Family life was far from easy. "The only good thing my father did - he's dead now - was to introduce me to science fiction at an early age," she recalls. "He was obsessive about it, all around the house were early American science fiction magazines. I picked up on that stuff quite early and in America at the time there was no censorship for horror films.

"That may explain why there are a lot of horror writers of a certain age around, such as Stephen King. It was fantasy horror and I watched the early TV shows, Hammer and the Twilight Zone. I've never been a fan of reality horror but I like fantasy horror, probably because it is make-believe."

She lived in America's Motor City with her two sisters and brother and mother Margaret until she was 13. But the violence within the home became too much and the family fled from her father to her mother's home city of Hull.

"We were running away from my dad. He was a very strange person, he had mental problems," says Lene. "My father was violent to my mother and the rest of us in the family. Against that family life, I usually found my imagination was a very good antidote. It was just such a relief to get to England where we were happy."

But the road from school in Hull to fame with the Stiff Records entourage of the late 1970s was long and hard for a singer who had never thought seriously [some missing lines because of misprint] "spend more time outside the art school with people doing theatre or music. It seemed so much more fun."

Lene worked in hotel bands, learned to play saxophone in fringe theatre groups and performed in Europe. It was London DJ Charlie Gillett who took Lene to Stiff and she signed for the label in 1978.

"He had a show called Honky Tonk on Radio London and he had a spot where he would highlight interesting acts. He was the first to find Dire Straits and Elvis Costello. I wrote to him at the time that I was in Europe doing hotel gigs and told him I did not want to do that any more."

Stiff Records, amid the creative maelstrom of the innovative new label, was in turmoil with a split in the foundings partners. Jake Riviera left with Nick Lowe and Elvis Costello and there was a void, which label president Dave Robinson was looking to fill. "I filled that space," says the star who was to become Stiff's first lady.

But she was still not top billing and her first single, a cover of the Tommy James classic I Think We're Alone Now (which actually had Lucky Number as a b-side), was low profile for the label.

Stars such as Ian Dury and the Blockheads and Larry Wallis were the top names and had been exposed nationwide on the first of the famous Stiff tours and the release of their heavily promoted albums. But when Stiff proposed another national tour Lene Lovich was in the second wave with Rachel Sweet, Wreckless Eric, Jona Lewie and Mickey Jupp. "The novelty value was that it was a tour on a train, it was just incredible. We tended to stay in railway hotels which were very grand and there must have been 50-plus people arriving in a hotel. Nobody could ignore us. It was a lot of fun, a great people-watching experience for me."

There are wonderful stories from those days. Lene admits but remains reluctant to tell. "These people are still alive, there is a lot to say but I do not want to go into that, it could be embarrassing."

She is still in contact with Mickey Jupp and Wreckless Eric.

"I always regarded him as one of the best songwriters that I know. I see Jona Lewie now and again but I think Rachel Sweet went back to the States."

For a year or more, Lene was the dark darling of British music with her first two albums Stateless and Flex enjoying a respectable run of 17 weeks on the UK album charts. While they hardly sell in great numbers now, they are occasionally re-issued but remain much-talked about alongside the classic Stiff releases of Ian Dury's New Boots and Panties, Wreckless Eric's Big Smash and Elvis Costello's Stiff debut My Aim Is True.

Lene also enjoyed several collaborations with German punk star Nina Hagen. The two met on the set of the film Cha Cha, which interpreted the impact of new wave on the Amsterdam underground scene, and Hagen later recorded a German version of Lucky Number ["Wir leben immer...noch"] on her album Unbehagen.

Yet for Lene, No Man's Land from 1982, was less of a success and was her last album for eight years. Over the last 20 years, Lene has spent time in America, toured Europe where she still has a strong fan base, written a novel and concentrated on being a mum.

She has been with long-time partner Les Chappell, who is also her song-writing collaborator, since they were at school together in Hull. Now settled into rural Norfolk, they have two children Taz, 17, short for Tarzana "a suitable name for a strong girl" and Hali, 14, from Valhalla, the Viking heaven.

While motherhood has its responsiblities, Lene has found time to pursue her other interests and has written a novel, though she is still seeking a publisher.

She has enjoyed some success with the written word, being named a finalist in the prestigious 1992 Ian St James Awards for previously unpublished writers with a story called The Paleface Moon.

Lene Lovich is also an ardent supporter of animal rights and it is still an issue close to her heart.

"I did a month-long tour a few years ago for an organisation called People for Ethical Treatment of Animals. When I was doing that, few celebrities were getting involved because it was considered detrimental to their career."

Having remained friends with Nina Hagen and sharing a common interest, the two teamed up to sing together on the 1986 animal rights song Don't Kill The Animals, which has since appeared on a number of compilations.

Lene also appeared in Van Der Graaf Generator founder Peter Hammill's interpretation of the goth horror epic The Fall of the House of Usher in which Erasure singer Andy Bell also had a role.

But there are other facets to the talents of Lene Lovich. No-one would dispute that she can scream with the best of them but you may have heard her shriek in some instances without realising it was her.

She is a little coy about being known for using her voice to add authentic screams to horror movies but admits to the fact, briefly, before moving on.

"I have a flexible voice and I like screaming," is all she had to say on that.

Equally as unknown is that Lene penned the lyrics to one of the great Euro pop anthems of the 1970s, Supernature by French disco act Cerrone.

"It was a big hit and I still do very well out of it," she says. It is a sci-fi song and was also used as the theme tune to Kenny Everett's TV show. One of the unknown sides to my career is that I write lyrics for disco music. Before I signed for Stiff I worked with a soul band, it was at the time that there were a lot of white soul bands about such as the Average White Band and also a pub dance scene."

She now admires to a range of music without being specific - "if it's good I will listen to it."

What has survived for Lene Lovich is her image, self-created in the void of preconception created by Stiff and since been copied by the likes of Cyndi Lauper and Madonna at various times in their careers. "If you asked Madonna, she would have good things to say about me, mainly from the visual," says Lene confidently. "I do not know how I'd really describe my style, there are dark features but it is also practical. The plaits go back to art school when I was up to my arms in plaster bins and it was practical to keep my hair out my face. It was about the punk time, it was great for me because there were a lot of stereotypes around. People were creating their own style, safety pins and bin liners were even original them, and there I was being an individual."

Neither punk nor rock, the Stiff stars hovered above the music scene, injecting new attitude and influence. "We were the dark guys invited to the punk party, we were allowed in to hover," she continues. "I had my own profile and I did not do anything apart from be my natural self. I did not see myself as a product, I did not have a manager telling me what to do, so maybe I didn't do the normal things but I felt comfortable with my image," she explained.

She had always been known as Lene but it was around that time that she shortened her surname to match the image.

Lene has an awful lot to thank Stiff for. Her time as a top-of-the-charts star may have been relatively short-lived but her name, nurtured by the innovative Stiff label, has enjoyed greater longevity.

As Lene acknowledges, Stiff attracted an awkward and unorthodox array of talent and then established the creative environment for them to thrive in.

"Stiff had an open mind which was very unusual in the music business at the time. I think they saw the chance within the punk scene as being a great opportunity to make some money and I think, within a very short time, they opened their doors to some very interesting people.

"I would like to think it could still happen because the music business is in big trouble at the moment because it is not creating anything."

The career of Lene Lovich has never been forgotten, though for some years it has remained dormant as she brought up a family.

But with work proceeding on a new album and the forthcoming show, which is at the Westacre River Studios in west Norfolk on July 20, Lene is optimistic about the future.

However, a slight hitch with guitarist Les' finger has held things back.

"We are still working out what we are going to do for Westacre," says Lene.

"Les had an accident a while ago. He lost the end of his finger, which for a guitarist is a bit of a problem.

No details, except she adds: "It was an accident with a door". And that is enough information.

Though Les is expected to play some guitar, another musician may have to be drafted in. There'll be two sets on the night, one minimalist and the second with a full band but both will contain old and newer songs including favourites such as Lucky Number and its chart follow-up, Say When. "We were also hoping to have the new album out by now but because of the finger it has fallen back a long way," says Lene. "This will now be a one-off show, we had planned other performances for later in the year and originally we were going to do quite a big tour."

So, why Westacre? For Les and Lene, it is a venue close to their Norfolk home and is also the delivery of a long-standing promise. "We promised Westacre we would do it. We have not broken a promise yet and we don't want to break one now," she says.

It arose out of a warm-up gig for the Whitby Dracfest some time ago where Lene later appeared with Hawkwind, The Stranglers and her personal friends Arthur Brown and Captain Sensible of The Damned.

"The people from Westacre saw us and always kept us in mind."

The show next month is billed as a blend of goth, pop, drama and a dance twist, with the audience warned to expect the unexpected from the ex-first lady of Stiff Records.

"Our music has always been very eclectic, we'll do a mixture of everything. There is a large amount of dramatic content, but not theatrical, there will be strong emotions," she adds.

For the future, music will be once again a greater part of her life. "My family is important but now they are getting older there is more chance to make my music a higher priority again," she says. "I would also like to carry on with my writing and my art work as a sculptor in some way."

It is 12 years since Lene last recorded an album. March was released in 1990 [Note: Dec 1989. Recorded in 1986/87, maybe into 1988], though there have been compilations and reissues since.

The new album, Shadows and Dust, is being recorded at her home studio and while behind schedule is due out by the end of the year. The Westacre show will be the first chance for fans to have a sneak preview of the new record.

It is easy to dismiss Lene Lovich as a wacky one-hit wonder who 'disappeared' amid the disintegration of New Wave in the early 1980s.

Yet she has retained a presence - forever scratched on the facade of the music business with the screeched notes of Lucky Number - but there is far more to Lene Lovich than one single.

Artist, writer, musician and mum.

There are still many admirers out there, particularly across Europe where she toured regularly and as Stiff's wacky pop princess reminds us: "If you do something that is original there will be always a lot of interest."

No one can dispute that Lene Lovich is the original.

Gazette Telegraph (about paranormal experiences) (Colorado Springs; 31 March 1980)

New wave rock's 'high priestess' follows no one 

By Steve Morse, Boston Globe

Lene Lovich doesn’t dwell on trivialities. She has been around and she disdains living a shallow, unexamined life. At only the slightest urging, she jumps right into topics like karma, age regression, telepathy and psychic premonitions — hardly the concerns of most pop singers. A true individualist, Lovich has been labeled the “high priestess” of new wave rock ‘n’ roll. Some call her a nut case — she sings in an eccentric, warbly style and wears gothic Transsylvanian costumes — but she prefers to see herself as simply living life the way she wants to, and phooey on her detractors.

About the cover picture on her new album, “Flex,” which shows her in a swirling white dress that could pass as a Transsylvanian wedding gown, she says, “Oh actually, it’s just a lot of old curtains tied together. I just wear what I like. I don’t want to follow fashions that other people follow, that’s all.”

A Detroit native who has spent most of her life in England, Lovich recently talked about her fast-blooming career and, most of all, about her psychic interests. These interests crop up in her music, which is a progressive, masterfully-woven blend of her assertive, throaty vocals and high-tech electronics and sound effects. She has recorded songs about telepathy and ESP, and as a child — the daughter of a Yugoslav father and English mother — she was possessed by visions. As she says, “I had many unusual encounters with my mind... seeing all kinds of pictures and even on a couple of occasions, premonitions. I had a very, very active imagination. But the thing that worried me was the lack of control: I would see pictures when I didn’t want to see them. They were sort of like daydreams and normally they were quite fun, but I just didn’t like the idea that I would be suddenly taken over by them.” Her strongest span of mental activity, she says, occurred between the ages of 7 and 11 in Detroit, where she lived in a low-income neighborhood until her parents split and she moved with her mother to England at age 13.

She cites one particular premonition that she hasn’t forgotten. “Where I lived there was a field in the next block, where three or four houses had been knocked down and nothing else had been built on them. It was just a big overrun field with trees and big weeds. There was no other place for us to play. We used to spend all our spare time in that field, just playing there. I had a dream one night about tractors coming in and cutting it down. I was standing at the side and I was crying. I woke up feeling very sad about it, but I didn’t think any more about it until I went downstairs and my friends were all waiting on the front porch for me to come out. Their faces were all very long, and I said, ‘What happened?” They said, ‘They’ve cut down the field. We have no place to play.’“

Not all of Lovich’s childhood visions were benign, however. “A few things happened quite regularly,” she says, “that I didn’t like, mainly when I was about to open a door — any door. Just as soon as I put my hand on the handle of a door I would see the most horrible, gruesome sights behind it. This I had no control over and would make me ill. It wouldn’t be the same every time, but there’d be mutilated bodies and strange things like that. I just didn’t like the idea that I wasn’t in control, that I would suddenly find myself at the bottom of stairs when two minutes ago I was at the top and I didn’t know how I’d gotten down there. It was almost like I had fallen down the stairs. I didn’t know.”

Plagued so long by insecurities, Lovich never thought she could sing. She didn’t really take up music until she attended art college in London, where she shared a sculpture class with Les Chappell, who triggered her interest in violin and saxophone. She performed on the streets with Chappell (who is now her boyfriend and co-songwriter) and later played sax in various soul bands. She still plays sax — it is an earthy counterpoint to her eerie vocals — but her singing poise was to come slowly.