Friday, November 21, 2003 Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

A Real Jewel

Singer has come a long way since performing in the bars of Alaska

Jewel recently won the Best Hook-Up Song award from the Radio Music Awards, after losing a Best Belly Button award at a VH1 awards show. "I'm glad I got one of them," she says, tongue tucked in cheek.

Jewel has had a weird year. She put out a pop album and listened to folk purists who accused her of selling out. She went on tour with a band, but had to halt the show, because a bandmate died. Now, she's playing acoustic sets on tour.

But she's still Jewel in concert, the published poet who worked her way from singing with her dad in Alaska bars to being nominated this year for a Best Belly Button award by the music channel, VH1.

Looking back at 2003, Jewel observes that she devoted only six weeks to writing and mixing her big pop album, "0304," with its hit single, "Intuition."

"I don't even try to sing great in the studio. It doesn't inspire me at all. When I'm live, and there's an audience, I sing 50 times better than on the record. I don't know, I've never felt like a show-off in the studio," she says and chuckles. "It's like a means to an end."

Jewel is also thinking of changing directions again for her next album. She's interested in jazz standards, country music and singer-songwriter tunes.

"I don't know what I'll do next," she says.

With a concert slated for Saturday at the Aladdin Theatre, Jewel Kilcher, 29, talks about her bizarre year and answers yet more questions about her personal history.

Elfman: I saw you at the (Radio Music Awards). You won for Best Hook-Up Song, which I think is hilarious.

Jewel: I know. It's like the best navel award at the VH1 Awards. I'm glad I got one of them.

Elfman: How do you feel about that?

Jewel: It's just fun. It's hilarious.

Elfman: A friend of mine, a woman, told me you were wearing a silver tunic (at the Radio Music Awards).

Jewel: I don't know what you call it.

Elfman: I was just reading this Boston Globe review, which was a good review of your show. ... You were (still learning) the chords of "Intuition," so (the reviewer) liked the fact that you just talked to your audience about it.

Jewel: I make mistakes all the time. Nothing's planned. I don't do set lists. My audiences talk back to me. I sass back to them. I make (stuff) up. It's really a fun show, but it's a dangerous show. A lot of performers don't like to forget a lyric, and they feel bad if they do. I don't really care about any of that. I don't think fans really do, either. They really want to get to know you and know what you're like. ... Or frankly, if they don't be quiet enough, they don't deserve the song. If they don't listen to it, I'll just stop and I'll start another one. There's sort of no rules. It's a lot of fun.

Elfman: Does it not cause you more anxiety to play it by ear like that?

Jewel: Well, I've been doing what I've been doing my whole life, solo especially. I grew up singing in bars for drunks, you know, to people who don't want to listen to you -- doing cover songs, on top of it. I was taught how to engage an audience.

Elfman: So when you were playing in bars, what kind of cover songs did you do?

Jewel: You name it. My dad is a jukebox. He'd play guitar and sing harmony and lead on a few songs. I was kind of like his backup. We did Elvis songs that I never heard Elvis sing until I was 18 or 19. We did everything from "Brown Eyed Girl" to (Jim) Croce songs, to Eagles songs, to Elvis, to Tom Petty, to John Prine, to God you name it, and a lot of my dad's originals. ... My dad's a great entertainer. He never wrote a set list. He'd make up songs about audience members just to piss them off, if nothing else. We sang at two in the afternoon at AmVet bars, veterans' clubs. Lots of situations -- loggers, fishermen.

Elfman: Was there any one particular group that was your best audience or your worst audience?

Jewel: It was always hell, if you ask me.

Elfman: Really?

Jewel: Yeah, I mean, you're talking about five-hour shows in bars in Alaska during daylight, because it doesn't get dark in the summer. ... Drunks all day long in the winter. People never would listen. They'd come to get laid and drink. And we happened to be on as background music.

Elfman: Actually, that sounds a lot like Vegas.

Jewel: Yeah. There were shows, gosh, we played bank openings, weddings, gas station openings. You name it.

Elfman: Do you ever have people come up and say, "You played at my bank" or whatever?

Jewel: When I'm home, yeah. We were it in Homer, (Alaska). Us and a guy named Hobo Jim played all over Alaska.

Elfman: This must be some turnaround for you to enjoy performing now, as opposed to then. The difference must be enormous.

Jewel: Sometimes. In the beginning of my career, I opened for Peter Murphy of Bauhaus, and Catherine Wheel, and Belly. It was no fun at all. ... I cussed people if I needed to, to make them listen. I'd kick people out -- I'd open up for someone, and I'd kick someone out! (She laughs.) ... I just always had a lot of moxie, because I grew up singing for drunks.

Elfman: Opening is such a weird thing. Two years ago, I saw Rufus Wainwright open for Sting, and Sting's fans booed him. And I was like, hello, this is Rufus Wainwright!

Jewel: People hate opening acts. They didn't come to see somebody else. ... I actually think I have one of the best audiences to open for. People can open for me solo, and my fans have been beaten into being respectful and into listening.

Elfman: That's pretty fascinating that you say you've beaten your audience into submission.

Jewel: (Chuckling.) No, I have a really great fan base. They really match me. You look out and you see 6-year-olds, and 60-year-olds. It's kind of an anomaly. I get all the Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell fans, and then all the kids watching "Intuition" (on MTV). They're all very respectful.

Elfman: You know, yesterday, I was squirreling around the Internet and I saw tons of Web sites for you, more than other people as famous as you. Do you ever go surfing around these Web sites?

Jewel: No, it usually freaks me out.

Elfman: Why is that?

Jewel: You'll see, like: "Was that a cigarette in her hand? Do we still like her if she smokes? Does she still stand for what she stands for? Or is she a hypocrite if she smokes?" You know, it's a lollipop with me in the picture.

Elfman: I'm sure there was a fair share of that (questioning) when this new album came out.

Jewel: It's like that with every record. There's always somethin'. ... You know, "Once a folk player, always a folk player." ... I really think that if you look at a painter, it's absurd to say you can only use the color blue for the rest of your career. ... I think some of those fans -- like, extreme fans -- who are like, "She quit folk music," if I went to their CD player, I bet they don't just have folk CDs. So shame on them. (She says this last bit forcefully, but then chuckles.) ... I'd like equal punishment for all. I'd love to find all the audience members' old pictures (and say), "You fake, you no longer feather your hair!"