Striding onto the catwalk in an emerald-green dress crafted from recycled water bottles, a seemingly endless train of fabric spooling over the stage behind her, Rhiannon Johnson embodied the very essence of Glamazon 2.0. Born in Barbados to English parents, and having spent her formative years in Kenya before graduating from London’s much-admired Central St Martins University of the Arts, this elegant chanteuse cuts quite the dash on the runway. But it’s what’s underneath – namely, her vocal chords – that really quickens the pulse. The Advisor cornered Rhiannon offstage to talk Caribbean culture, crippling shyness and what it’s like fronting Cambodia’s rowdiest funk band.
Where on Earth did you get those vocal chords, madam?
Music in Barbados is a big deal. In the Caribbean, it’s a huge part of their culture. Once a year, we’d have this big festival to celebrate the end of the crops and sugar cane; it’s called Crop Over. Listening to the radio and singing was always a huge part of my life, but it wasn’t until I got to school in Kenya that I got the chance to focus on it. It felt great: it was me coming out of myself. I’d only ever sung by myself in the shower. I’d get really nervous doing open mics in shopping centres and my best friend, who’s here in Cambodia with me now, would listen to me sing in the toilets before I went on and say: ‘It’s OK. You’re going to be great!’ Now she’s here in Cambodia, at the front of a Durian concert, clapping and shouting. It’s so serendipitous. And I feel very grateful to have parents who have always said: ‘You have to do whatever it is you love.’ Both of my parents are very creative.
How did you come to find yourself here?
I had no concept of Southeast Asia or Cambodia at all, but my mother and best friend – who are all here – were on Skype saying: ‘If you come here, you’ll find something. Why not just come along?’ I said OK, quit my job, shipped all my stuff, brought my brother with me and now we’re all here. What are the odds?
That’s the universe telling you something.
I took a while to figure out what I was going to do here. I remember singing at a few open mic nights and I was so shy. I sat on the chair with my legs crossed and kind of went like this… [mimes curling up into the foetal position]. It took a while for the music thing to kick off and then it took a while for me to get comfortable and into the groove of the whole thing. Then a friend took me to meet Euan Gray and GTS. Euan’s very good and very practiced at encouraging people to come out of themselves and to sing and be musical and try different things. I think he can see it in people. He’s very good at getting them to own this gift they didn’t realise they had and to use it. It was very easy for him to get me singing again. He was doing a duo at The Quay and asked me to step in while Louise Norup was away for six weeks. It was a really nice way to get started; to get accustomed to the sound of my own voice out loud.
From civilised beginnings at The Quay, you’ve since gone on to front Cambodia’s dirtiest, low-down funk band, Durian.
I’ve gone through all these phases. I started out with Euan, which was mostly pop/soul stuff, then Phil & Ritchie got in touch and we did a gig together at Red Apron. They’re both hilarious; great company. That was mostly jazz. Then there was the trio with Euan and Charlie Corrie. Then Chris Rompre approached me, saying they were thinking of putting Durian back together.
Funk: that’s a very different sound than what you were doing before.
It’s fun! It’s very melodic, good fun. At the time, it was just what I needed. I’ve gone through a lot of changes with music. I was terrified, because I’d seen their last gig and the energy. I’d seen Jess [Knowles, former lead singer] just throw herself into the gig, with sweat flying. That energy! I love funk music but I’d never really sung any before. Then I realised I’d never really sung any of the other stuff before either. The earlier stuff was very laidback, very mellow. The sheer amount of energy I had to put into funk music really intimidated me, but feel the fear and do it anyway, right?
Absobloodylutely!
I already knew I was going to be surrounded by great people who were going to be really supportive and it just carried on. I put so much into our first gig that I sweat more than I ever have in my life! I went into Equinox’s toilet to change my dress and actually wrung it out. It was stuck to me! I was totally spent at the end of it but it was great fun. I’m really sad that it’s come to an end for a while, if not permanently.
What’s the story?
Our trumpet player and our guitarist have left Cambodia for good, and everyone else has gone away for two to six months. They’ll be back, but we’ll need to find new members. But we didn’t even know there was going to be a Durian 2.0, so we’ll see. I am going to miss it. What do I do now with my Monday nights?! Monday nights are long. What do you do?!
So what’s next for you?
Greg Lavender, the drummer, who’s a very dear friend of mine and plays with Durian as well as everyone else, he said ‘Why don’t we put a thing together?’ Our quartet has now done a few gigs at The Village.
And this quartet is called…
[Laughs] The Rhiannon Johnson Quartet! I’m so sorry. We struggled for so long on that one. Stephane is a genius with the word play and he came up with so many fantastic names, but we didn’t want to come across as pretentious. It’s so hard with these things, as you know. You come up with a name and you’re like, ‘This is brilliant!’ Then you look at it again and it’s, like, you just can’t.
Pun fail!
And my name is WAY too long for a band name.
I was going to ask you whether it’s a stage name.
Are you kidding?! It’s WAY too long!
It’s an awesome name. You just kind of sigh it: ‘Rhhhhiiiiaaaaanon Johhhhhnson’…
[Laughs] You’re so full of it! So that’s the quartet. We’ll see. The funny thing is, for the past year… stuff just comes up. When I first got here I panicked because it was so new and I fell in love with singing. I hope it continues. That’s the wonderful thing about Cambodia: you can do anything.
Howzabout a funk-punk duet?
[Looks nervous] Yes. Absolutely. Um… Cambodia has taught me to trust that things will happen and to trust myself and others. I work with amazing, talented musicians and they’re wonderful. They’ve taken the time to sit down and teach me things and made me feel I do have something to offer. I get really nervous, but then I get out there and it’s wonderful.
What do you listen to during your down time?
Musically, I don’t listen to anything like what I sing.
Metallica? AC/DC? You’re listening to Slayer, aren’t you?
[Laughs] Not Slayer, no, but I do love a huge range of stuff. There are a lot of jazz songs I would hum or sing on my walk to work in London and now I’m performing them. I remember standing on stage singing Cry Me A River and thinking ‘I can’t believe that a year ago I was singing this on my way to work and in my bedroom and doing the laundry.’ I recorded it one night when I was at home on a Saturday on GarageBand, only because there was no one else there to hear me. All of a sudden I’m singing it in front of people. And they’ll turn to you with a big grin on their face and start mouthing the words along with you. At home, I listen to stuff like Lord Huron and James Vincent McMorrow. It’s mostly easy listening; pop and rock. It’s very mellow, but then I put a play list together for a party on Saturday night and it was all Earth, Wind and Fire; Motown, funk. I love that stuff and can listen to it all day if I’ve got my groove on.
WHO: Rhiannon Johnson
WHAT: Silken vocals, from jazz to funk
WHERE: Various exotic locations in Cambodia
WHEN: We’ll let you know, so Watch This Space!
WHY: If you weren’t at Glamazon 2.0, ask anyone who was