Escape from New York
Covid survivor Kimbra is back home to judge a talent show she promises won’t be cruel to the wannabes, writes
‘It’s not simply about a nice voice,’’ deadpans Kimbra, who is sitting across from me, legs folded within a svelte green armchair. We’re sitting in a cosy studio in Auckland’s leafy Kingsland suburb discussing what maketh a pop star, and you can bet your bottom dollar it is more than just a pretty face and a decent set of pipes.
Instead, she remarks, the ‘‘pop star’’ job description is an umbrella term that houses technical wizard, collaborator and public speaker. Pop stars, she says, should be able to take care of themselves on the road, use an album advance to start a business, produce their own music, understand the world of publishing and know how to handle the media.
It will come as a shock to the hopefuls soon to be put through their paces for the reboot of Popstars, on which Kimbra, 30, with her nononsense talk and challenging of the music industry’s illusory truths, will be a judge.
Following its genesis in New Zealand in 1999, reality TV talent show Popstars became a worldwide phenomenon, with iterations everywhere from Canada to Colombia. Its formula was used for the avalanche of unashamedly gorge-able talent shows that ensued, making it the progenitor for The X-Factor and American Idol. We have Popstars to thank for Kelly Clarkson, Harry Styles, Carrie Underwood, Jedward.
There’s no disputing the show’s success, but I admit to Kimbra that I can’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Uncomfortable, even. A reality show following the blunders of fame-hungry
Kiwis doesn’t feel very, well, 2021 – does it?
‘‘It’s different this time,’’ she insists, explaining how the resurrected version isn’t about pointing fingers and sniggering at other people’s expense. ‘‘We don’t believe in humiliating people. I certainly wouldn’t have signed up to be a part of anything that would be unhelpful for someone.’’
That’s not to say it’s all perma-cheeriness and pats on the back though. While the Cowell-esque pillorying should remain firmly in the Noughties, Kimbra’s new role still requires reviewing contestants in front of the camera. So, on the goodcop, bad-cop layout of talent show judging panels, where does Kimbra stand? ‘‘I don’t think I’m harsh,’’ she lands on, after pausing for thought, ‘‘but I am a realist. These artists have to be able to take criticism and feedback, that’s number one. But there is a way that you can do that so it respects people and honours them. It’s about supporting and lifting these people up.’’
She also brings a ‘‘special emotional aspect’’ she says, being the only woman on the panel.
Suspecting that there is nobody better to objectively describe Kimbra’s on-set persona than her comrades themselves, I sought out fellow judges, Zed frontman Nathan King and R&B crooner Vince Harder, for a chat. Primarily she sounds like she’s a hoot to work with, if King’s anecdotes of ‘‘playing silly buggers with TikTok challenges and in-jokes’’ are anything to go by. ‘‘Kimbra’s a large part of what makes filming each day a real pleasure,’’ he rhapsodised.
When she’s not tickling their funny bones, she’s bringing empathy and a plethora of knowledge to really raise the bar. Her biggest strength, said King, is how she relates to the contestants. ‘‘She’s able to meet artists where they’re at, regardless of their skill level, and make them feel supported and heard.’’ When I quizzed Harder, he pointed out that her being a woman ensures she ‘‘brings a lot to the table that Nate and I can’t’’, but it’s her experience as a Grammywinning artist of international acclaim that is the most invaluable.
In case you had forgotten, Hamilton-bred Kimbra broke out in 2011 with her appearance on Gotye’s ubiquitous Somebody That I Used To Know, and she’s been riding fame’s rocket ever since. She’s won Grammys, collaborated with John Legend and performed on Saturday Night Live. She’s big in New Zealand but even bigger in the States, a place where, if her Americanised accent is anything to go by, she now considers home.
‘‘I’ve actually recently moved,’’ she says, when asked where she’s officially residing. ‘‘I’d been living in Manhattan for around six years but last year I moved upstate to the country.’’ It was a resettlement spurred on by the rampaging coronavirus pandemic, and her first-hand experience with the disease. ‘‘I’d been in New York during its inception and so I caught it,’’ she says, suddenly sombre. ‘‘I was really ill. It was at a time when a lot of Kiwis were making the move home, but I just didn’t even consider it because the thought of travelling while that sick felt like more of a hassle than what it was worth.’’
Rather than braving the interminable flight back to her homeland she instead discovered the next best thing: a little slice of old Aotearoa nestled in the valleys of upstate New York, where she counts the mountains and a bubbling stream as her neighbours. ‘‘I was just craving nature, and I wanted to be somewhere where I felt safer,’’ she reflects, detailing how the area’s juxtapositional character – calm and outdoorsy with the stimulus of Manhattan on its doorstep – provides the ‘‘perfect balance’’ that she needs.
Kimbra describes how she was ‘‘so grateful’’ to be offered the Popstars gig, not simply because it was a fresh and stimulating career opportunity, but because it meant she would be able to spend a significant chunk of time on home soil. Since touching down and completing her managed isolation stay in January (which, while tough, ‘‘feeling as though you’re doing something good for your country drives you to keep with it’’) she has been relishing a relatively Covid-free existence.
‘‘It’s so nice to just be able to do normal things,’’ she laughs, her already broad smile expanding into a waka-wide grin.
‘‘I hadn’t eaten out in a restaurant since March of last year. I’m hanging out with friends and family, going to cafes, spending a lot of time at the beach, it’s really great.’’ She touches upon how New Zealand provides a multifaceted escape. Not solely is the pandemic (almost) blissfully absent, but it’s also a conflict-free nirvana in comparison to the States’ incessant unrest.
‘‘To have a break from all the political fear and chaos has been beautiful,’’ she smiles. ‘‘It’s great to be back here, experiencing the sense of real leadership and stability that this country has.’’
Would she ever consider returning home permanently? ‘‘Absolutely, when I’m older and have a family,’’ she nods. ‘‘I really want my kids to grow up with New Zealand being their other home. I want to raise children with the admiration and respect for nature that we have here. I can’t imagine my life where I’m not integrating New Zealand trips regularly and spending time up here.’’
We chew over the comparisons between New York and New Zealand living; does she ever get recognised or hounded by fans when she’s home? She chortles, saying that she rarely gets recognised but, when she does, New Zealanders tend to have a level of friendly insouciance. ‘‘They don’t make you feel very uncomfortable, it’s always just more of a really relaxed, ‘Hey, I just want you to know I really love your music.’
Which I don’t mind at all.’’ It’s not like America, she adds, where people are very brazen, and photo-driven.
Handling fans and being in the public eye is another masterclass that will be taught to the aspirant pop stars, she says, explaining how she struggled early on in her career because nobody ever gave her the celebrity lay of the land. ‘‘I had to learn the importance of distancing myself a little bit, because that’s not something you just get taught at school or in everyday life. You realise there has to be a boundary put up between you and the world.’’
Social media can be especially difficult, she says. ‘‘We’re all women bombarded with messages of perfection, and I am just like anyone else – I feel insecure on social media. I’m not a naturally public person.’’
Instead she enjoys the mystery of artistry. The beauty of being able to present a character on stage, then leave that stage and sink back into sublime obscurity. ‘‘I subscribe to the old school pop star idea,’’ she says, before pointing out that the public were never told what David Bowie watched on TV or ate for breakfast. ‘‘That’s a big part of why people were obsessed with him, because you can’t know what’s behind the mask. I love that.’’
As the conversation naturally swings back around to music, I ask if there are any areas in the industry that she thinks could do with some improvement. ‘‘Racism,’’ she blurts. ‘‘There is a lot of exploitation in this industry, and there are things that need to be restructured in order to make sure everyone is being lifted up.’’
When she’s not judging singing contestants or making new music (her fourth album, which she describes as her ‘‘most personal yet’’ is in production), she’s running her weekly Instagram series called Down The Rabbit Hole, a podcast where she discusses this subject in detail with a number of fellow artists.
It’s a topic that Kimbra is clearly very passionate about, and, as she leans forward, a wonderfully loquacious side of the artist begins to reveal itself.
‘‘These are conversations that need to be had everywhere,’’ she says. ‘‘I think that we have an industry 1that has exploited certain music, and has not created fair contracts for artists of colour, and has not created an environment that is representative.’’
I ask if this is something we should be concerned about in New Zealand, and she points out that she hasn’t worked in the Kiwi music industry for quite some time now, so cannot say for certain. I pause, and rephrase the question. Is this something we should be concerned about on the set of a TV show like Popstars?
She is quick talk about the conversations being had on set – one focuses on the implementation of te reo Ma¯ ori, which she is learning. ‘‘It’s such a central part to the show. We’re really trying to acknowledge and honour our ancestry and our
Ma¯ ori roots,’’ she says, ‘‘whether that’s by making sure we call the cities by their proper place names or just trying to integrate te reo into the way we speak.’’
As I tally up the ways in which this iteration of Popstars promises to be a remedied version of the inauthentic, ridicule-rife talent shows of yesteryear, I’m almost convinced that we’re close to witnessing a turning point in television. Almost. I’ll be holding the remote with hope, reflecting on Kimbra’s closing words: ‘‘I think we’ve seen enough of the old way, it’s time for something new.’’
Popstars is coming soon to TVNZ 2.