In a fair race, Real Life by Joan As Policewoman would win the award for 2006’s best debut album at a haughty canter. Forget the artful (your space or mine?) dodgerisms of the Arctic Monkeys, and Gnarls Barkely’s joyous GM-modified exuberance, no other opening salvo released over the last 12 months has arrived as beautifully grown up and fully formed.

Which is hardly a surprise because, although Joan Wasser has only recently broken cover on her own, for much of the last decade she has been exerting a quiet but significant influence on some of the best music (and musicians) coming out of America.
While touring and playing violin with her first band (the art-rock hopefuls, The Dambuilders), she met Jeff Buckley – embarking on a relationship that lasted until his untimely death in May 1997. At his memorial service, Wasser performed a number of songs with Buckley’s band-mates, David Shouse and Michael Tighe, and, when Dambuilders broke up, took up an offer to join them in Those Bastard Souls.
A short stint (alongside Steven Drozd of The Flaming Lips) with Black Beetle followed, but it wasn’t until an unknown Antony Hegarty invited her to hitch up with his backing band, The Johnsons, that Wasser’s career began to move into a higher gear. As Hegarty began to take on a near-mythic status, Mark Linkous, Lou Reed and Rufus Wainwright were quick to call upon her services. Given Wasser’s blue-blood pedigree, the only surprise with Real Life is that it took so long to emerge.
“I never really cared about singing,” she reveals, down the line from a wintry Berlin. “I wasn’t pining away, waiting for my chance in the spotlight. I was genuinely very happy playing violin. Of course, during the whole time touring and recording with everyone, I was taking it all in, gaining confidence – so when I did start singing and writing my own songs – I had a real idea of how I wanted to progress.”
As showcased on songs like ‘Eternal Flame’ and ‘Ride’, Wasser’s voice is an impressive, stop-in-your-tracks discovery – channelling influences from the likes of Nina Simone, Elizabeth Fraser and Laura Nyro. Odd then to discover that it took her some time to feel comfortable in front of a mic.
“In the beginning, singing felt very weird. I was real vulnerable and uncomfortable with it. But I think I’ve learnt that I’m someone who is attracted towards the uncomfortable rather than running away from it. So I persevered. I wrote really, really complicated songs at the start, but it takes you a while to learn that it’s best to keep things simple. I listened to a lot of soul music – a lot of Al Green and Donny Hathaway – and they’re the most straight-forward sounding, natural songs in the world. But boy, do they have an emotional punch. That was a lesson.”
The album’s wee-hours intimacy suggests it was recorded in a huddle. Wasser confirms the musicians were nose-to-nose during sessions.
“I really needed the record to have a very live sound,” she says. “All the basics are live; we were all in the same room at the same time. It sounds silly, but most records aren’t made like that these days. The whole theme of the record was me learning to be honest with myself and with others, so that’s how I wanted it to sound – almost like you’ve discovered a very intimate moment. So, I spent lots of time stripping things away – if it wasn’t necessary, it didn’t go on. I definitely didn’t want to make a record until I was ready. I wanted to be happy with every note on it. It’s mine. I wrote every song on it and I couldn’t have made it without all the experiences I have had. It feels like a very natural road I’ve been on, a very natural transition.”
Real Life – in common with the best work of Antony and Rufus – marries a gritty urban sensibility with baroque song-writing and orchestration. Given Wasser’s background, it’s hardly surprising that her own material has taken such a clued-in and literate turn. Classically trained (she studied violin under Yuri Mazurkevich and played with the Boston Symphony Orchestra in her teens), exposure to punk (in the form of Big Black and Black Flag) inspired her lurch towards the US underground scene of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s.
“I love music in general, wherever it comes from or whatever form it takes,” she says. “I’ve never really seen much of a difference between classical and punk – as far as I was concerned, they were both about expressing emotion. I started off listening to Judy Garland when I was a kid – I really, really loved her, but then I learned how to play the violin and I started obsessing over classical music in a serious way. I got into punk after that and I’m glad it happened in that order. Classical music has such an amazing palate. I’m so glad I had all those amazing colours in my young head. When punk rock came along it was so incredibly emotional and empowering. I don’t see much of a difference between Stravinsky and The Minutemen – they’re both on my iPod.”
Even though Wasser’s taste in music is laudably catholic, she detects a unifying theme in her choice of collaborators.
“I’m always interested in anyone who is following their own unique path,” she says. “Antony and Rufus forge their own path, just like Joseph Arthur, just like Adam Green, just like Lou Reed. They’ve all got their own things going on and although they have very strong ideas, ultimately it’s a gentle and beautiful thing to be around.”
Given her love of flamboyant musical mavericks, it comes as little surprise that the first gig ever attended by the 14-year-old Joan was by that dandiest of highwaymen – Adam Ant.
“I saw him in Radio City in New York and he was just great. Really glitzy, really fun – just what a pop star should be. It was a terrific night. I had a real blast.”
And if you were 14, who would you be listening to now?
“I don’t know, I kinda hope I’d be into Sufjan Stevens or Antony. Actually, you know what – I would have loved Peaches. She is a real positive role model – her music is fun and provocative and it encourages you to think for yourself, don’t stand for bullshit. So, yeah. I’d have posters of Peaches on my wall.”
Which is good advice, kids. And here’s some more: please try to make a little space for Joan.