Cole’s Career Concept: The Tortoise, not the Hare

Singer-songwriter Paula Cole was a household name back in the mid to late 1990s, when her commentary on gender stereotypes “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” and “I Don’t Want to Wait,” picked up as the theme song of TV’s Dawson’s Creek, were all over the airwaves. She was nominated for seven Grammys, including Record, Song and Album of the Year, as well as non-classical producer – the first ever nod for a female – winning as Best New Artist. 

But that attention wasn’t what the self-confessed introvert who has called herself a tortoise, not a hare, was wanting, preferring instead a contemplative pace rather than a fast finish. Cole kept making music, but mostly withdrew from the hoopla part, and eventually pulled back entirely from recording non-political original music for the better part of a decade. 

But earlier this year she released her 11th album, Lo, full of songs that explore issues of identity and trauma, a remarkably intimate recording that feels like the musical equivalent of hard-earned journal entries set to carefully crafted melodies and arrangements. 

Cole is coming to Santa Barbara to perform at the Lobero on April 24 backed by her longtime bandmates who were part of the album recorded live in the studio. 

Q. How did such sudden success 25 years ago affect you? 

A. I definitely wasn’t ready, I didn’t relish being there at all. That wasn’t the idea of a career I held in my heart. It felt very ill-fitting. I went away for a while and focused on my personal life, raising my daughter, and slowly but consistently putting out what I think is a good quality catalog on my own label. I feel like I am starting to build the career I’ve wanted and I’m grateful to have a very core, loving, and loyal audience. Now that my kids are fledglings leaving home, I can spread my wings again. 

The songs on Lo are very revealing, which you have spoken about in interviews. Can you share how you were able to become so vulnerable with your music and let down your guard to make the album?

I’m in a loving relationship, 17 years in. At the 15-year mark, I finally decided to get married and writing these songs helped me make that decision. I realized that I have nothing to fear. As the song says, I’ve been carrying around this invisible armor, but the songwriting is like a dialogue with your subconscious. It’s a therapeutic process. It helped me understand that I was my own enemy, doing the blocking, and that I wanted to grow beyond the confines of another ill-fitting snakeskin. To graduate to a new era of my life I had to just be braver. 

What lets you do that?

It’s just in my body. We repress our truest thoughts, feelings, and nature because we think we’re supposed to do something else, but with reflection I know that my mind tricks me, but my body is wise. I just need to listen to and decipher it to realize the truths about my own life. The songwriting is a living autobiography, and it is a therapeutic process in itself. So when I started writing, these songs came out… Music has these tiny hands and they go into our hearts and they help us think and feel. 

How is it to have to sing them in public?

When you sing, it’s moving sound, and the vibrations in your body can be quite profound. Music is a mystery. It makes people cry, it makes them empathize. It goes deeper than words, for me and the audience. 

You’ve been with your band members for years. 

They’re like my family, and they’re so good. Being with them nightly is almost like prayer as we try to make the music reverent. 

So do “Cowboys” and “Wait” still resonate for you?

I think my songs stand the test of time, even though they were overplayed. I still believe in them. I do hear the woman in her twenties, in the 1990s in New York City, and the anger she was going through. I’m just so much softer as a person now, and I don’t honestly feel like singing some of the songs, but they’re therapeutic when I do sing them. I’m older, I’m wiser, and I’m softer.