Q & A: PJ Harvey
Written by: Mim Udovitch
Source: Rolling Stone (Dec. 2000)

POLLY JEAN HARVEY - whose new record, Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea, is just as astonishing, powerful and nuanced as her previous five - is sitting in a pub in her native Dorset, England. She is wearing a black T-shirt, dark denim skirt and purple-velvet slides. Her toenails are painted red, and she is wearing a silver crucifix, which was given to her by her mother. She is extraordinarily beautiful, and so are the stories from the city and stories from the sea. Known for her raw, turbulent, almost mythical depictions of desire, longing, loss, love and rage, Harvey, on her new album, takes a more serene, connected approach to these subjects. Like the music she makes, she is intelligent and communicative in conversation; unlike the music she makes, she is somewhat reserved.

The songs on this record are very time- and place-specific. Why did you go to New York?
I'd been writing here in Dorset. And I live by the sea - so many of my songs were sounding like the sea. I just thought, "I need a different environment." When you go to an environment that you're not familiar with, it's like you're forced to look at things as if for the first time. And I felt stronger than I've ever felt there - I felt like anything was possible, and all you had to do was make it happen yourself. And I was just feeling overawed with the beauty of it. I felt that it was almost equally magical to watching a beautiful sunset on top of a hill here.

It's also quite a happy record.
I tend not to use the word happy. I find positive to be quite a good word - it's a very positive energy that comes off it. It's proactive rather than reactive. Because as I've got older, the way I articulate my feelings - and the things I've experienced - is changing. I think there's a greater openness in myself these days.

To what do you attribute that?
Having more experience and knowing yourself better brings, I find, a greater confidence. It's kind of like feeling your feet on the ground for the first time, like having a solid place from which to then let other things in - and not be scared to let them in, because you know where you are, and they can't knock you over, or wipe you out or damage you. That's the way I think I've changed: I'm letting a lot more things in, because I can.

In what ways are you a Libra?
I tend to think, with all those astrological things, you can read into it as much truth as you want. But having said that, they say that Libra is all to do with balance. And I constantly feel a bit lopsided. But that's the beauty of it: I keep pursuing perfect balance - that's what keeps me searching. I'm also very aware of opposites and always have been - countryside/city, love/hate, companionship/solitude, all of those things ring loudly in me. And that's a nice position to be in as a writer, I think - it almost provides you with a structure, to write in between the opposites. Though, again, as I'm getting older, I'm doing less swinging around. When I was younger, I did tend to be all over one side, or all over the other; it was all very black-and-white. There's much more gray going on these days.

But not in your clothing.
No. No gray clothing.

Are there any female artists who have influenced your work?
There are female artists that I really admire, like Marianne Faithfull - and she's influential in the sense that when I see her perform I'm completely inspired by her grace and charisma. I mean, if I can come anywhere near to the kind of strength and charisma she has, I'd be very happy. But musically, it's really male artists that I'm inspired by. I have to keep saying Captain Beefheart, because still, I can put on any Beefheart record and be blown away by it; it's just so far ahead. And Bob Dylan, lyrically, is just completely awe inspiring. I'd say they're my two main sources of inspiration.

What do you fear?
My house getting flooded!

A truly practical concern. Is the coast shrinking here?
Yes, every October there are storms, and every October the sea is getting closer to my house. So that's a very real fear. Or fire. My house catching fire could be equally bad.

And what would you run from your burning house with?
I would run from the burning building with my 1967 Fender Telecaster. I'm not particularly a guitarhead kind of person; I don't really know much about them. I just know how they feel. And if someone plays my guitar, I can feel it. I can feel on the neck that somebody else has been there. It's sort of like if you go into a room when somebody else has been there and has left, you can feel that someone has just been in that room, can't you? It's one of those things that you can't quite explain. And I can tell if somebody else has been playing my guitar.