Singer Q &A “I’m a man… I watch foot­ball and eat na­chos, so please don’t paint me as An­to­nio Ban­deras”

Sunday Herald Sun - Stellar - - Q & A - In­ter­view by AL­LEY PAS­COE By Invitation EDP is avail­able ex­clu­sively at Chemist Ware­house.

You have just launched your first fra­grance, By Invitation, in Aus­tralia. Were you afraid of be­ing la­belled a sell-out for do­ing a celebrity scent? I know how a lot of these deals are done: a com­pany comes to an artist and they say, “We’re go­ing to pay you a blan­kety-blank load of money and all you have to do is hold the bot­tle and smile.” They ba­si­cally pay to li­cence their name. Maybe that’s fine for some, but for me, there was a great risk putting out a fra­grance. I had no in­ter­est in the money, I needed to know that it was go­ing to be beau­ti­ful and high-end. At the New York launch re­cently, I walked past a room full of jour­nal­ists and heard one of them say, “Oh, this isn’t sh*t at all!” When you were work­ing on the fra­grance, did you find your­self sniff­ing women on the street? [Laughs.] I don’t think I sniffed women on the street, no, but I was def­i­nitely far more aware of scent. They wanted to name it Haven’t Smelt You Yet – I thought it was tacky. I liked By Invitation be­cause, es­sen­tially, that’s what I was do­ing: I was invit­ing women to try a new fra­grance. You are a self-con­fessed hope­less ro­man­tic – what would you say is the most ro­man­tic thing you’ve ever done? I’m a man. My great happiness is sit­ting in my un­der­wear watch­ing NFL foot­ball and eat­ing na­chos, so please don’t paint me as An­to­nio Ban­deras in a movie – I’m not. I am a hope­less ro­man­tic, but I don’t think ro­mance comes at an oc­ca­sion. Ro­mance comes out of the blue. It’s do­ing the dishes when your part­ner is tired; it’s kind­ness and em­pa­thy, hu­mour and self-dep­re­ca­tion. Your wife [ac­tor Luisana Lopi­lato] is a megas­tar in Ar­gentina. How does it feel to be the sec­ond most fa­mous per­son in the room when you’re there? I’m ba­si­cally the selfie pho­tog­ra­pher. Peo­ple push me out of the way and hand me their smart­phone, and I take shots of them with my wife for their In­sta­gram. I should re­ally have photo cred­its from a mil­lion peo­ple – #Buble­took­this. You’ve said you take on the role of “Mr Mum” when your wife is film­ing. Do you think fa­thers face the same strug­gle with work and life bal­ance as moth­ers? Of course. There’s no such thing as per­fect bal­ance. You do your best, but it’s im­pos­si­ble. I de­cide what has to lose if there’s a bat­tle [be­tween work and fam­ily], and there is no doubt my kids are my pri­or­ity. When I de­fine my­self, I’m a fa­ther. My job is singing and en­ter­tain­ing; it’s not who I am. My fam­ily will be there for­ever and who knows what hap­pens with fame and for­tune – they come and go. You’ve got to keep that in per­spec­tive be­cause if it goes away and that’s all you have, you are hooped. What is your big­gest fear on­stage? I don’t al­low my­self to feel fear as a per­former. I’m sure deep within my

sub­con­scious I’m afraid of ev­ery­thing, but I don’t al­low my­self to re­ceive those mes­sages. If I did, I would be stopped by fear and I can’t al­low that. It’s much too easy to set my­self up for fail­ure if I al­low those neg­a­tive thoughts to fes­ter and grow. It’s been more than a decade since your al­bum It’s Time was re­leased. Are you sick of peo­ple ask­ing if you’re “Feel­ing Good”? They never ask that! Peo­ple say, “Oh my god, Michael Bublé: I just haven’t met you yet.” And they love to make the Christ­mas joke, “Oh it’s July, I didn’t know you came out any­time but Christ­mas.” I – jok­ingly – tell them to toss off. You found fame in your late 20s. Are you glad it happened that way? I am. I look at peo­ple such as Meghan Trainor or Harry Styles – they got re­ally fa­mous re­ally young and they’ve han­dled it beau­ti­fully. They are down-to-earth, nor­mal peo­ple; kind and hum­ble. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to han­dle it the way they have. I came from a nor­mal blue-col­lar fam­ily – we had no con­nec­tion to the busi­ness and we didn’t have very much money. I worked on my fa­ther’s fish­ing boat, at the beer and wine store and at the cloth­ing store. I’m glad I had the per­spec­tive of know­ing what hard work was and how hard it was to make a dol­lar, be­cause it gave me a chance to be ap­pre­cia­tive and not take how lucky I am for granted. Is there hope for Justin Bieber? We all make poor de­ci­sions. You make poor de­ci­sions – you just don’t have some­one film­ing ev­ery one of them. Lis­ten, I’m 41 years old. Hope­fully I’ve grown up by now. Ob­vi­ously I still make mis­takes; hope­fully I learn from them. That’s the thing about life ex­pe­ri­ence and get­ting older. And I f*ck­ing fully ex­pect Justin Bieber to make poor de­ci­sions. I can’t imag­ine the pres­sure of be­ing con­stantly judged in the pub­lic eye. I know this sounds crazy, but I think he could have done a lot worse. You’re not wrong. Thanks for your time. Thank you. Do me a favour? Get f*ck­ing wasted tonight and do some­thing stupid. Do it for Bieber. And as you’re mak­ing out with that com­pletely weird stranger on the dance floor just yell out, “Bieber!”

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