LANIE LANE

Rock­a­billy’s new kid on the block.

Sunday Tasmanian - Tassie Living - - Front Page - DAVID CRADDOCK

FORMER florist Lanie Lane, 24, is sit­ting on a bean bag star­ing out over Sun­set Boule­vard. Last week she was rid­ing horses in Nashville and play­ing in le­gendary record store Grimey’s, where she swapped sin­gles with the Queen Of Rock­a­billy, Wanda Jack­son.

Apart from a shared love of hip-shak­ing tunes and pin-up hair­cuts, Jack­son ( a one-time squeeze of Elvis Pres­ley) and this softly spo­ken singer-song­writer share a pro­ducer pal – Mu­sic City’s new­est man be­hind the mix­ing desk, Jack White. Jack­son and Lane have both re­cently been granted a rare in­sight into White’s Wonka-es­que, ana­logue-only record­ing stu­dio Third Man Records, record­ing in the fa­cil­ity that was es­tab­lished by the rock ’ n’ roll re­nais­sance man as the sun set on The White Stripes.

For an artist deeply in­flu­enced by Amer­ica’s big­gest cul­tural exports – rhythm ’ n’ blues, coun­try, jazz and rock­a­billy – ‘‘ liv­ing the dream’’ doesn’t even be­gin to sum up Lane’s fairy­tale year so far.

‘‘ In the same re­spect as Willy Wonka, it’s like a mys­tery un­til you go in there and you can’t re­ally ex­plain it when you get out,’’ Lane says of the stu­dio, down the line from LA.

‘‘ You’re not al­lowed to take pho­tos or any­thing like that – it’s all very pri­vate. The at­ten­tion to de­tail is mind-bog­gling and every­thing is per­fectly co-or­di­nated. It’s very much white, black and yel­low [ the Third Man colours].

‘‘ Every­thing looks amaz­ing and sounds amaz­ing and there’s not a sin­gle com­puter in the stu­dio.’’ Though cut­ting a lim­ited-edi­tion 7’’ on White’s in­vi­ta­tion was a huge buzz, it was far more than a one-off creative ex­cur­sion for an artist who this

month re­leased her de­but al­bum, To The Horses. Self-pro­duced in Aus­tralia in a sim­i­larly stripped-back fash­ion, the ma­jor­ity of To The Horses was recorded in Stu­dio Rip­ple, a one-room fa­cil­ity in Syd­ney’s CBD. Other takes were recorded in Liv­ing End front­man Chris Cheney’s Red Door Sounds stu­dio in Mel­bourne and in a stu­dio at the back of a Mel­bourne prop­erty Lane calls home.

Af­ter a life work­ing odd jobs as a waiter, florist and even on a bot­tling line in a Mar­garet River vine­yard, she says see­ing White’s com­mit­ment to cre­ativ­ity just be­fore the al­bum’s re­lease has con­firmed a de­sire to forge her own path.

‘‘ It was very in­spi­ra­tional, I think I’d re­ally like to live by a motto of just re­ally hav­ing a vi­sion and see­ing it through and not kind of wa­ver­ing,’’ she says.

Lane’s sassy voice jumps from a Bil­lie Hol­i­day croon to a Mem­phis Min­nie snarl in an in­stant on the bril­liant al­bum which, with its spon­ta­neous, roomy, ‘ all the cats back to my place’ pro­duc­tion, brings to mind artists such as Kitty, Daisy and Lewis, Holly Go­lightly and even Amy Wine­house.

‘‘ For me it’s less about spe­cific [ in­flu­ences] and more about dif­fer­ent gen­res all go­ing in and then what I’ve done for my first al­bum is al­most a syn­the­sis of that,’’ she says.

An­other syn­the­sis she’s clearly adept at achiev­ing is a mix be­tween modern, rock­a­billy and pin-up fash­ion. How­ever there’s one as­pect of Lane’s ap­pear­ance she re­fuses to change – her crooked teeth.

‘‘ You kind of have to ac­cept your faults as well,’’ she says.

‘‘ I’ve got re­ally, re­ally crazy teeth. I don’t have straight teeth and some­one once told me a few years ago . . . ‘ well you’ll have to get your teeth fixed be­cause as soon as you go over to the States they’ll take one look at you and tell you you’re not ready [ and] why are you even over here?’. That’s ab­so­lute bull.’’

To The Horses

Out now ( Ivy League Records)

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