Beth Hart

Battling addiction and childhood trauma, the singersongwriter found succour in just one place: music.

Beth Hart’s blues draws on a life damaged for decades by childhood traumas including an armed home invasion. Her rip-saw vocals, open-hearted gigs and songwriting which sees her staring her past straight in the eye have led to work with high-profile fans including Joe Bonamassa, and assured solo albums which range across blues, rock and jazz.

You’ve had a lot of great collaborators. Is Joe Bonamassa the most important in helping you along your path?

So many incredible people have helped me. I’m one of the rare people that, having been in the music business so long, I don’t have anyone I could say anything bad about. I’ve never experienced chauvinism in the business. In terms of the big boys, the first one I worked with was Jeff [Beck], and he was so respectful and sweet and humble. It was the same with Slash. And then with Joe, never once did he tell me what to sing, or how to sing, or do this. And we’ve just made our third studio record together. I’m really thankful because I heard so many warnings when I was starting out: “Be careful, because they’ll try to literally screw you, or screw you financially.”

A lot of the female singers you admire – Billie Holiday, Janis Joplin – sang from a lot of pain and flamed out early. What do you think of that tradition, and are you in it?

There’s something to be said for someone in life, whether it’s an artist or not, having that willingness to really be open about what scares them or hurts them. Because if I’m feeling down and someone walks in and says, ‘My heart’s broken and I just want to die,’ I’m not happy that you wanna die, but I’m happy that I’m not the only one.

What has affected you that way?

I remember the first broken-hearted musician I ever heard. It’s what drove me to the piano. I heard Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on the television. And [starting to cry] you can really hear his longing. What ran through my head was: “You know what it is to love.” And that’s why I wanted to make music, because I guess I felt like I could find God again if I did.

I remember at that time my dad was really sick, and cheating on mum. He gambled away our house, went to prison, and almost overnight it went from this beautiful home to everyone’s hearts being broken. I remember that happening as a little girl, and hearing that song, and then I went to the piano in the middle of the night. So it’s not that I don’t write songs that are joyous and from the hip sometimes. But the main reason I go to music is when I’m suffering or afraid or in doubt. I go back to it because it was always there for me.

You had a number of addictions when you were younger. Do you find that you binge on songwriting now?

I don’t know if I’d call it addiction now. One of the beautiful things about getting older is that life starts to teach you how to live it a little bit. I’m forty-five. Right around forty, things started to shift [against alcoholism and Hart’s bipolar illness]. And my career has gotten more successful as I’ve gotten older. A lot of things have come that have whittled down that monster inside that always needs to fill up a void. That monster will always be with me, but it’s very tiny now. I don’t feel it can take me over.

Black Coffee is out now via Provogue/ Mascot. Hart tours from April 10.