LUCINDA WILLIAMS

The Americana maverick on whammies, Dylan and getting hitched on stage.

ar from slowing down now she is 63, Louisiana-born Lucinda Williams is in a very un-Southern hurry. A career that took years to bloom only to progress in fits and starts now has fresh momentum. Her new album, The Ghosts Of Highway 20, is a double, released just 18 months after its predecessor, Down Where The Spirit Meets The Bone, also a double. Songs almost bleeding with urgency reflect an artist who really does seem to have one less layer of skin; live in London she breaks down seconds into a song and has to start again: “It’s all right, honey,” she reassures her husband and manager, Tom Overby, side-stage. “I took my medication.” With Lucinda you get the extra electric crackle of an artist feeling rather than just talking about the passion. Nor in person do you meet

Fa languid Southern belle; more like a cat on a hot tin roof.

Why such productivity after years of slow-moving perfectionism?

I was in a horrible, abusive relationship, then in 2004 my mother passed away. A huge double whammy. When I got out of the relationship I found myself writing and writing. Then on January 1, 2015, I lost my father. In between I met my soul mate Tom and got married. Life-changing events. And 30 years ago I was not so secure in my craft skills. Not until my thirties, when the Rough Trade album [Lucinda Williams, 1988] came out, did I really think I can do this. I’d moved to Los Angeles and had some meetings. One guy said, “Well, I don’t think you’re ready yet. None of your songs have bridges.” I had to contend with that a lot – go back to the drawing board. Back in my apartment I got out my Bob Dylan and Neil Young song books and realised that guy was full of shit. The