SANDI THOM'S greatest offence is that she is deemed too ordinary. When we meet in a Glasgow hotel bar, she is all accommodating smiles and inoffensive banter as she sips a glass of wine. While Amy Winehouse continues on the path of self-destruction, ranting on doorsteps and the like, Thom turns up to do an interview with her big brother Chris in tow. At first I assume he is her manager or PR person (though, rather mischievously, he tells me he is her driver) but he's just too darn friendly. Then he insists on buying the first round, and when I discover he is a pilot, utter confusion sets in. As the tape recorder goes on, it's clear he's going nowhere.
In an era of knicker flashing and success measured by column inches, that Thom is so ordinary is seen as something of an issue. While others would have courted such a classic rags-to-riches success story (girl from Macduff webcasts gigs from her London basement flat and ends up selling more than a million albums), Thom issued a two-fingered salute to everyone by disappearing from the scene for two years. In that time she toured the world and penned her second album, Pink And The Lily, released this month.
It all started in 2006 when Thom's single, 'I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker', bumped Gnarls Barkley's 'Crazy' off the top spot. The young Scot believed she was wistfully extolling the virtues of the psychedelic Sixties – before her time obviously – but she was immediately berated for her "nonsensical" lyrics about being a punk rocker "with flowers in her hair". Then came the backlash, and the demands for the real Sandi Thom to please stand up.
She remains remarkably sanguine about the experience. "In this industry, you have to learn to take the positives with the negatives," she says. "If you can't do that, you're not going to survive. That's the reality. You take it on the chin."
When Thom emerged from her Tooting basement in 2006, she became one of the early poster girls for the internet sensation generation, appearing on the scene a few months earlier than Lily Allen. An overnight phenomenon, tens of thousands logged on to Thom's webcast to see the next big thing and, fuelled by the online buzz, Sony signed her up. A number one single, album and Brit nomination quickly followed. Of course, the laws of the music industry tell us that what goes up must inevitably come crashing down. Thom may have successfully sold more than a million records and built a loyal fanbase, but the naysayers came calling. How, they demanded, was she able to sustain production of the webcasts as an independent artist? Had Sony orchestrated the campaign all along? Was the whole thing just a huge PR stunt?
Had it happened today, now that we are so au fait with our pop artists making it in cyberspace before they venture out into the real world, perhaps her treatment would not have been so harsh. "I was never prepared for the media onslaught and I never knew what that would feel like," she admits. "So as well as being excited about the positives of this successful song and album, it was kind of weird."
Whatever the truth, few can argue that Thom has succeeded where others have failed. Ask her to sum up her most memorable moment in the past two years and she can barely keep the smile from her face. She was walking through Times Square at the end of 2006 and looked up to see her 'Punk Rocker' video being played on one of the huge screens. "Nothing had quite sunk in at that point, and there I was, standing on my own. I cried because it was so monumental."
The tour and her popularity overseas took her to France, Japan and Australia, where 'Punk Rocker' reached number one in the charts for 10 weeks, making it Australia's highest-selling single of that year. Whatever we may think of her here, she is big news all over the world.
Thom's experiences from the last year have all affected the writing of Pink And The Lily, a catchy mix of Americana, folk, rock and pop. It is, she agrees, a far more mature offering than her debut. "I wanted this album to be about the music, you know: I don't want to give anyone an excuse to have a go," she says. Not that the 26-year-old Thom would ever be naïve enough to think she'll get a free ride, which perhaps explains why she keeps her band – and brother – close and prefers to stay out of the spotlight. "It (the family] is incredibly close-knit… they don't just tell me what I want to hear. They keep me grounded. Where I've come from has made me appreciate where I've come to."
She looks to her brother. "As kids we grew up with a lot. Our parents divorced, we moved around: I've seen a lot of heartache and the dark side of life. I'd never count my chickens. I want to achieve a lot more, but I never want to be up my own arse."
What about the Winehouse effect? Does she ever worry about the pitfalls of gaining success so quickly? "I'm lucky," she laughs. "I was nowhere near Winehouse proportions, but I've gone out and lived enough of that kind of hairy lifestyle to get bored of it by now. I love going out on the road and having a drink after a show, but it happens in my own space and time. It's not something I go out and publicly display."
Something she isn't so shy about is her opinions on politics and current affairs, which pop up on the album on tracks about the corporate career path and global warming. While it's been reported that the SNP have paid Thom in the past to show her support, she offers up considerably more than the usual inane soundbite when I ask her about her affiliations.
"We are becoming more and more global," she says. "Europe is a collection of countries and the United Kingdom may not be as strong as it used to be. I don't see the problem with Scotland being a self-contained country within the EU: it's not like you're going to drive to the border and go off a cliff. We're still going to be attached. I think it would be good for us to be in control of our own assets.
"It's what I think and I don't mind saying that," she continues. "Besides, Alex Salmond is cool. I've spent a little time with him in the last year or so and he's a really cool guy, quite funny. He likes to joke about, and stuff."
All the shoulder-rubbing with politicians is, of course, secondary to her music. "I love recording and playing live, but all the other shite that comes along with it, column inches or whatever, I'm not interested in," she says. Brother Chris interjects, nodding in his sister's direction: "It's about keeping it real dude, and not falling out of taxis with your pants showing… or no pants at all." They both start laughing.
Later, Thom rubs her foot sheepishly and admits that she has in fact "done a bit of a Patsy" and fallen out of a cab at the weekend while drunk. "It was all a bit Ab Fab," she giggles. No flashlights were there to capture the moment, though, and no headlines ensued. I get the impression that's just how she likes it.
As I'm preparing to leave, Thom, unprompted, begins to search through her phone for pictures of her mum's new puppy. "She's gorgeous; you have to see her," she announces, grinning at her brother and squeezing her battered toe back into a high-heeled ankle boot. The sight is so unscripted and unstarry that even the harshest critic would surmise that the ordinary can, on occasion, be quite extraordinary.
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Sandi Thom's single 'The Devil's Beat' is released on May 12 (download), May 19 (physical) and the album, The Pink and The Lily, on May 26. Thom will be performing gigs and signing albums at HMVs in Glasgow, Aberdeen, Dundee, Perth and Edinburgh on May 26 and 27 •
www.sandithom.comThe full article contains 1442 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
