Three songs for a sexy playlist: Sarah Blasko’s recommendations

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Sarah Blasko. The singer-songwriter, 48, has been nominated for 18 ARIA Awards and won three. Her new album, I Just Need to Conquer This Mountain, is out in November.

Sarah Blasko: “The way they’d talk about sex at the youth group was that it was just off-limits. I was told such negative things.”

DEATH

What were you told about death growing up? That you go to heaven or hell. I grew up really religious. My parents were missionaries, and church was all based around the idea of the Second Coming.

Were you comforted or horrified by that idea? I just thought, “Well, I’m going to heaven!” [Laughs] But even at the time, I think I knew that it was too simplistic, too black and white. When I was a teenager, I had great friends who had nothing to do with religion and I was sure they wouldn’t be going to hell just because they didn’t believe in God.

So what changed? When I was about 16, my sister and I just basically told our parents, “We think this is wrong” and we all just stopped going [to church]. Our parents listened to us. But what really did it for me was when my mum died when I was 23.

Gee, that’s young to lose your mother. [Nods] After that, the world just didn’t make sense in the same way, particularly the church. I’d go to church and people would ask me how I was feeling. It enraged me.

What did they ask? They had a real cheery kind of vibe, like, “Jesus has got it all sorted out. It’s all right, you’ll see her again soon!” I was, like, I’m not going to see her again soon. You go through so much anger when you’re grieving. Ultimately, the people who had the most heartfelt, human response were people outside the church. When we told our neighbour that my mum had died – I’ll always remember it – he was raking his garden, then he just leant on his rake and said, “Oh, f---” ; he said it about 10 times. I was like, “Yes. That’s how I’m feeling.”

Your next album is titled I Just Need to Conquer This Mountain. It almost sounds like a quest to be done before one dies. What is the mountain? The past.

POLITICS

What big changes in the Australian music industry have you witnessed in your career? In some ways, a lot of things haven’t changed. It’s very cult-like in the way that it operates: there are a lot of big-hitters who rule the industry and nobody wants to upset them because then their career will be over in two seconds. Power structures remain. But they’ve had to show signs of change even if they’re superficial. But I don’t really engage with the music industry; I haven’t felt part of it for most of my career.

You’ve actively kept a distance, you mean? I’ve always felt afraid of starting to think like an “industry person” rather than a musician. When I hear musicians talk like industry people – about their income, about metrics – I just find it grotesque; I’ve really wanted to keep far away from all of that. What I do love is seeing younger women engage with the music industry in ways I wouldn’t have dreamt of. I did feel sexism when I had to do certain video clips or photos; I had to really fight my way through that and butt heads with people. But I get the sense that many younger women aren’t even putting themselves in that situation.

Can you be friends with someone who doesn’t share your politics? No. My partner always jokes that if our kids grow up to become Liberal Party voters, get dreadlocks or become real-estate agents, he’s failed as a parent. [Laughs]

SEX

What were you told about sex growing up? That it was naughty and wrong. It was associated with a lot of guilt, for sure. Particularly as a teenager, the way they’d talk about sex at the youth group was that it was just off-limits. I was told such negative things about it before I’d even started to think about it, which is really f---ing weird.

So where did you get your sex education? There were Judy Blume books as a teenager. I married my first boyfriend, got divorced, then found myself at the age of 26 suddenly alone. I found this book called Sex for One: The Joy of Selfloving [by Betty Dodson]. It absolutely blew my mind. It was just stories of women who’d never masturbated. Also, The Vagina Monologues [by Eve Ensler]. All those women – even in their 80s – having an orgasm for the first time!

What’s sexy about the work that you do? Every time you go on stage, you’re just letting go; you lose yourself when you’re performing. There’s so much drama and adrenaline and beauty. I just love music so much. I come alive when I listen to music or play it. You’re just being your true, primal self.

Which is what sex is, too, right? [Nods] And a lot of people don’t get that in their job!

What’s unsexy about music? Touring’s pretty unsexy.

Oh, I can smell it already. I mean, touring’s great, too. But there’s a lot of waiting around and sharing rooms with people and having to work out when you’re each going to poo in the toilet. [Laughs]

So what’s better? A good performance or good sex? They’re both great, obviously. But if somebody said, “Right now, you could get up on stage … ” I’d be, like, on stage, for sure.

Make a sexy playlist for me. Sade’s No Ordinary Love. There’d have to be INXS’s Original Sin. And U2’s … God, this is a really daggy playlist …

No, keep going, I love it! With or Without You!

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