Midway through my Zoom interview with Jade—who releases her first solo album, That’s Showbiz Baby, this week—the pop star briefly excuses herself to adjust the camera lighting. “I’m not loving this downlight,” she says, disappearing from the frame, only to return a few seconds later with a slightly better illuminated face.
Clearly, Jade is a pro at navigating the business. She has over a decade of experience, after all, first bursting onto the scene as part of the girl group Little Mix when they won The X Factor in 2011. But now, with her first album as a solo act, the star is finally making music on her own terms. “In a band, you’re writing more generic concepts that can relate to everyone,” says Jade. “On my own, I could finally tap into personal experiences, and push it a bit more—and be a bit more controversial lyrically.”
Her six singles thus far—yes, six, and all certified bops—have already offered a glimpse into Jade’s distinct point of view. Her lead track, “Angel of My Dreams,” was a risky (but successful) introduction, a theatrical yet synthy track that voiced her love-hate relationship with the music industry. (The video was also pure pop camp.) She wanted to reintroduce herself as an artist with no bounds. “‘Angel’ will always be that crazy bitch that came out swinging, and it paid off,” says Jade. “It was quite a relief to not have to release a first single that was deliberately chasing radio play or super commercial. I’ve done all that with Little Mix.”
Since then, Jade has followed up the song with even more infectious singles, like the club-worthy “FUFN (Fuck You For Now)” and “Fantasy,” a disco-heavy hit that makes you want to beeline for Studio 54 (with a glamorous video directed by David LaChapelle, no less). Amid a sea of rising pop girls (Sabrina! Chappell!) and enduring pop divas (Gaga! Beyoncé!), Jade exists somewhere beautifully in between—and has used that space to home in on her voice.
So how would Jade describe her sound now? “It’s chaotic Frankenstein pop. It’s theatrical, it’s big and noisy—and it’s me.”
Here, Jade discusses turning sadness and stress into bops, escaping the grasp of girl-group style, and finally feeling reborn.
Vogue: When did you begin ideating for this album?
Jade: When I first started this album, I was fresh out of Little Mix, so I had to take a minute to be like, Whoa. In the words of Lorde, “What was that?” I had to fathom what the last decade of my life was and learn how to exist outside of the group. It took me a minute—a bit of therapy, traveling, and seeing friends and family. But then I started going back and forth to LA and writing with different writers and producers, like MNEK. It was all about experimenting and trying to establish my own sound. Once I started to do that, I got really excited. It took about three years, and I’m so glad I waited because I’ve made better music.
Do you remember what some of the first songs you created were?
One of the first songs I wrote was “Self Saboteur,” and it was very different to what it sounds like now. It was more demure, with very minimal production. I wrote that when I first met my partner, Jordan [Stephens]. Around that time, I was just starting to write more personal songs. I have a history of running away when things get good or being a bit scared of love. I thought it was quite a relatable concept, having that battle with our inner saboteurs.
I imagine that was quite freeing, being able to finally write about whatever you were going through at the time.
As the sessions went on, I found that freedom. I wrote so many songs. Some of them were terrible, some were good—some of them I’m still devastated that they’re not on the album. But there’s always room for it on the deluxe version.
When you say it took three years to make the album, was that because you are a perfectionist in the studio or because you did not want to rush it?
I’m definitely a perfectionist, but I actually really struggled with [having] that time. I’m so conditioned to turn out music. With Little Mix, it was a record a year and a tour on the next one. I definitely had that fear coming out of the group of, like, Oh my God, I’ve got to strike now while there’s hype. Everyone’s going to forget who I am! We’re programmed to crave relevancy, so I had to battle that egotistical energy. But I’m glad I took my time. If I had released it within the first year, we wouldn’t have “Angel of My Dreams” or “Fantasy”—all these bops. By the time I wrote “Angel,” I was hating traveling back and forth to LA; I was over writing and stopped caring what other people thought. And that was when I arguably wrote my best song.
I don’t know if you agree, but I often feel like the best songs come out of total chaos—as though you can’t be too happy when creating art.
I think you’re right: Sometimes, there has to be a little bit of turmoil, stress, or tiredness. And it’s really annoying because obviously that’s draining. It’s quite a toxic mindset to think that you’ve got to be in some sort of pain to write your best. I definitely struggled with that initially, because I was like, I’m in a happy relationship, and I’m getting healthier mentally. I can’t write about that! But the one thing that was really pissing me off was the music industry. So that’s where I landed.
The conversation around Recession Pop is big right now. Do you think the weirder and tougher our world is, the better pop music becomes?
Yes, and it’s because we need it. Pop is the ultimate escapism from the terrors of the world. For me, even when I write about negative things, it’s always sprinkled with this gorgeous poppy-ness, which just makes you feel better again. When I think of COVID, it was Gaga’s [album] Chromatica that got me out of my bedroom and made me happy. Pop is on the rise again because we need it more than ever. And I love that the pop girlies are having a resurgence. They’re really dominating the pop space, as they should, because people are craving that more-is-more energy. We want the costumes, the big choruses, the ad-libs. We want it all.
How does it feel being one of said main pop girlies? I mean, this was a weird summer, yet I heard your songs playing at all the gay bars.
I live for that. I want to be one of the next main pop girlies, and I want to create music that brings people joy or helps them vent frustrations. Songs like “FUFN” and “Plastic Box” have that euphoric escapism. That’s what I’m always striving for myself, and I hope that projects onto my fans—especially my LGBTQ+ fans, whom I adore. I’m aware that I have quite a predominant fan base from that community, so I’m always trying to give people a source of happiness amongst all the political and societal drivel that we’re going through right now.
You do have this amazing ability to turn just about anything into a certified bop.
That’s one of my favorite things to do when I write music. I like to tap into the darkness or trauma or something negative that is happening to me, but then the airy production comes into play. I love happy-sad songs. I love that people can be on the dance floor to my music and then they think of the lyrics and they’re like, “Oh fuck, that’s pretty deep.” I’m always craving that Jekyll and Hyde–ness in a pop song.
“Plastic Box” is very much that to me. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s about being self-conscious about your partner’s ex, right? Wanting someone all to yourself?
Yeah. Meeting Jordan definitely made me confront some of my toxic thoughts, which I think is very relatable. We all go through that, when you’re obsessed with someone and you start doing the Insta stalk on the ex. You’re like, Are they better than me? Did they have more fun with them? The writing process for “Plastic Box” was healing and confrontational for me. My boyfriend wasn’t actually fond of the song when he heard it. He like, “Fuck’s sake, it’s such a toxic thing.” But for me it’s important to be honest. I better myself through my music at times.
In that vein, I also loved your track “Headache.” Do you agree that the best kind of love often involves some headaches?
I absolutely agree. Any relationship is a sacrifice. You’re suddenly having to compromise on yourself, and they have to do the same. And there are clashes. “Headache” literally drew from me saying to my friend Pablo, with whom I wrote it, how much of a bitch I am when I’m premenstrual. That’s how it started, and then it evolved into this literal headache of a song. I wanted the song to literally feel relentless, with a lovely dramatic ending. It’s like the [gates of heaven] open and you realize you can still love me, even though I’m a cunt sometimes.
The album is fun in that the production really matches the vibe of each song. “Glitch,” for example, sounds really glitchy. Was that fun for you?
You have to get it right, because obviously you don’t want to be cheesy. I’m a very visual person, so when I write songs and think of the lyrics, the production should reflect that. I personally quite enjoy being on the nose sometimes. That’s where the humor comes into my music—this idea of seeing dark things but not taking them too seriously. “Glitch” originated from me having an eye twitch when I’m anxious and struggling with the stress of the industry. I wanted it to feel quite electronic. My brain is literally glitching. I wanted it to have a bit of a Janet Jackson feel. I can only dream of writing a “Feedback” by Janet Jackson.
That song is so underrated. But I feel like you really captured magic with your lead single, “Angel of My Dreams.” This was not a safe or conventional single. Was it important to take a risk?
That’s just who I am. With “Angel,” I didn’t care how well it did because I was proud of myself for creating such a bonkers song. So whatever the response would be, I could hold my head up high and be like, That was my creative decision, and this is who I am. For my mental health, it’s nice not to have to think about numbers and charts. I’ve done all that with Little Mix. Now it’s time to experiment and just have fun.
You’ve done some amazing music videos for “Angel” and “Fantasy.” You’re one of the few pop girls who I feel like is truly investing in your videos.
I grew up on music videos. Now people are saying music videos are dying, and I’m just like, No! In pop, we’re such visual artists, and a video can make a song bigger. It tells the story of a song. I understand that it’s harder now for artists to do videos because there is less budget. But I will always find a way—even if that’s putting in my own pocket. I definitely take a more-is-more approach. Especially for my first record, I’ve been able to tell people who I am with every [video].
What was it like working with David LaChapelle on “Fantasy”? Talk about an icon.
David LaChapelle has always been the mood board, so when he got in touch, I literally could not believe it. I had to say, “David, obviously I’m not Britney Spears. We haven’t got a million-pound budget. Can you make it happen?” He was like, “We will do whatever it takes.” Working with him was phenomenal because he’s a diva, in the best way. He’s old school, showbiz personified. I loved that. There was one moment the day before the video [shoot], where he came in the room, literally put me on a pedestal, and brought his seamstresses in. I had the gown on, and they were pulling me apart. He was like, “No, that’s not right, and this isn’t right.” It was so stressful. I thought, Oh my God, this is everything I’ve waited for my whole life.
Fashion is such a big part of pop stardom. What has been your approach to style these days?
My stylist also worked on Little Mix, and the reason I brought them with me was because I knew they hadn’t unlocked their full potential. When you’re in a band, you’re restricted by what everybody wants to do and everyone’s got to match and complement each other. We wanted to make more of a stamp in the fashion world. My energy is kind of Hannah Montana during the day, and when I’m not a main pop girly, it’s quite androgynous and baggy. The pop star Jade is more maximalist. We’ve had a lot of fun working with certain designers who are willing to push that. I’ve felt a lot of freedom fashion-wise as a solo artist, which I maybe didn’t feel before. I’m always open to trying things—and I’m open to not always getting it right.
It is funny to think about this as your first solo album, given that you have been doing this for over a decade. Would you consider this a reintroduction? A new chapter?
It does feel a bit like a rebirth, which sounds quite cheesy. But I have found out so many things about myself in this process. I’ve surpassed my own expectations at times, which has been a lesson for me—of giving myself my own flowers and discovering the fire that I had in my belly, to prove to people that I could get on that stage and give them their money’s worth. There’s still so much to show people that they didn’t get to see in the group. It’s been really cool, converting people to being a Jade stan.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
