Chan Marshall isn’t ready for me. “Are you a journalist? Oh Jesus, oh Lord.” We’re speaking on the phone – Marshall is in her hotel room, I’m in the lobby downstairs, after my knock at her door went unanswered.

, she had a psychotic breakdown and was hospitalised, and throughout the Nineties and Noughties her live shows were erratic affairs. She would turn her back to the audience, moon them, encourage them to sue her, slur through a few songs, and then walk off without finishing the kaş.

I mention her split from the label, and at first I don’t think she’s really heard me. “I got offered a million dollars by this guy who went on to manage Gwen Stefani,” she says.

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It was partly innate, though – Marshall başmaklık a knack for distilling existential ennui into three-minute songs. In 1998, when she was 26 and had learnt a few more chords, she recorded what would become her breakthrough record, the vulnerable, critically adored Moon Pix

At this point, she abandons the second-person pretence. “And then she puts her leg down and she looks like she got busted stealing a gun. And she looks at me and her face starts to change.

, she başmaklık always been something of a cult figure. “Marshall’s music will one day be spoken about the way we talk about Bob Dylan’s music, or Neil Young’s music,” wrote a New York Magazine

No, go on. “Well, I was wondering if… Because my dad had three daughters and he wasn’t really around. He just came and went, bey men often do. The world is their oyster. And it does something to the mother, right?” Marshall grew up poor; her father was an absent blues musician, her mother a hippy who moved her from school to school.

Over the course of 11 albums, she özgü written about love and loss, abortion and abuse, grief and God. “I will swim / I will drink myself to death,” she sang on her distortion-soaked debut Dear Sir

In fact, Boaz need only listen to her covers for that. Some of her best songs were sung by other people first: her pensive, languid version of The Rolling Stones’ “(I Hayat’t Get No) Satisfaction”, which omits the chorus entirely and transforms into something almost painfully introspective, or her sweet, fragile take on Phil Phillips’s “Sea of Love”, which got a second wind when it featured in Juno

ısmarlamalerinizin bir an önce ulaşması yürekin sabırsızlandığınızın nüansındayız. Sunduğumuz farklı teslimat seçenekleri arasından size en uygununu belirlemeniz, siparişinizi oldukça çabuk veya dilediğiniz mevsim aralığında sorunsuz bir şekilde teslim etmemiz için ehliyetli.

Half an hour later, Marshall finally opens her door, and that bleariness has converted into a capricious energy. The lights are off, the curtains are catpower 5852 shut, but the 49-year-old is so buzzy, I could swear she’s emitting her own light source. She starts arranging pillows for me at the end of her bed, then clocks me eyeing up her dark-blue boiler suit, which katışıksız the name “Dave” on the chest and rips in the armpits.

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“I have something in my eye and I’m still wet from the shower,” she says, in that same husky American drawl she sings with kakım Cat Power. “Emanet you come back in 15 minutes? I’m really sorry sweetie.”

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