Olivia defends syrupy music
by JIM MILLICAN, WINNIPEG (CP)
Anyone attending an Olivia Newton-John press conference in the hope of coming away with an insight into the young female pop singing sensation is soon brought to his senses.
She presents hsrself to a room full of media reporters, mostly male, and insinuates the same image that is familiar from her television exposure - the same feel that oozes from the grooves of her records.
Olivia reveals a boyish shyness combined with the tremendous good looks and perfect poise of an upper-middle-class English woman. In fact she’s Australian.
An immediate impression lasts. She is not nearly as devastatingly beautiful as her photograph would lead you to believe rather the kind of young woman who would stand out in a crowd and certainly the kind of girl Mom would be happy to have marry her eldest son. The male-dominated audience shuffles its feet, mumbles its questions and is generally over-awed by the preconceived image rather than anything they’re actually seeing.
Olivia delivers her short answers self-effacingly and the room grins back at her as one. It must all look a little silly through her eyes.
Olivia Newton-John has sold millions of records in the last three years and has scored big individual hits with songs like If You Love Me, Have You Never Been Mellow, I Honestly Love You, Let Me Be There and Please Mr. Please. She’s also won a lot of awards including a Grammy as Best Female Country Vocalist. The Country Music Association named her Female Vocalist of The Year in 1974 and in ‘75 she won the American Music Award for Album of The Year, beating out both Elton John and The Eagles. Olivia is a hot box-office property packing them in all over the world.
As the creampuff questions of the press grind to a halt Olivia poses for photos, smiles into cameras flanked by record company executives who hand her gold albums that signify success, and then cuts a huge cake with another round of flashbulbs popping. She is finally ushered into the semi-privacy of a corner for a more formal interview but is immediately surrounded by a swarming group who seem oblivious of her disinterest and the long glances she throws to the back of the room where her boyfriend-producer-guitar player stands against the wall.
Mostly her answers are formal and controlled, but occasionally she gives vent to defensive aggressiveness.
“How do you put something of yourself into such a syrupy piece of pop music as “I Honestly Love You?”
“Why do you say it’s syrupy?” she flashes.
“Because that sentiment seems totally cliched to me when it’s put on a piece of plastic.”
“You amaze me,” she says, leaning forward. “I disagree totally. I think a lot of people have loved somebody and because of attachments neither could do anything about it.”
“Who were you singing it for, then?” the questioner is hoping to find a shred of real emotion tucked away in there.
“Everyone. Part of singing is acting and that’s called interpretation. Whoever I was singing it for is my business. Maybe you need to fall in love a few times and then you’ll feel it.”
Olivia’s concert performance leans heavily into the country pop sound which most of her records have delivered. It’s sort of twangy and maybe a little tacky, but well arranged and impeccably played by a band big enough for a Vegas show stage. The crowd is pleased to be hearing the songs, especially the hits, by the adorable little blonde with the breathy delivery and the Hollywood dance steps.
I tell her I think she is the perfect Doris Day for the ’70s but stop short of confessing the dream: Olivia Newton-John marries John Denver, and 15 years from now we’re watching their first son who turns out to be the new Pat Boone for the 1980s.