Then and now: Sass Jordan on the 30th anniversary of Tell Somebody

Thirty years ago, Sass Jordan released her debut album, 1988's Tell Somebody, a rambunctious and rowdy rock-and-blues record that positioned the singer-songwriter as a major new voice in Canrock — and a notably different one compared to the rest of the scene, which comprised mostly white men.

The record earned Jordan the 1989 Juno Award for most promising female vocalist and her distinctly husky tone was equal parts rough and tumble. It was sexy and fun, but also low, therefore synonymous with the idealized "cool girl" timbre. Four years after Tell Somebody, which sparked four singles, Jordan released her followup album, 1992's Racine, which resulted in five singles. Jordan's seventh album, 2009's From Dusk 'Til Dawn, is also her most recent, but the musician and former Canadian Idol judge isn't ready to call it quits. Jordan's back in the recording studio and she's also reflecting on her more than three decades in the music industry.

Jordan spoke with CBC Music over the phone about getting famous overnight yet not getting credit for her work, "barking up the ass of 60" and why she'll never stop making music — even though she can't make a living from it.

Do you remember the process of writing your songs for Tell Somebody and the record coming out in 1988?

That record was years in the making insofar as I had been writing songs and recording them for, I'd say at least five years prior to that I think. I started playing in bands in the '70s — in the '70s! Holy crap. It's unbelievable to me. But anyways, so that particular record, I finally found somebody that I can write a whole bunch of songs with, and they made sense, and I had the money, and I had the record deal and all of that stuff you needed in those days.

I think the key to the success of that record were the music videos, because it was the beginning of MuchMusic in Canada. It was in the early days, so they didn't have a lot of content yet, especially not Canadian content. And so when my stuff came out, it was like, "Yay! We get to play something Canadian!" And it just went immediately in high rotation.

In those days, of course, because it was so new, every single retail shop that you'd go into would be playing MuchMusic or MusiquePlus, as it was in Quebec. It was just everywhere and it was almost overnight. It was crazy, from being known locally to suddenly the entire country would recognize me. Everywhere I went, I would get recognized, which was a bit of a shock. That was in the days before, really, everyone was famous. Now everybody's famous, and it's really kind of exciting when somebody isn't. And it terrified me. Honestly, it really scared me. I was like, "Oh, I gotta get out of here!" So I moved to Los Angeles, rapidly, after that. [She laughs] Of course, why would you do that unless you wanted to be bigger? I've never been that bright. And that would've been the perfect example of stupidity. But anyways, yeah, it was just a bigger pond, and I was a smaller fish. I think I felt comfortable as the underdog. I think I've always been more comfortable as the underdog.

Did you get compared to a lot of people at the time?

Not really. I got the usual: Stevie Nicks, Bonnie Tyler, Melissa Etheridge, Janis Joplin. Melissa Etheridge was pretty much contemporary with me. She came out around the same time. And I think Stevie Nicks and Bonnie Tyler was because they had blond hair and sort of scruffy voices like me. But the real reason I didn't get compared to many people is because there weren't that many. There weren't that many female singers — and to this day, there still aren't — that were doing that style of music.

I feel like in the '80s there was so much pressure — and please feel free to tell me that I'm wrong — to have a hit record and to churn out another record really fast. But you have this four-year gap, which I think is super interesting.

Well, first of all, I relocated to a different country, because I had a wonderful manager there that I loved. And then I had to find the right people to work with. And I found someone, dumped him, got involved with this other person, dumped them, and went back to the old one. It just took a lot of time, and getting all the business stuff together and this, that, and the other thing, and it just took a lot of time. I've always taken forever between records, I have to admit, except for Racine and Rats.

In 1992 Racine came out, and it did phenomenally well. It was just short of gold in the U.S., and it was double-platinum or something in Canada. And then in 1993, grunge happened. It was difficult enough as it was to get me even on the radio back in those days in the first place with Racine, because what would happen every single time when my promotions people would talk to their radio stations everywhere in the country. They would get, "Yeah, we can't add that because we're already playing a female" — a female, one. One female. "We can't have two." Can you imagine that? That's the god's honest truth. That's what we would hear, over and over.

It's still happening to this day. It's insane.

Oh, I totally believe it, which is odd. But radio at this point, what is radio? [Snorts] Who cares? It's irrelevant. [Laughs] It's irrelevant for people like me. I'm completely irrelevant. As much as they would say to you that we're irrelevant, they're irrelevant too. So that's a mutual feeling there, buddy.

In 1989 when you won the Juno for most promising female vocalist, did you have a vision of what even the next five years would look like for you at that point?

No, and I think that's probably been the biggest challenge in my life is I've never really paid much attention to what's coming up, and I really should, other than next week. And I think it would be really helpful if you sort of have a plan laid out, because then, you don't have to skip to it, but at least you have some sort of structure. And I think that's one of my weakest points, shall we say. I just go like, "Woo! That sounds exciting," and then I go off on that direction, then I go in this direction, then I go in this direction. I just follow my heart, and I follow the fun, for me, what I consider fun. And I would not suggest that anyone else do that. Not if you wanna be a huge music star, a hugely successful music star.

You're always described as a vocalist, which obviously, yes, you are. But until I did a little bit more digging, I didn't fully appreciate that you are a songwriter who has co-written and written tons of songs, that you've participated in the production of your music, and oh, hey, you're a bass player and a bunch of other things.

I was. I haven't played bass in years.

OK, fair. I don't know if it's deliberate or not, but I feel like there's a little bit of erasure in not naming some of those things.

Yeah, 100 per cent I agree with you, although there are a great deal of women now that are recognized for doing everything, but in my case, definitely not. Even when I was the bass player in the band in bars, people would come up after the show, in between the set, and they'd go, "So who's playing bass?" "I'd be like, uh, dude, you just effing watched the show." "But who's actually, who's really playing? Where are they?" I'm like, "Are you kidding me, you asshole?" It was so ridiculous. It was insane. And I have always been the type of person — this is something I've never said publicly, I don't think — that always wants to give whoever I'm working with the lion's share of the spotlight, so to speak. It's so weird, I don't know what it is about me. I'm always like, "Ah, no, you did it all." But no, no you didn't. So I don't know what it is. It's this kind of inherent "Let's just play it all down" type of thing I have. That's a personality thing I guess.

I'm very much involved in all those things. But you know why? Because it's my voice and my face and my name in the end, and I don't think I have ever asserted that enough and taken enough control myself. Again, a personality-type thing, one I can control publicly, obviously. But it's a big deal to me. If I'm singing a song, I'm much happier — I'm never gonna sing a song that I didn't write the words to, unless it's an incredible cover song that I've loved my whole life type of thing. And people will continuously send you songs, and I'm like, "That's a lovely song. But I didn't write that." The reason I started singing, part of the reason, was because I had something to say. I wanted to say it. And I still have — this is my opportunity to express myself. It's a big deal.

It is a big deal, and I think there's all different reasons why we might lean into a hyper inherent humility.

Yeah. I think it's a female thing, especially from my generation. I really do, because you don't see guys doing that, do you?

You sure don't, and I think about that a lot. Being proud and confident about what you do and not having to apologize for being awesome is something that we sort of had to unlearn as women.

I do have to say that I see it a lot more now. I find that there's a lot more, or appears that way, assertiveness and self-confidence and stepping up and going, "Yeah, I did that" in a lot of the women that are out now. You certainly did not see that back in those days, that's for sure. Thirty gosh-danged years ago, goddamn! Where's my cane? You know what I mean? Holy crap. But yeah, things have changed so dramatically, and they will continue to. Thank the Lord, I say. Thank the Lord.

I know this is one of those sort of hokey last questions, but I was wondering if you had life advice to give to young Sass Jordan in 1988 on the release of her debut record. Is there anything that you would tell her?

Yeah. Quit paying so much attention to boys, you turkey. [Laughs] That's the truth. Don't get so sidetracked by stupid men, you turkey. You are a turkey! And then I'd hug her and say it's OK.

That's perfect life advice, and I think a lot of us can benefit from that.

Oh, my goodness, yeah. Thank you for asking, because that's the God's honest truth. I think that was also another one of my main downfalls, because I would just get, "[gasp] I love this guy! He's the end of the world! He knows everything! I'm just gonna give him all my power. Here you go, bro."

"Here you go, bro" — that could also be the subtitle of a really great memoir.

Yeah, let's write it together!