Kelly Clarkson talks about the sense of isolation that led to her breakup album, ‘Chemistry,’ and why she feels good about leaving that behind for TV.
Who wouldn’t want to sing Kelly-oke to a brand new Kelly Clarkson album? But just be prepared to go to a few darker places, as some of the deeply confessional songs on “Chemistry” come up, many of them prompted by her 2020 divorce from Brandon Blackstock and the events that led up to it. Even if she insists that she put some of the most baldly personal songs she wrote away in a drawer, what’s left is still altogether autobiographical, having been written during some of her darkest days roughly three years ago.
Not that it’s entirely daunting stuff; Clarkson made sure to include some songs harking further back in her relationship, before the chemistry went sour, to cover the heat generated in the early stages of a relationship, too. She joined Variety via Zoom to discuss the full arc of what “Chemistry” covers.
You’ve said you wrote a lot of the material for this album on planes going back and forth, late at night. What was going on then, and why was that such a good place to get your feelings out?
Those were very emotional moments. First of all, I was exhausted emotionally, just from going through a divorce. And I was working very hard, two or three jobs at once, plus flying my kids. Every night I’d go right after work, have to fly, then fly back. I’d have my headphones on and everything would go away. It was dark and, because it was always at nighttime and 35,000 feet in the air, it’s the one place where people aren’t really bothering you and talking to you and wanting something from you, so it was a still environment. I think that’s why. I didn’t plan it. Yeah, there were a lot of tear-filled airplane rides, writing these songs.
Did you ever find when you were writing songs that you were able to use them to sort of decide what you were thinking or feeling, in a way that you couldn’t if you were just thinking it through without having that form to it?
Yeah, that’s the thing. I wasn’t writing, like, “This is gonna be a record.” I was literally writing because that’s my form of therapy. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a relationship where you just don’t know. You’re like, “Have I tried harder? Am I doing all I can?” You’re still on the fence; you just don’t know which way you’re gonna go, and you’ve felt like you’ve just been doing that, treading water, for so long. So I think — I don’t think, I know — that’s my form of figuring out: What am I feeling? It’s my way of getting through something.
Which just so happens to be a way of connecting with people, obviously, too, deciding to put some of these songs out. Because that’s the worst part, man, when you are alone and you feel like, as much as you try and describe your situation, no one knows that in their world like you do in yours. That’s true for everyone. So it could just feel very isolating, along with a global pandemic and trying to make America smile via a talk show. It felt very isolating and I just felt alone. And I think that’s one of the main reasons for releasing it for me. It’s like, man, if this helps one person relate to something or helps them through the grieving process, it’s worth it.
Not to be reductive and just call it a divorce album, but there are a lot of artists who’ve written albums in that circumstance in the last few years — Adele, Kacey Musgraves, the Chicks, Kelsea Ballerini have all written kind of post-divorce albums. And one thing those maybe have in common with yours is, when you sing in one of the lines, “It’s all over town. Why did she leave him?” It has to do with writing about being the one who decides to leave, and not getting dumped, which is more common pop songwriting. So is part of writing in any way thinking you feel like I need to explain why you made certain choices?
No, I don’t feel that pressure. I think just most times if you think of your favorite albums that stick out to you — “Jagged Little Pill,” or most of Joni Mitchell’s records — unfortunately, a lot of great, relatable, hit-you-where-it-counts music comes from tragedy. Like, “Imagine,” John Lennon… that didn’t come from a happy experience. It came from like experiencing something horrible and trying to get at it through hope. By no means am I comparing my record to any of those people or to John Lennon’s “Imagine.” But I just think a lot of music in general that people relate to comes from hard times.
You know, even when I was making my Christmas record (2021’s “When Christmas Comes Around…”), that’s kind of a breakup Christmas album. Think of “Hard Candy Christmas”; that song is one of the most famous Christmas songs, and it’s one of my favorite songs of Dolly’s, and that’s a really sad song. It’s a song about hard times. With these kinds of albums, people are curious because during hard times people tend to get more raw, vulnerable and honest. And it’s relatable, instead of hearing you come out with some kind of pop-dance anthem that feels good, but it’s fleeting. But some songs and some albums last for fans for forever.
Then you do have a few of the lighter songs on the album, the kind of sexual energy songs, like “Chemistry” and…
“Chemistry” is lighter? Oh my God, I love that’s how you saw it.
