8 minute read
Skin
Surface tension
When it comes to race, gender and sexuality, SKIN – lead singer of British rock band Skunk Anansie – has fought many battles over the years. Here, she explains why it’s important not to carry the weight of others, and how she’s accepted trailblazer status
Words WILL LAVIN
It’s been a while since Skin last sat in the same room as the other members of her band, Skunk Anansie. Like the rest of the world, the British rock icons were forced into quarantine in early 2020 because of the COVID-19 pandemic, halting their ability to collaborate in person. “We’re a band that does things in a certain way, and we get most of our best stuff done by being in the same room as each other,” says Skin. The band’s lead singer and primary songwriter, she was required to spend lockdown over at her home in
New York while the others were holed up in the UK.
Now that travel restrictions have eased, the 54-year-old frontwoman, fashion icon and political and social activist – real name Deborah Anne Dyer – is finally back in London, and for the first time in 19 months she’s reunited with her bandmates:
Richard ‘Cass’ Lewis (guitar), Martin ‘Ace’ Kent (bass) and Mark Richardson (drums). Brimming with fresh ideas, Skin is excited to be back in the studio with her boys. “It’s just a bunch of songs right now, but I think we’re working towards an album,” she tells The Red Bulletin at Voltaire Road Recording
Studio in Clapham, south-west London. Skunk Anansie rose to prominence in the mid-’90s during the Britpop explosion that saw bands including Oasis, Blur and Pulp dominate the airwaves. Instead of yielding to the movement’s lighter-sounding indie rock, however, the London foursome opted for a heavier, more politically charged and rebellious sound, which perfectly complimented Skin’s fiercely poetic songs, sung in her unique and androgynous falsetto. Combined with her striking visual image, fearless temperament, and propensity to stand up for the disenfranchised, this separated Skunk Anansie from every other band at the time and made Skin a global female icon, fearlessly kicking down stereotypes in her iconic Dr Martens boots. “Having a Black, female, gay lead singer was completely different than all the other bands,” she says, reflecting on how her presence confronted preconceptions early in her career. “Me being the face of a rock band made a lot of people uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable is a generous description for some of the adversity Skin has had to tolerate during her time in the public eye. Repeatedly finding herself at the receiving end of other people’s
prejudices and insecurities, she’s openly spoken about instances of discrimination over the years, never shying away when it comes to social or political issues. Through her songwriting with Skunk Anansie, she’s confronted racism, abuse, organised religion and capitalist greed on songs such as Selling Jesus, Intellectualise My Blackness, On My Hotel TV and Little Baby Swastikkka. In her autobiography, It Takes Blood and Guts, published in September 2020, Skin recalls experiencing unmitigated racism while being on tour in Australia with the Sex Pistols in 1996, which she says was one of the hardest tours she’s ever had to endure.
“People were sieg-heiling us,” she says of “pockets of fascists” in the crowd throwing the Nazi salute. “They were shouting things like, ‘Get off the stage, you Black bitch!’ And there’d often be little scuffles after people defending us would get involved.” The band – whose bassist, Cass, is also Black – reacted by blasting their antagonists with rage-fuelled performances that were unapologetic and without constraint. “We were as Black and as fierce and as loud as we could be,” Skin remembers. “It drives you to be a bit more vexed, and gives you that energy to be even better on stage.”
This supercharged vitality was also spurred on by an alleged lack of support from the Sex Pistols, including frontman Johnny Rotten, who Skin claims failed to call out the abuse. “He would see them sieg-heiling and do nothing. He wouldn’t acknowledge them, but he wouldn’t not acknowledge them either,” she explains. “I think there’s violence in that kind of silence.” Skin’s eyes suddenly light up. “Ooh, that’s good,” she says of her poetic sentence. “Fucking hell! Write that down,” she shouts over to drummer Richardson, who is sitting at the recording console across the room.
This kind of defiant reaction and rebellious spirit are some of the reasons that Skin has become a legend for so many people, but being the target of people’s prejudices for multiple decades must weigh heavy on even the strongest person. “That’s for them to own,” she says. “I didn’t really take that on my shoulders. When you take on other people’s issues – their racism, their sexism, their homophobia – it’s like they’re giving you this weight to carry.” She pauses, taking a sip of tea while mulling over what she’s going to say next. Putting down her mug, she continues, “I never really played the victim. I think it’s more productive to talk about positivity and success. The few incidents that did happen, and the stuff that made things difficult, actually ended up being reasons why the band was so successful.”
There are many more important issues that Skin does carry on her shoulders, so it’s little surprise she has no space left. After 30 years in the limelight, she’s still using her public voice fearlessly as a social and cultural activist. When not fighting for LGBTQ+ rights – something she’s been doing for decades, dating back to when few artists were out and queer – the pioneering frontwoman can be found campaigning against female genital mutilation in her role as an ambassador for Forward, an African women-led organisation seeking to end violence against women and girls.
Working with charities including The Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture – now known as Freedom From Torture – and Baobab Foundation, which supports Black and ethnic minority communities, Skin has also helped young asylum seekers, using music therapy to integrate them into society. Also, through her social media channels, she tells Black stories and speaks out against racism. “I use social media in the most positive way, and I use it for good,” says Skin. “Whatever you do in life, try to use it for good. You’ll get a lot of goodness back.”
In 2020, she began a new phase in her career, hosting The Skin Show, a weekly radio slot on Absolute Radio, and launching the podcast Skin Tings, in which she interviews her musical heroes, famous friends and new talent. For last October’s Black History Month, she also created the audio docuseries The Blackness of Rock to underline the importance of Black musicians in the foundation of the genre, and also throw the spotlight on those
Youthful Skin: a 17-year-old Deborah Anne Dyer outside her home in Tulse Hill, south London, in 1984
leading its resurgence. Among her guests were Pauline Black of Two-Tone ska revival band The Selecter, who Skin cites as a personal hero; Vernon Reid, the guitarist of US rock band Living Colour; David Bowie’s former bassist Gail Ann Dorsey, and NYU professor Maureen Mahon. “These conversations are pivotal and need to be had,” she says.
As important to rock music as any of those she’s interviewed, however, is Skin herself – a crucial role model whose buoyant attitude and dynamic spirit paved the way for many other artists, such as Nova Twins, Rico Nasty and Little Simz, encouraging them to be themselves and thrive whilst doing it. “I think it’s really important to remain who you are,” says Skin, reflecting on the importance of individuality, especially in today’s overloaded musical landscape where so many artists trend-hop instead of sharing their own unique character. “Pandering to an audience or a rock critic for a bit of success isn’t worth it if you’re having to be someone you’re not. In fact, what is success? When you make music and put it out – to me, that’s success. You’re actually a part of the music industry. When you see your success through the eyes of a rock critic, that can damage your own integrity and authenticity.”
Even the British Monarchy has acknowledged Skin’s status as a genre-defying icon – in June last year, she was awarded an OBE for services to music. Does she accept that she’s one of the most influential figures in British rock history and embrace the trailblazer tag so often bestowed upon her? “In hindsight, as a band we can see our influence and impact” she says. “But when you’re in it and doing it, you don’t know what the hell people are talking about. I think back to how crazy it was to have a Black, female, gay singer who wasn’t all sexy and wearing tiny little outfits; who was quite androgynous, with political music. That was really fucking heavy. And I look at how much we’ve done in terms of being diverse and woke in the ’90s. It’s now cool to be woke and actually into things – everything Black, everything gay and everything trans. I think it’s fucking great. So yes, I can now see we were trailblazers.”
As Skin signals that it’s time for her to get into the vocal booth and record some of the ideas she wrote down on her way to the studio, she shows no signs of slowing down. Alongside working on new music and hosting her radio show and podcast, she’s busy promoting her autobiography and gearing up to head back out on the road with Skunk Anansie for their 25th anniversary tour, which kicks off in Poland in March. With so much going on, does Skin think she’ll ever step away from music full-time? “When do you stop and how do you stop?” she says with a smirk. “But also, why should you stop?” It Takes Blood and Guts is out now; simonandschuster. co.uk. The UK leg of Skunk Anansie’s tour starts at the O2 Academy Brixton in London on March 25; skunkanansie.com
