On a grey April day in south London, a pop star is being reborn. Housed in what looks like a big perspex container, sandwiched between the river on one side and a Lego block of new build flats on the other, Jade ‘formerly of Little Mix’ Thirlwall is shooting the video for her swaggering, gloriously OTT debut solo single, ‘Angel of My Dreams.’ Directed by Aube Perrie (Harry Styles’ ‘Music for a Sushi Restaurant,’ Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘Thot Shit’), and inspired by The Fifth Element, Showgirls and Black Swan, it’s as ambitious and conceptual as the song itself.
Squeezed into a corridor with Jade’s coterie of gays (stylists, social media videographers, HMU artists), I watch her dance in a different room via a small monitor. It feels both oddly exciting and deeply boring. But then the star herself arrives, sporting a fake lip ring, a la Posh Spice circa ‘Out of Your Mind’, and a pair of angel wings, and the atmosphere shifts. We talk briefly about the first time we met for a BEAT interview, back when Little Mix were just starting out on their journey in 2012, a year after winning The X Factor. “We got in so much trouble for that interview,” she laughs, referencing a moment where the band were asked what love smells like and Jesy said “cock”. Jade – the band’s self-proclaimed nerd and deepest thinker – had her own thoughts, likening it to Lynx deodorant. Needless to say, their then-label Syco were not happy.
A few weeks after the shoot, we meet again in a coffee shop to discuss the creation of her debut single, Diana Ross’s impact and her updated thoughts on love’s aroma.
You’re the last Little Mix to go solo – how does it feel?
I’m happy to be taking that spot. I definitely wanted the most time to work on my music, and who I’m going to be. I didn’t sit and go, “I’m going to be last!”; it just happened. It’s been exciting watching the rollout of everyone else [from the band]. And realising from their music that we’re all very different.
But there wasn’t a WhatsApp group being like, “I’m doing indie,” “I’m doing pop,” and so on?
No. When we first started doing our own stuff there was this unspoken rule of just letting each other get on with it. We’d been joined at the hip for so long, literally every day with each other. So we all knew without saying it that we had to learn how to survive on our own.
Was that weird at first?
Oh my god, yeah. After the last show, I went home, woke up the next day, looked at my phone, and the diary had nothing in it. I thought, “Fuck!” My life had been mapped out for 11 years. Out of all the girls, I was the one that was going down with the ship, like, “Just one more song!” I was obsessed with the band. I really do think I was Little Mix’s biggest fan, so the thought of letting that go was really hard.
Had you started looking for a label towards the end of Little Mix?
No. I had already written a bunch of stuff with the usuals, like MNEK and Biff [Stannard], pop royalty. Then I took that music to different labels and realised that everyone kind of does the same thing, so I was like, “I might as well stay with [Little Mix’s final label] RCA!” Even that was strange to do because we’d come off The X Factor and you don’t get a choice about who to sign with. It’s all, “Here’s the label, here’s the management, here’s your accountant.” Even with our music, every decision made [in the band] was a decision made together. I didn’t know how to decide on something for myself. I’d never had that thing of, “If you mess up, it’s just on you.” The first few months were about building up confidence, so that by the time I went to the US to start chatting to labels, it was like, “OK, now I know what I want.” I’m really proud of myself for that whole stage in my career, because I was going into these rooms and saying, “This is my music, this is who I am, do you want some?” [Laughs] I didn’t want to go to a label and say, “Can you help me figure out who I am?”
Are you able to summon confidence quite easily?
I am quite an introverted person. But I knew for my solo stuff: “Girl, you’re going to have to start believing in yourself a bit more.” For the first year in sessions, it was very much me going in front of the mirror and saying, “You’re a fucking superstar, you can do this!” Having to shout at myself to be like, “Bitch, get in there and show them that you’re the next big thing.” You do rely on the safety [net] of a girl group. When it’s for you, it’s a totally different ball game. Especially in LA; they sniff out insecurity.
You made a reference playlist – who was on it?
It’s evolved since then, but there was a bit of Madonna, Britney, Kylie, Janet and Diana Ross. In my mind, I wanted to be a culmination of all of those people, because that’s what I grew up listening to. I knew I wanted to be the pop girlie. I’m obsessed with pop, I always will be, so it was how do I become the next pop girlie that stands out and has something different. Sometimes [in the studio] I was feeling cunty, other days I wanted to do a house-y banger, then another it was like “Let’s get into Janet’s ‘Feedback’ world.”
The songs I heard are all over the place. In a good way.
That was intentional. I’m very much a kitchen sink girl – I throw it all in. I want it all. When I look at a pop girl as a fan, I want the looks, the concepts, the big show, the glam. Everything. Then as I was finding myself, I thought it would be pretty cool if the album did sound like an experiment of finding what my sound is. It’s real.
Do you think that big, ludicrous pop sound is missing at the moment?
I think so. Times are a bit fucking bleak at the minute and pop’s always been the best release of negativity for me. It’s a saviour, in a way. You can’t deny pop’s presence and magic, and I’ve always been obsessed with the pop princesses. My perfect Saturday night is sitting at home with all my friends watching every music video on YouTube. Jordan [Stephens, actor, musician and Jade’s boyfriend] will be playing Call of Duty and he’ll come down and be like, “Fuck me, you’re watching Rachel Stevens again.”
Which video?
‘Some Girls.’
A song about blow jobs.
I’ve got a similar one, actually. Well it’s more about the other way round, I suppose. I wrote it with Tove Lo. She loves an oral sex banger!
She does. I love her. It was exciting to get into the room with people and surprise them, and subvert their expectations. When I got in with Tove, she was like, “What’s the vibe?” And I said, “Whatever you think it is, I want you to forget that — we can push it as far as we can.” She played me a song and it was basically about anal sex. I was like, “I’m in! Let’s do it.” I love when a song sounds innocent and sweet, but then you really hear it and it’s filth. I don’t know if this one will ever see the light of day, mind you. But I am a very honest person. The main concepts of the album are my experiences in the industry, falling in love with Jordan and finding myself again.
Had you lost yourself?
To be fair, I do think I knew what my role was within the band from the start.
What was that?
Originally, I was the cutesy little Geordie girl. Very innocent. I’ve always been a bit of a nerd. I’d also come from a musical background; I’d done the rounds of pubs and clubs. I’d been heckled at working men’s clubs from 16 or 17, with my mum in the background ready to pounce. By the time I was put in the band, I was the most experienced member. My media studies exam was about The X Factor. I had literally dissected that show the year before I auditioned. It was meant to be, I suppose.
I noticed you more outside of the band when you were being very vocal and political on Twitter, at a time when that wasn’t done by a member of a pop act. Was that a natural instinct to want to call stuff out?
If I don’t think something’s right, I’ll pipe up about it regardless of the consequences. But not to just cause a ruckus. Early on, I remember doing a tweet about the bombing in Syria and our government, and obviously every male MP under the sun was like, “Get back in your pop box.” But then I realised they were pissed off with me because I have a lot of influence over young people. That spurred me on to want to educate myself. Within the band, I was always the one the girls would turn to if an awkward question was asked. I’m such a jobsworth. I lapped it up.
You were also supporting the gays before it was fashionable.
Oh my god, thank you.
It felt natural and genuine.
Even if I go right back to my roots, I was watching drag queens in Benidorm as a kid and that was probably my first flavour of seeing a performance. My first obsession was Diana Ross, because my mum looked just like her and I genuinely thought she was her until I was 10. She’d go to bingo and be like, “I’m off to do another show, Jade,” and I’d be like, “My mum’s Diana Ross!” From the off I loved the glitz and the glam, and all the feather boas and sequins. I was drawn to campness. Growing up in a musical theatre background, I was surrounded by a lot of LGBTQ people. Then when I moved to London my gay friends took me under their wing. That’s where I found myself. Drag culture helped me realise you can have this alter ego as a performer, which genuinely transformed my confidence. Five years in [to Little Mix], our gay audience grew and I thought, “Well, I can’t keep skipping the queue at Heaven and saying that’s my allyship, so I best learn more.”
That’s not what a lot of straight pop stars, or people, really bother to do.
No. I got in touch with Stonewall in my early twenties and asked for a meeting, so they could help educate me on the history and what it means to be an ally. I’m still working with Stonewall now. I didn’t want to come across as someone doing performative or opportunistic allyship. If anyone thought that of me I’d feel so disappointed.
I got Covid for the first time watching Diana Ross at the O2.
And that’s gay rights.
Have you ever met her?
Yes! I flew me and my mum to Vegas to watch her show and we met her backstage. Now I know how fans feel, because I did that thing where I just started talking and I couldn’t get the phone to work for the picture. She was so lovely, though. She gave me a sleeping tablet because I said I was jet-lagged, like, “Here you are my darling.” She’s heavily referenced on the album.
What else?
Clubland Classix, so people like Cascada, and hyperpop I suppose. I grew up on Motown, then in my early teens, growing up in a working class town in the north-east, it was Scooter, Basshunter, Cascada, DJ Sammy. I loved Eurotrash dance. I’d be going into these rooms in LA and playing them Scooter. I was working out how to put it all together, which is how ‘Angel of My Dreams’ was born. I wanted it to feel like a relentless, huge, fat pop punch in your face.
What inspired it?
I was in LA and I was feeling a bit lonely anyways, and then someone called to say that the head of my label, the man who signed me, was leaving. I spiralled hard. I went to the studio thinking about how fickle the music industry is, and thinking about how much I love this job but also how much I hate it, too. I explained the concept to [producer] Mike Sabath, where it’s this kind of love-hate with the industry but making it sound like it’s a relationship. Originally, it was supposed to sound more like a loving relationship that was toxic, but then I thought, “No, let’s let them have it; let’s tell them what it’s about in the verses.”
The Sun newspaper has already run a few stories about the lyrics, specifically “sold my soul to a psycho [Syco]”
It’s not specifically about that. But I wanted the song to be my journey, from entering the music business to now, and what that’s felt like. That’s why the song feels so chaotic. The opening is like the music to that montage bit on The X Factor after you’ve won and you’re just catapulted into the industry.
It’s a fine line, isn’t it? No one necessarily wants to hear a famous person say how awful it is to be rich and famous.
I don’t want to sit here and bash the last 13 years of my life. I’m very happy and content. But like with any job, there are highs and lows. That’s just life, and it’s my reality, but it’s about writing it in a way that’s not woe is me.
From the bits I saw, the video looks wild.
There’s 11 looks, bab! The concept is sort of rags to riches, and it was emotional actually, because for one bit I’m busking and walking past a Sainsbury’s Local. When I was 16, I would stand outside my local Sainsbury’s and sing Christmas songs.
Does it make you feel proud of what you’ve achieved?
Oh yeah. I’ve surpassed my expectations of what I thought I was capable of. Every time I’ve been shitting my pants, or feeling anxious, I’ve been able to push through and be like, “No, girl, you deserve this.”
And finally, what does love smell like?
Oh my god. Do you know what, I’ve upgraded a bit now. So we’ve gone from Lynx to maybe a Jo Malone scent... Actually, love smells like wet dogs.
Styling by Karen Clarkson
Make up by Andrew Gallimore
Hair by Issac Poleon
Manicure by Chiara Ballisai