Make a splash

From YouTube to U2—with GAP ads and a controversial exposé scattered along the way—the guitar heroine is inching her way into mainstream pop, learning a thing or two about going viral in the process. Oh, and she’s got a message for everyone over at The Wall Street Journal: You ain’t seen nothing yet.

By

Nick Haramis

March 11, 2008

By Nick Haramis

It’s overcast, rain threatening to spoil an otherwise mild March morning, as I make my way to meet Marié Digby, one of YouTube’s latest darling sensations. While holding the door open for a young couple exiting nondescript West Village eatery Sweet Life Café, the sky parts for a moment, unleashing a few droplets on an otherwise dry street. The man unearths an umbrella from his satchel, and holds it out for his girlfriend. “You brought an umbrella,” she squeals, before kissing him on the cheek. Walking past, I hear his faint echo as he braves deeper into the drizzle. “Ella, ella, ella… “

In 2007, Rihanna took hold of pop lovers and music critics with her hit single “Umbrella,” a song that won handfuls of awards and topped even more year-end best-of lists. Shortly after its release, Digby, then unknown, sat down with her guitar in her Los Angeles home, and transformed the track into an acoustic ballad. Viral it became. Since then, Digby has built upon her reputation as an online cover artist, interpreting everyone from Linkin Park to Britney Spears. Her success has been formidable. When, in September, The Wall Street Journal ran a cover story on Digby (more on that later), her YouTube account had already soared past 2.3 million viewers. Since then, she’s created her own YouTube channel, which has received over 1.6 million views. A MySpace phenomenon, Digby is not. (That profile weighs in at a paltry 900,000 views by comparison.) Things were looking up for the young singer-songwriter, and it appeared her debut album, which was last seen dangling dangerously close to post-production oblivion, might actually see the light of day.

And then the bottom fell out.

Literally, it was dropped on her doorstep. On September 6th of last year, The Wall Street Journal’s Ethan Smith published a feature meant to expose Digby as a fraud. It was suggested that her homespun, golly-gee gullibility shtick had been created and cultivated by an army of PR executives over at Hollywood Records. During a phone conversation with BlackBook earlier this week, Smith said he stood by his story, explaining, “The piece speaks for itself. No one has ever questioned its legitimacy.” The story, “scathing,” according to Digby, was the result of her first interview ever. Put-on persona or not, she was new to the game.

Despite the tone of the piece—and, in all probability, because of it—Digby’s profile only increased. She’s since been featured in Rolling Stone and Spin, and recently became one of the faces of GAP’s “The Sound of Color” campaign. And like Clay Aiken and Michael Jackson before him, she’s stuck to her wide-eyed naïveté routine, reusing the word “unexpected” in almost every one of her interviews.

I enter the greasy spoon on time, but Digby is already seated—pleasant proof that she’s still a novice—flanked on one side by her New York publicist. She smiles politely, and looking back, I get the impression she was sizing up my abilities as a journalist: was I looking for a “scoop” or was I interested in her favorite color? (“Yellow,” as the GAP commercial would suggest.) I wasn’t sure myself what I was looking for as we chatted about her unapologetic embrace of pop, her learning curve, and her decidedly commercial career forecast. This last topic of conversation, more than anything, seems to be where Smith went wrong. Digby has never made any attempts to be anti-commercial or under the radar. Hers is an ambition that covets mainstream success. For argument’s sake, had Digby and her label not created the online blitzkrieg that catapulted her into stardom—and they stand by the claim that they did not—they should have. It’s genius.

Initially a touch reserved, Digby opens up over her second cup of coffee. (“I’m so sorry for stealing all the milk. I like when my coffee tastes like candy.”) Dressed casually, she exudes a natural beauty, which has no doubt helped position her as the girl with guitar next door. She’s eager to talk about her new album, Unfold, a collection of original, introspective lazy Sunday strumming, but as time soon proved, she was even more eager to set the record straight, so to speak.

BLACKBOOK: The difference between you and traditional cover artists lies in that homespun sensibility. Your songs don’t rely on musical mimicry as much as they do complete acoustic overhauls.

MARIE DIGBY: I try to pick songs that I’m going to make sound different. People now give me requests, like “Hey There Delilah” by the Plain White T’s. But it wouldn’t make sense for me to do that cover because it’s already a vocals and guitar track. For me, it’s more interesting to take a song like Britney Spears’s “Gimme More.” When I’m first listened to it, I was like, Are there even any chords in this song? What am I even listening to? The challenge lies in being able to transform that into a singer-songwriter song with melodies.

BB: Have you ever considered your interpretation an improvement?

MD: It’s never been my intention to make a song better. I just want to make it sound different, and still good, obviously. I don’t want to one-up the original.

BB: When you first started on YouTube, no one was watching or listening, so you had the freedom to perform whatever song you liked. Now that your videos have become so popular—viral, as they say—are you more conscious about how you look, what you sing?

MD: I think about everything a little more, but not too much, because what worked with the videos is that it’s obvious they were sort of spur of the moment. And I think if I put too much thought into what the background looked like, or what I was wearing, or how I was presenting myself, or the choice of song, my performances might lose some of their magic.

BB: YouTube is a strange, scary place.

MD: There are some nutty people in this world, and anyone with access to a computer can chime in with their two cents.

BB: Let’s review some of the more recent user comments left on your Britney video: “I would soooooo tap that ass,” “You should consider ‘American Idol,’” and “Can I have your number, please?” are among my favorites. Are you freaked out yet?

MD: [Laughs.] The nice stuff is great, but I actually get a bigger kick out of those crazy ones. I should start to collect them, copy and paste them in an email, and keep the worst ones. There are so many comments, like, “You’re ugly.” And that’s all they write—nothing about the song. But like I said, YouTube is open to everyone around the world, and if someone wants to click on my video because they want to tap my ass, okay, cool. Open it ten times more. [Ed. Note: To avoid ambiguity, let’s make clear that Digby is referring to her webpage.]

BB: The Internet is such a funny place, such an interesting jump-off into celebrity. When signed to a major label, people are hired to manage your public persona. This isn’t to suggest that you’re a robot or that you’ll do whatever they tell you, but there is guidance. Online, however, you’re on your own.

MD: I think you’ve tapped into something really important. It’s true that major labels are completely in control of everything about you, because you’re a product and they’ve invested a lot of money in you. They kind of have that right. But having YouTube as my outlet into the world has allowed me to be me, in my most natural state. That’s what worked, and the label understands that. So now, they’re like, “Marié, what would you do, what would you wear in this situation?”

BB: Mandy Moore came out with her own version of “Umbrella” around the same time yours was released. You had to have been a little pissed off, no?

MD: For me to take any ownership of that song would be ridiculous. It would be ridiculous for me to be like, “Eww, what is Mandy doing?” Plus, I love Mandy Moore! I think if we knew each other, we’d be best friends. I think we’d love each other.

BB: You dropped out of UC Berkeley to focus on music. Have you since regretted the decision?

MD: No regrets, thank god for that. I studied philosophy for one year, and I think it was necessary for me to realize how badly I needed music in my life. But I definitely want to go back and finish later on in life, when I’m a mom, when I have tons of free time.

BB: Um…

MD: [Laughs.] Okay, so maybe not when I’m a mom. When I was at Berkeley, I was a do-just-enough-to-get-the-grade type, so I think for me to waste away four years doing that would have been sad. I think if I go back later, I’ll study what I want, not what I think would get me the best grade. I didn’t pick philosophy because it was my favorite subject. I picked philosophy because I only had to write two papers each semester.

BB: You totally just cheapened my next question. It seems that the creation of music and the study of philosophy have a lot in common—both are about introspection and observation.

MD: I’m absolutely fascinated by people. I love questioning human nature and people’s choices, so yes, I think they work together. I like broad questions like, “Does fate exist? Does God exist?” But I don’t approach songwriting from that perspective. I might later on, but right now, all my songs are really personal and introspective. I haven’t touched upon world peace or political issues. Not until I’m at U2 status.

BB: Are you more satisfied when performing your own songs as opposed to covers?

MD: Oh, totally. I knew that on YouTube, if I put up my original songs, no one would ever find me.

BB: But people are searching Britney. How brilliant!

MD: Exactly. And if they accidentally find me, they might click on some of my other videos. Being a cover artist is never what I wanted. I just wanted people to listen.

BB: What about karaoke?

MD: I have to be drunk and coerced into doing karaoke. I hate it. You know people are judging you, going, “Oh, you’re a singer, you’ve got to be great.” If I had the choice, I’d never do it, unless I was by myself—then I’d do karaoke all day long.

BB: That’s not karaoke, Marié. That’s just singing on your own. You’ve referred to the Toadies and Elliot Smith as inspirations. Do you find it difficult to negotiate between your less commercial influences, and say, deciding whether or not to become the new face of GAP?

MD: Well, I don’t really think my inspirations come through in my music. I wish I could be indie and write cool stuff, but I’m pop. Even if I tried to write the next Death Cab for Cutie—wait, is it Death Cab Cutie?—song, it would come out as a pop song. I recognize that and understand that about myself, so for me, it makes total sense to do commercial things. I don’t think it would make sense for me to try to be like Elliot Smith, because my life isn’t anywhere near as tragic. If we have anything in common, it’s that we’re being genuine to who we are. I’ve had a fairly nice life and I’m a fairly happy person, and I don’t hide that fact in my music.

BB: How comfortable are you with the glamorous side of pop music?

MD: I don’t like my photograph taken. I try to pretend that I do, but it’s uncomfortable. I’d rather sing songs, but I know it’s part of the deal, so if I’ve got to stand on a red carpet and smile for some cameras in order to get more people to listen to my music, then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t like going to parties, I’m not a club person. I like sitting at home, watching Oprah, and eating cookies and drinking milk. I prefer to do that, but that’s not going to sell any albums.

BB: I think I’d rather smile for a few cameras. Getting up on stage, pouring your heart out to a room of strangers, seems terrifying.

MD: At least it’s cathartic when you’re on stage. You’re getting something back, immediately. If I have a successful show, it means I’ve made a connection with whoever came to see me—10 people, 100 people, thousands of people—and, in my opinion, there’s no satisfaction like that. You’re feeling exactly what the crowd is feeling in that moment. You don’t get that when someone takes your picture.

BB: It’s a tragic time for celebrities and the idea of celebrity in general. Are those close to you nervous that you’ll fall into the red carpet trappings that seem to eat young Hollywood whole?

MD: I’m such a nerd. I really couldn’t pull that stuff off, even if I tried. If I didn’t wear underwear and went to some party, I don’t think photographers would be like, “Oh, let’s get a shot of that.” And as far as those stars are concerned, I just think it all comes down to bad parenting. They never had any kind of guidance. It’s fun to fantasize about, being wildly beautiful and doing whatever I want, nothing bad ever happening to me. They drink and do drugs, and isn’t life amazing? “I’m a moving star!” I think it’s fun to fantasize about, but I could never pull it off.

BB: What has surprised you most about the industry?

MD: My career started out really badly, and its all been uphill since then. I had researched the industry for so long before anything ever happened to me, that I feel as though I’m now prepared. I’ve never felt like, This is unfair, or, I can’t believe they’re treating me like this because I’m a girl. I worked with a man from the age of 15 until I was 20, and it was a really terrible situation, so I saw the worst of the industry before I saw the good. I was a girl, I was young, and I was alone. I didn’t know how to stick up for myself. I was willing to put up with anything because it was all just a means to get to the end—my goal of being a successful musician. I was willing to do anything. It wasn’t until I was 20 years old that I was like, I don’t care if I don’t make it, I can’t do this anymore. And now, I’ve become pretty good at seeing through bad guys.

BB: This wasn’t always the case, though. I’m interested in your cover story in The Wall Street Journal. It seemed as if their “exposing” you as a YouTube fraud was less about you, and more about the corporatization of one of the world’s most democratic websites.

MD: They really wanted to do a piece on how major corporations are duping regular people into thinking they’re discovering someone or something when, in actual fact, they’ve got all kinds of money and manpower behind them. That was their angle. But their mistake was using me as an example, because my situation couldn’t be any more different. I did have a huge company that could potentially be putting lots of money behind me and coming up with these amazing marketing plans to make me the next YouTube star—which, by the way, isn’t even possible, not even if you’re McDonald’s or Coke—but that wasn’t happening. I did take the piece personally. I took it very personally because I didn’t have the support of my amazing, glitzy, wonderful record deal. I was holding on to it by its last string and doing whatever I could to make sure this album, that I had already finished a long time ago, would see the light of day. That album was in the can a long before the YouTube videos. Those videos were honestly a last-resort attempt to prove I deserved a shot.

BB: Was this the story you had expected to read?

MD: Absolutely not. This was the first time I had ever talked to a journalist. We were so excited—“Oh my gosh, The Wall Street Journal”—that no one thought, Why? Why does a business journal want to do a piece on a fledging musician? Except for my dad, that is. He’s a lawyer and was like, “This isn’t right, we shouldn’t be doing this.” But, yeah, I totally spilled my guts out for hours to this journalist, hoping I would get a little tiny blurb in the back. We don’t have a subscription to the Journal, so my neighbor left it on the front door that day, with a Post-it on the cover that read, “Congratulations.” When I looked at it and saw my face on the front—I looked like a serial killer, like that was my mug shot—I almost had a heart attack.

BB: Have you since learned your lesson?

MD: I don’t know that I’m much more reserved, but I pick and choose the people I’m going to be candid with. If CNN wants to do a piece on Internet sensations, I’m going to be a little bit more careful. You just have to be smart about who you’re talking to.

Photography by Lauren Dukoff