Finding her own space

Kate Nash's Web hit made her a star. But can she keep her independence?

"If you're a media darling, conforming makes life easier," says 20-year-old British singer Kate Nash. "But I don't believe in doing that." (Marco Prosch/getty images Europe)

At the tender age of 20, two years out from a job serving fast food and still holed up in her childhood bedroom, Kate Nash is starring in the latest installment of the MySpace overnight-sensation series. Nash's tale, like the others, is a variation on a theme: a young unknown records some songs, posts them on the Web, becomes an Internet darling, scores a major-label record deal, and gets famous real fast - back home in Britain.

As Ron Fair, chairman of Nash's US label, Geffen Records, puts it: "In England what Kate wears and what she says and who she is has kicked in, in a very strong way. Here she's just a girl with a song."

The song is "Foundations," a snappy sketch of a crumbling relationship painted in vivid North London vernacular. It entered the British charts at No. 2 last June, and Nash spent the summer playing to massive festival crowds. "Made of Bricks" - a charming, stylistic sprawl of an album that recklessly runs the gamut between trip-hop and power-pop - followed in August, debuting in the United Kingdom at No. 1.

Fair and company are hoping that the single brings Nash the sort of widespread popularity stateside that has eluded a long line of British pop stars from Lulu to Lily Allen. But strong accents and saucy slang have conspired to keep greater talents from connecting with American listeners. If the cultural divide doesn't bring her down, and with the help of a good editor, Nash could grow into the strong, fresh female voice that's sorely missing from mainstream pop. Not that she cares or will cop to it.

"There are people who's job it is to care about that," says Nash, who plays a sold-out show at the Paradise Rock Club tomorrow. "I'm just hoping I'll have enough pictures to remember what happened."

Nash is as outspoken in conversation as she is in her songs - minus the expletives, which are generally directed at anonymous boyfriends who have done her wrong. Nash evidently made several poor choices before hooking up with her current beau, Cribs guitarist Ryan Jarman. But at least she got some cutting tunes out of it.

"Pumpkin Soup" is a blowsy, horn-and-sample-stoked paean to loveless sex. On "Foundations," over bright piano figures and synthetic beats, Nash slices to the banal core of a disintegrating romance: "I'll use that voice that you find annoying/ And say something like, 'Yeah, intelligent input, darling/ Why don't you have another beer then?" Most of the others have unprintable titles. And Nash has no intention of toning it down for mass consumption.

"There is pressure to do that," she says. "If you're a media darling, conforming makes life easier. But I don't believe in doing that. I don't think I'm particularly mouthy or rude. I'm just speaking my mind. I've got manners, I've got respect for human beings. I've always been opinionated and loud, and I like lots of debate."

Meanwhile, the details of The Kate Nash Story, which may or may not be interesting, and may or may not be accurate, have emerged, sound-bite-ready, to form a portrait of the artist as a hapless phenom. In 2006, the then-aspiring actress was denied admittance to a prestigious acting school. The same day her rejection letter arrived, Nash - who lives in the London suburb of Harrow, which is working-class (according to her press kit) or affluent (if you consult a guidebook) - fell down a flight of stairs and broke her foot. Her parents bought her a guitar to pass the time during her convalescence. She started writing songs. Allen, who like Nash attended London's BRIT School for performing arts (as did Amy Winehouse and newcomer Adele) and whose career was then exploding in England, linked to Nash's tunes on her MySpace page.

The rest is history, brief and embellished, in the current fashion. Without an actual musical resume, today's sudden stars must be equipped with a quirky back story. Nash is having none of it. She may be inexperienced, but she's brave enough to dispute her own mythology, which has been splashed across the pages of reputable US publications since "Made of Bricks" was released stateside in January.

"Sometimes it's written that I didn't know what music was until my accident, or that I didn't play gigs until Lily did what she did," says Nash. "I'm grateful to her, but I don't think she shaped my life. I've studied music since I was 6. My mom's a nurse, my dad works with computers, I have two sisters, two dogs, political opinions, and a life. That's what's shaped the person I am."

In recent months Nash has been popping up on stages around the globe with a new (and some would argue unlikely) collaborator, folk-punk troubadour Billy Bragg, performing a clever medley of her "Foundations" and his "A New England." They plan to record and release a cover of the Shangri-Las' "Give Him a Great Big Kiss."

"He likes her lyrics," says Fair, "the sarcasm and the humor. Her songs deal with everyday stuff in an honest way, so to me it makes a lot of sense. The way Kate speaks to young girls - it's not about being hot."

Nash's alliance with female contemporaries is a big part of both her drive and her appeal. She's neither rail-thin nor fashion-conscious nor most any of the other things that typically secure young performers a place in the pop culture. "This is my face/ Covered in freckles/ With the occasional spot and some veins," she sings to herself in "Mouthwash," consoling at the outset and then ramping up the song into a full-bore power-pop anthem: "And this is my brain/ And even if you try to hold me back/ There's nothing that you can gain."

Nash isn't alone in her effort to buck the status quo. She's often referred to as the next Lily Allen, a similarly forthright, MySpace-anointed iconoclast who defies stereotypes of beauty and behavior.

"I don't want to lose weight and wear designer clothes," she says. "It's not about coming and breaking in America; it's about writing and recording songs."

Only time will tell if the demands of the marketplace will wear down her resolve. Right now Nash is zealous about representing for real girls.

"Going out on stage is the best thing, because they see me and feel better about themselves, and I see them and I feel better about myself," she says. "It's like we save each other in a way."

Joan Anderman can be reached at anderman@globe.com.