Polly Paulusma has long been celebrated for her raw honesty, rich storytelling, and the heartfelt intimacy of her music. From the early days busking her way through London’s open mics to touring alongside legends like Bob Dylan and Marianne Faithfull, Polly’s journey has been one of resilience, reinvention, and an unwavering love for her craft. In this conversation, Polly opens up about her evolution as a songwriter and musician, the challenges of balancing creativity with motherhood, and the deep emotional currents that shape her upcoming album. With wisdom gained through decades in the industry, she shares her thoughts on making art, building community, and why — even after all this time — it’s still all about the joy of the music.
Can you share a bit about your personal journey in the music industry? How did you first get started, and what led you to where you are now with your upcoming album?
I was always writing songs. I wrote my first song at about age 10. I was in bands all through my teens, and I joined a 10-piece soul-funk covers band as a singer while I was studying English at Cambridge University. But I always kept singing and songwriting filed away in the “hobby” section of my brain. In my mid-twenties, after several abortive attempts at other careers (journalism, novel-writing), I was invited by a signed band I knew to sing backing vocals on their album. It was a Damascene moment for me — I realized what I needed to do, what I already was.
I spent three years lugging my guitar up and down the escalators of the London Tube system, playing open mics all over town, two or three a week, building and developing my songwriting, learning how to record myself, learning how to play live — learning my chops. After being spotted, I was signed in 2003 to One Little Independent, and my debut album, Scissors In My Pocket, was released in 2004. Shed-recorded and self-produced, it catapulted me on a path around the world supporting Bob Dylan, Coldplay, Jamie Cullum, The Divine Comedy, Marianne Faithfull, and a host of other wonderful experiences. I was very, very lucky.
After my second record, I took a break to have my two children. When they were 3 and 1, I found myself with a new bag of songs. I founded a small record label of my own called Wild Sound and set about releasing my third album independently. I accidentally signed nine other artists along the way. As my children got older, I decided to do a PhD, and then an encounter with another singer-songwriter I admire greatly, Kathryn Williams, pulled me back into music once again. I brought my label to One Little Independent as a folk imprint and set about making more albums. My fourth and fifth records came out in 2020 and 2022, and I am now putting the finishing touches on my sixth, working with producer Ethan Johns — which has been a dream.
What are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced throughout your career as a musician and songwriter, particularly as a woman in the industry?
Money is always an issue. I think the erratic way one makes money as a recording artist — if you make any money at all — is hard, but especially hard if you are a primary carer of children. I was warned — a female publishing boss suggested I consider not having children at all, which seemed like an astounding overreach at the time.
In our family, when we were having children, my male partner’s earning potential was higher than mine, so it fell to me to be the primary child carer. I got very sick trying to be everything to everyone — I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2016 and struggled to keep myself together. With the correct support and treatment, I was able to reestablish my equilibrium. I feel now that my bipolarity is in some ways a superpower as much as a disability. I am aware of my tendency to push way too hard, and a career in music encourages that too.
Streaming has robbed small-scale artists of development income, which becomes even more fundamental during the years of having small children. My first album came out in 2004, just before the streaming revolution, and I witnessed the last moments of people actually buying CDs as a way to hear music. By my second album in 2007, the landscape had changed. Without that income, buying yourself the creative time to think, make, breathe, and noodle about is often out of the question. So yes, money is one of the biggest issues.
As a woman in the industry, I can say I have never encountered any sexual predators, nor have I ever been aware of any discrimination. I remember one night trying to explain to a friend why this might be so, why I had avoided some of the abuse so prevalent in the industry. I said, maybe I wasn’t pretty enough, or maybe my Cambridge education intimidated people. But I corrected myself pretty rapidly when I realized I was falling into the trap of suggesting the responsibility for abusive behavior could lie with the victim. It is no one’s fault for being “too pretty” or “not argumentative enough.” I have simply not encountered a criminal to my knowledge, which is why it didn’t happen. All the people I’ve worked with have been, and continue to be, extraordinary, respectful, creative humans who just want to make beautiful stuff. In that sense, our genders are irrelevant.
Your upcoming album seems to delve into themes of love, pain, and what truly matters. Can you elaborate on how your personal experiences and observations have influenced the creation of this album?
This album was written in a whirlwind, the songs flowing out in a very short and intense space of time. In its scope, it takes in many different kinds of love: love from beyond the grave, love for lost babies, love of a divine entity. Then there’s a particular section that tackles a very difficult emotional period of furious, burning romantic love which cannot be fulfilled — love which goes on entirely in the head — the longing and grief of that kind of relationship which must remain unspoken. The album falls back to emerge in the final song celebrating the kind of long-lasting, nourishing love that is real, that glows like embers — love that is true. It’s been a rollercoaster. I haven’t announced the title yet, but depending on when you publish this, I might be able to tell you…
Working with Ethan Johns is a significant collaboration. What was it like working with him, and how did his involvement shape the direction of your album?
I cannot tell you how wonderful it’s been to work with Ethan. I gave him all the demos of the songs in a jumble, and he ordered them, seeing the story in them which I was too close to perceive. From the very beginning, he understood that the spoken word passages that introduce each song are a fundamental aspect of this musico-literary project, and he had strong ideas about how we would record them out on location in holy places.
His ethos of recording the songs with all of us musicians — Ethan on drums, me on guitar and vocal, Jon Thorne on double bass, and Neil Cowley on piano and other keys — live in the same room has created an incredibly delicate, raw, powerful, vintage sound. It was terrifying playing and singing at the same time. I had been used to separating the layers out, recording each part one at a time, but his belief that all the performances are responsive and linked together meant I had to be brave and just trust in the songs and in his experience. The results are extraordinary, beautiful. I have loved every second of working with him.
As a woman who has been working in the music industry for several decades, what changes would you like to see in the industry to better support and celebrate women’s creative contributions?
More support for women artists to learn sound engineering. More support for artists during pregnancy and postnatal periods. More support at live venues for childcare provision and areas for breastfeeding. More financial support for young artists who are primary carers to help pay for childcare in order to write. More women booked for gigs and festivals — more visibility.
How do you balance your creative work with other aspects of your life? Do you have any strategies for maintaining inspiration and productivity?
I teach two days a week, mostly songwriting, with a bit of poetry and literature thrown in. I love teaching songwriting; it helps me unravel knotty problems of my own practice when I have to find a way to explain them to someone else. I teach on the Songwriting Masters programme at ICMP (Institute of Contemporary Music Performance) in London, at Cambridge University, and at ICE (Institute of Continuing Education) here in Cambridge, where I live.
The rest of the time I’m making music — writing, producing, recording, touring. I’d say the most important strategy for me is morning pages, the tool advocated by Julia Cameron in her life-changing book The Artist’s Way. This is three pages of free writing every day. It just shifts your consciousness. Almost all of my songs emerge from this daily ritual.
What advice would you give to aspiring female musicians and songwriters who are navigating their way through the challenges of the industry?
HAVE FUN!! Never lose sight of the joy of the music itself. Find champions. Listen to lots of music, read lots of books, look at lots of art — get inspiration from anywhere. Copy, adapt, invent. Work on your craft. Identify what it is that makes you special. Surround yourself with people you respect, and who respect you. Don’t take any shit. Keep moving. Don’t wait for people to do it for you. Know when to keep it, and when to give it away. Be generous. Collaborate. Don’t be scared to try something new. Rest when you need to. Don’t quit.
Can you share any insights or lessons you’ve learned along your journey that have been particularly impactful or meaningful to you?
I used to think that hammering a problem until it cracks was the way to solve it. I’ve learned that sometimes, if you look the other way — even walk in the other direction for a bit — and then come back, it’s opened itself up.
How do you approach the process of songwriting, and has your approach evolved over the years?
Morning pages. Constant morning pages. Sometimes the songs fall out; sometimes they take years. The songs decide how they want to come into the world. I just facilitate them. I think of them as birds that fly in my window. I just wait and put out seed.
Lastly, what can fans expect from your upcoming album, both musically and thematically, and what message do you hope to convey through your music?
From the very first record, my songs have always contained influences from jazz, folk, and indie folk, but this time the jazz flavour is turned up loud. I’ve been told it’s in line with Carly Simon or Rickie Lee Jones — vintage openness, huge songs. It really is a journey, a total immersion. I’ll ask my fans to block out some time and follow the journey as it unfolds for a proper experience. I couldn’t be prouder of this work and I can’t wait to share it with you.
