"Marianne Faithfull: Marianne Never Does What A Pop Star Should"
by Keith Altham, New Musical Express, 9 April 1965

SHE HAS a pert, child-like face which darts out at you from a cascade of fine, fair hair. The face seems to be concentrated into the blonde fringe and the expressive, blue-grey eyes beneath. Around the bridge of her nose is the merest suspicion of freckles to come this summer.

When she is pleased, her whole face dimples into an uninhibited smile, and she plays at being sex-kitten and society hostess in turn. Marianne Faithfull is a very interesting girl.

"I'm a journalist's nightmare," she said. "I never do anything a pop star is supposed to do. I don't own a mink coat, or ride around in an E-type Jag. There's a man who keeps ringing up to sell me a horse. I think he fancies me. I'd love a horse, but..."

We were lunching at a quite exclusive London club, and my first face-to-face with Miss Faithfull was proving an education.

"Sausage and mash," requested Marianne, after perusing the ample menu. She smiled sweetly. A slightly sickly smile spread over the waiter's face.

"We can, of course, do you some," he said, with just the right amount of injured pride. For one desperate minute, I thought Marianne was going to verbally barbecue him, then she countered graciously by changing her order to lamb cutlets.

Wine was ordered, and Marianne had "iced water." She recalled the story of a hotel in Switzerland that she knows where the waiters have little sacks of dust to blow over the bottles before bringing them to the table. Coupled with "Straight from the cellars, sir," it is, apparently, highly effective.

Much of Marianne's fortune rests in that lovely young face. Like Cathy McGowan, Sandle Shaw and Jane Asher, she typifies the "ideal teenager," and finds herself modeling fashion for women's magazines.

"I have been mistaken for Jane Asher," admitted Marianne. "Because my fiancé, John, was a friend of Peter's, I got to know them quite well. There used to be lovely scenes round at the Ashers with Paul McCartney, Peter and Gordon sitting in chairs with aprons tied around their necks while Jane got to work on their hair!"

Marianne had recently operated on John's hair – somewhat to his annoyance, I gathered.

"He keeps letting it grow longer and longer," smiled Marianne. "He looks at it in the mirror and says, 'Yes, it's getting better now,' and I'm dying to get my scissors to it."

Only just returned from a short tour in Scotland, Marianne was pleased to find she was working with her old friends the Hollies. She claims that the group are the most professional on the scene, and that Allan Clarke is the finest mover on stage.

"I did some cabaret at an R.A.F. camp," said Marianne, "I had to follow Alma Cogan, who is terribly sophisticated and was wearing a low-cut dress with great assurance. I thought, "Oh, no, I can't do it." Then I tottered on in my dress buttoned up to the neck, and said I was going to sing my next record. I was terrified."

'Bad mistake'

We talked about that "bad mistake" – 'Blowing In The Wind'.

"What made you record it?" I asked.

"Andrew Oldham," she replied, simply. "It's funny, how that when I don't work for Andrew I really dig him.

"I recorded a number called 'Strange World' for the follow up to my first disc, and then Andrew wanted me to try 'Blowing In the Wind'. Both discs were presented to Decca, and they made the wrong choice, in my opinion."

Marianne is very much looking forward to the release of her folk L.P. and told me the story of her return to the folk club in Reading where she used to play.

"They really hated me," she said. "They said I had done a great disservice to folk music. I had committed the unforgivable sin of becoming a success.

"There is this very silly attitude in this country that once someone gets into the Top Twenty they are no longer any good. Take the Yardbirds, for example. I think they are great, but soon you'll get the people who will turn around and say that they knew them before they went commercial. The Beatles and the Stone and all the others are just as good now as when they were unknown."

We talked about Ready, Steady, Go! and Marianne mourned its move to Wembley.

"It used to be a social rallying point where you could go down and meet old friends. It was an Ad Lib club with lights. I'm sorry it has moved."

We talked about horses. Marianne is a keen rider and took lessons at the Roehampton Stables.

"I ride quite well, but not expertly. My posture leaves something to be desired. I don't want to be instructed."

As we left the restaurant, Marianne donned a pair of round-lensed sun glasses and scampered across the road to peer along the rows of shelves outside a second-hand book shop.

I caught up with her, and she clutched my arm, looking like a somewhat bemused mole entering the sunlight.

"I must buy you a book," she shrilled. Delighted with idea, she scuttled off into the shop, and returned with a little yellow volume entitled: Big Ben, a light opera in two acts, by A. P. Herbert."

Marianne Faithfull is a very interesting girl.
------------
link to article