Admiration Society shows two creative people in two different fields in one wide-ranging conversation.
The television actress and writer Natasha Rothwell grew up as an itinerant Air Force kid and started her career in improvisational comedy at places like New York’s Upright Citizens Brigade; she credits both experiences with nurturing her resilience and curiosity. After writing for “Saturday Night Live” in 2014 and then appearing in the 2016 Netflix series “The Characters,” she was hired to write on “Insecure” (2016-21), Issa Rae’s breakthrough Black rom-com HBO series. Rothwell, 43, became better known, however, for portraying Kelli, the show’s frank, sexually free sidekick. She then went on to play Belinda, a disillusioned masseuse at a Hawaiian resort, on the first season of Mike White’s “The White Lotus” in 2021. She’ll reappear on that show’s third season, which airs on Max early next year. And she just finished her showrunning debut as the creator and star of “How to Die Alone,” a New York-set comedy-drama series that premiered on Hulu earlier this month. She plays Mel, a single airport employee whose near-death experience shocks her into living a deeper life.
Rothwell is also a jazz obsessive who’s put in many hours of karaoke. One of her favorite artists is Samara Joy, who at the age of 24 has already won three Grammys: Best New Artist and Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2023, followed by Best Jazz Performance this year. Descended from two generations of gospel singer royalty (her grandparents co-founded the Savettes; her vocalist-bassist father toured with Andraé Crouch), Joy excels at rebooting jazz standards with tight new arrangements and dreamy, conversational lyrics. In 2020, while still a student at the State University of New York’s Purchase College, she performed Duke Ellington’s “Take Love Easy,” inspired by Ella Fitzgerald’s 1974 version, in a video posted to Facebook that became a pandemic-era viral hit. She has since released two albums, both influenced by her love of contemporary romance narratives.
Joy has been touring almost nonstop for the past three years but, by early summer, when she spoke with Rothwell for the first time one evening, she had completed her third album, “Portrait,” which comes out in October. Their conversation took place over video — Joy at her parents’ home in the Bronx and Rothwell calling in from Thailand, where she’d just filmed White’s show. “Both of us are closing some chapters,” said Rothwell — and each was eager to cheer the other on. By the end of a 90-minute conversation, they’d already made plans to meet soon in person.
Natasha Rothwell: When I was watching the Grammys [earlier this year], you would’ve thought I’d caught the spirit in my hotel. I was screaming for you, girl. You so deserved [it]. Where are you in New York?
Samara Joy: I’m in the Bronx right now, where I grew up. But I’m moving to Harlem.
N.R.: I used to live in New York. I’m in L.A. now, but I set everything I write and produce in New York because I’m trying to get a studio to pay me to come back.
S.J.: We need you here. I was born in the Bronx, but I was pretty sheltered. We were allowed to go into [Manhattan] to see musical theater. I didn’t actually step into a jazz club until I got to college.
N.R.: I moved around a lot, but it wasn’t until I got to New York that I exhaled. It was one of the best places to be single and “alone,” because you weren’t alone. The city would take me out on dates. It really was a love affair. It’s a long-distance relationship now.
T: How’d you discover each other?
S.J.: Kelli was my introduction. I thought, “Wow, this character’s effortlessly funny; this can’t be an act.” And when I started watching “The White Lotus,” I realized how much depth and range you have.
N.R.: Well, I love jazz, and Spotify’s good about suggesting new artists. I was just minding my Black business around my house one day, and your voice came on: It sounded like someone from the past. I went over to my phone, and I saw you, and I was shook. “How is this old-ass, deep-lived voice coming out of this young face?”
T: Will you use Samara’s music on the soundtrack of “How to Die Alone,” Natasha?
N.R.: Absolutely. If we get a season two — knock on wood — I already know which scene. The show explores the difference between being alone and lonely; it’s about your relationship with yourself. So much of my journey in New York was walking [while] listening to these big jazz voices. Your music paints that scenery of solitude, but there’s no bitterness to it.
S.J.: I can’t wait to see the show. I’m going to be at the premiere!
N.R.: It’s one of the most vulnerable pieces I’ve done. I’ve always acted and written, but this is the first time I did that for me. I had to show up for this project and really put myself on the page.
S.J.: I watched your interview with Jemele Hill, [in which you spoke about] being in that space where you just have to write and write and write. And I can relate [with my experience of] touring: After I graduated in 2021, I was traveling year-round. I had the opportunity to try out material in front of so many different people. Often I put pressure on myself to [only] present something perfect, but the very nature of [jazz] music is to improvise.
N.R.: It sounds hyperbolic, but I feel like improv saved my life. You have to trust your instincts; you have to abandon the need for perfection. Maybe that’s why I love jazz so much — because it’s inherently nonprescriptive. It took a long time to allow that spirit of whimsy into my work because I’m very Type A: I want it to be right.
S.J.: That’s something I’ve had to learn when it comes to writing my own lyrics. But it doesn’t get better unless you try it in action. There was this thing that Ed Sheeran [the British pop star said in an interview]: Songwriting is like a dirty faucet, where the first lyrics you write aren’t going to be great. But the more you run the water, the clearer it gets.
N.R.: That’s real. I’ve been working on this show for seven, eight years. And of course I think, “Oh, I should’ve said that,” or, “I should’ve trimmed that scene.” But I need to just let the faucet run. I’m so grateful that I let this dirty water out in the world because other people are seeing it —
S.J.: That’s Evian! That’s Evian!
T: Samara, what new things are you trying on this upcoming album?
S.J.: More mature themes like the loss of a mentor, being overwhelmed by life, having to press forward. What I hope to present in person [at my concerts] is a full emotional roller coaster, and invite people to see who I am but maybe a little bit of themselves, too. Because when I look at the crowd, it’s so diverse now. I don’t want to say it’s my best work yet, but [there’s] a lot more range and creativity in my voice.
T: You’re both Black women reworking classic genres. Do you think about the audience you’re reaching with your work?
N.R.: I have a very specific lens, right? I’m a woman in Hollywood, brown, plus size, so there’s a lot of othering that happens before I even put pen to paper. I’ve made it a pretty hard and fast rule that the humanity of the characters that I write and play needs to exist before the first page. I [don’t want] audiences that look like me to have to sit through Act I of a screenplay in which we have to justify why someone who looks like me is allowed to have love and exist in the world.
S.J.: I relate to that. I was not expecting to be here, career-wise, winning Grammys. But I don’t want to spend the next five years doing certain things that — not to disregard them — placate the audience. I’m going to grow as an artist who wants to forever be a student.
N.R.: That’s so smart. Following up “Insecure” with “The White Lotus,” that was my way to alert the audiences: “You are with me, not with the projects I do. So let’s go on this ride.”
T: What other work outside of your fields has influenced you?
S.J.: I’m a romantic comedy fanatic. I think at one point I said, “I’m gonna watch every single Black romantic comedy there is: ‘Brown Sugar’ (2002), ‘The Best Man’ (1999), ‘Deliver Us From Eva’ (2003).” They’ve influenced my language and how I interpret love — as almost fantastical, dreamlike.
N.R.: You’re speaking my language! I love walking around a museum with jazz or classical music on. It feels very romantic — like I’m in a rom-com. I went to [Vincent] van Gogh’s “Cypresses” exhibit [at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2023] the last time I was in New York. And I love [Mark] Rothko, Cy Twombly, [Jean-Michel] Basquiat. When I stand in front of amazing paintings, I’m in a frozen cel of a film strip — “Where is it going and where has it been?”
S.J.: I don’t visit museums that often, but I went to the Met to see its Harlem Renaissance exhibition [earlier this year]. I saw so many beautiful portraits and interpretations of life during that time. [There’s a] music, a lyrical nature to the artwork.
N.R.: You would love Kara Walker. She’s an incredible Black artist.
S.J.: [Searching on her phone] I’m seeing [her work] right now and it’s insane. My gosh. Thank you.
T: Natasha, do you have any other advice for Samara?
N.R.: I was very scared of my own voice, and it took a long time for me to not allow that fear to be in the driver’s seat. Just continue being unapologetically yourself.
S.J.: I’m 24 and still feel very new and very green, but definitely in a different position than when I was 21. It’s been difficult sticking up for myself when there are so many people around me who understandably project what they think success looks like for me. But if I feel a certain calling to a direction that I think will lead me closer to myself, I have to listen to that voice.
N.R.: I’ve picked up a practice of meditation and stillness in recent years that’s been revolutionary. When you get to a certain level, there are a lot of cooks in the kitchen, and you don’t want to be so defiant that you’re not hearing the good nuggets. You have to find the quiet so you can hear yourself. No one’s on your journey but you.
I never sought fame, or what other people might define as success. Even when I was in New York and had two cents to my name, I was just like, “I want to work with people who make me want to be better,” and not necessarily focusing on critical success. And to have that — to have people see my work and appreciate it, to get the Emmy nomination [for “The White Lotus”] — it was really core shaking. I had put a cap on what I thought I could achieve. And then when that got eclipsed, … “Now what?” It’s been a journey of giving myself permission to dream bigger. To reference art, if you’re looking at a Rothko with your nose up against the painting, you’re not going to really see the beauty of that piece. And so much of this stage of my career is about taking a step back and seeing how much more of the canvas there is to color in.
Samara, at what age did you realize that you could sing?
S.J.: When I was 16, we joined a new church. It was right next to my high school so, after school, I’d walk to rehearsals and be there for service. But the [minimum age] to be a praise-and-worship leader, like someone with a mic up front, was 18, and [when I was] 16 years old, they were like —
N.R.: “Pass her the mic,” right?
S.J.: And I was like: “No, please no, I don’t know what to say. I need to be an adult in order to talk about ‘[God’s] going to pay your bills!’” Looking back, it was helpful to realize from the start that it’s not about me. Being in church and sharing in that joy with people, it helped me to [say to myself], “OK, I’m going to maintain this instrument.” Another moment came earlier, when I was in a middle school version of [Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty’s 1990 musical] “Once on This Island.”
N.R.: I grew up in the church, too. My earliest theatrical performances were [summer] Bible school productions. And I was Mama Rose [in Jule Styne, Stephen Sondheim and Arthur Laurents’s 1959 musical, “Gypsy”] in high school.
S.J.: We should go see a show sometime. Next time you’re in New York.
N.R.: Yeah, we’ll go see a show. We’ll walk around MoMA. We’ll have an arty day.
S.J.: Yes, please. Amen.
This interview has been edited and condensed.
The post Natasha Rothwell and Samara Joy on Finding Their Voices appeared first on New York Times.