Another voice: Anna out on her own

IT’S that time of year when the British music industry is whipping itself into a state of apoplectic excitement at the prospect of a new batch of pop contenders sweeping all before them.

But amid the annual parade of Lady GaGa wannabes, pouty electronica artists and skinny indie bands, one performer stands moodily apart. The spiritual love-child of Nick Cave, Scott Walker and Siouxsie Sioux, young Londoner Anna Calvi cuts an eerie dash that feels jarringly out of kilter with the prevailing mood.

“Fitting in was never something that appealed to me,” she says, running a hand through her vast tousled mane. “I don’t keep up with current trends. I live in my own little world. The whole point of making an album was doing something that felt ‘true’ for want of a better word.”