Ask broadcaster-turned-singer-songwriter Leanne Malcolm what’s the most rock’n’roll thing she’s ever done and she pauses thoughtfully. There’s certainly been no smashing up of guitars and these days, she sticks to drinking tea or decaf coffee. But back in the ’90s, in her Nightline news reading era, she had a shot glass of whiskey – along with Rescue Remedy – hidden under her desk in the TV3 studio to help calm any nerves. If the floor manager smelt it, he didn’t say anything.
Decades later, the Queenstown-based journalist, who lives rurally with TV producer husband Philip Smith, still writes an entertainment column for a local newspaper, but it’s making music that is her main focus. Under the artist name Gina Malcolm (her middle name), she’s released debut album First Rodeo – described as “alt-country” songs – written by herself and producer Matt Joe Gow.
“I like being Gina,” she says.
“It indicates my life has shifted in radical ways and I’m not a one-trick pony.”
She’s even had a song on Spotify at the same time as her son Joel, 25, a music producer. At 62, Leanne is hoping her sea change might prove inspirational for other women who dread becoming invisible in their later years.
Has music always been a huge part of your life?
At 11, I got my first guitar, inspired by mum’s piano playing and country music passion, and my dad’s love for rock’n’roll. Johnny Cash, Jim Reeves, Elvis and Little Richard were always playing in our home. At 12, I wrote my own songs and sang in the school choir. I had to be home at 6pm every Saturday to watch Ready to Roll.
Why didn’t you follow a music career when you were younger?
I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I left Whakatāne’s Trident High School at 16. I was like, “Okay, I’ve got a deep, rich voice, perhaps I could read the news.” I went into the local radio station to do some work experience and they offered me a cadetship. That was it! I loved my job from the word go. Mum and Dad couldn’t believe their shy little girl was reading the news. I can be socially awkward, but put me in a studio, give me a microphone and I’m comfortable.
How did you make the switch from radio to TV?
I went to London on my OE and read news on BBC Radio 1. They gave me speech training to get rid of my “terrible New Zealand vowels”. I came back at 28, all cocky, thinking I’d try TV, so I wrote letters telling producers why they should hire me. TVNZ took me on for one year and I found it a really hard transition. It was a boys’ club back then and I only got “cat in the tree”-type stories. TV3 offered me a job, so I found my people there. I stayed for 20 years. It was just golden. But I got clucky and quit Nightline to try and get pregnant – the hours just weren’t helping me and falling pregnant was harder than I thought. I finally became pregnant at 36, while hosting Target. I wanted more children, but I had a miscarriage after Joel.
What drove your move from Auckland to Central Otago in the early 2000s?
I got all Earth Mothery after having our Joel. When he was two, I thought, “Imagine bringing up your child in this peaceful, wholesome community surrounded by nature.” When we moved from Auckland, people said we were mad. But Phil comes from Invercargill, so he had a lot of childhood memories in the South. We sold our house in Grey Lynn to buy a plot of former farmland between Queenstown and Arrowtown, which only housed a 1950s barn. It was very rustic. We built a house eventually.
Did you have any regrets?
No, but I will admit that chopping firewood, dealing with a rabbit problem and pretending you’re in Little House on the Prairie can get a bit tiresome. You’re much more exposed to nature in its extremities. We’re on bore water, so if a tree falls down and the power goes out, you can’t flush the loo! I started freelancing for two days a week for TV3 as their Central Otago reporter for 10 years, which I loved. I interviewed singer Shania Twain on top of the mountain and was flown to Fiordland to inspect DOC huts. But there were a lot of avalanches to report on too.
How did you make the transition from news desk to singing in covers bands?
Our son was starting to take drum lessons and be in a band at Arrowtown Primary. I met the teacher there, told her music was my number- one passion and I’d like to learn guitar with her.
After a few lessons, she said, “You’re not a brilliant guitarist, but you can sing well and have lovely harmonies. I’m going to get together a band for you and four other mature students.”
The band’s name was Swamp Donkey, which is English slang for a Bushpig-type woman. She booked us to play at a Melbourne Cup function and we insisted we weren’t ready to go public. But we did it and got more gigs at pubs and weddings. Then I was in a band called Werewolves of Lumsden. Our biggest claim to fame was playing support for Kiwi band The Warratahs at the Alexandra Blossom Festival.
What did your husband Phil think?
Probably that singing was just a hobby. Joel would quip, “There goes Mum off again with her mid-life crisis band!” My New Year’s resolution every year was to record and release an album. Finally, at 62 – and it took a lot of courage – I asked Tom Maxwell, a talented Arrowtown musician and producer, if he would look over the songs I’d written and work on them with me. He immediately wanted to record them. Tom and his brother Sam are in my current band.
You call yourself a “nana rocker”. What’s been some of the challenges?
Tom calls me a Luddite – I know I am! Technology is stressful for me. I’ve just employed a young woman for my social media reels. There’s always a little voice inside my head going, “Oh, don’t promote yourself too much, Leanne.” But if you don’t tell people about your music, how will they know? It’s not just a young person’s game.
What’s a quote you live by?
David Bowie said, “The great thing about getting older is you finally become who you were meant to be.”
Singing is what I was meant to be doing, but I wasn’t brave enough as a young woman. I’m also not under any illusion that I will sell more than 150 vinyl albums. I’m not in it to make money or chase fame.
Have you ever felt that “invisibility” women over 50 often talk about?
I push myself so I’m not invisible. I love dressing up. I’m a show-off. But there were stages when I had long spells down South, then I’d come up to Auckland and feel like an absolute country bumpkin. I want my journey to be inspirational for other women who don’t want to be invisible in their later years. I never expected in my sixties to be a first-time recording artist, getting interviewed by American radio stations or having an agent in Sydney.
Was dyeing your hair red an intentional part of your rock-chick transformation?
Partly. I was mid-50s, and I went to the hairdresser’s and said, “Hey, we need to go red.” It was so liberating – I felt reborn! Phil hated it. But it suits me so much better than blonde. I still get recognised with red hair. I was running with the dog in Auckland the other day, I had my glasses on and a guy shouted out, “Hey, Leanne… Nightline!” I just about died. My only response was, “Mate, you must be old.”
Who do you look up to?
Singer-songwriters Lucinda Williams, Chrissie Hynde and Emmylou Harris. They’re still singing and performing at 72, 74 and 78!
Tell us about meeting Phil?
It was at TVNZ. My first impression was Phil was a rascal – and intelligent. We’d both come back from living in London and Phil was producing TV show Holmes at that point.
I said to him, “Auckland’s really boring. I want to go back to London.”
And he replied, “I’ll take you to a place hotter than Soho on a Saturday night.”
It was the Exchange Bar in Parnell. What a line! Our friendship just developed. We married at Millbrook in Queenstown in 1997, the day before Princess Diana died. All my journalist friends who were at the wedding had to hurriedly fly back to Auckland the next morning.
My dear mum said to Phil, “Don’t tell Leanne.” Classic!
He replied, “Oh, I think she will find out!”
Some of your songs on First Rodeo are about your late parents?
Yes. Deep Dark Blue is about my dad, who I lost to cancer 10 years ago. I wrote about Mum losing her eyesight from macular degeneration and how horrible that was. The content may sound melancholy, but the songs are actually uplifting.
For Leanne’s music and gigs, check out @ginamalcolmmusic
