Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, April 28, 1995 TAG: 9504280015
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MARK MORRISON STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
KATHY MATTEA was singing in London when her life changed.
``I went up for a high note and it came out like Joe Cocker,'' she explained.
Instantly, she knew that her career as a singer was in jeopardy. The muffed note was caused by a blood vessel that hemorrhaged on her vocal cords, causing potentially permanent damage.
It would require surgery - and time to think.
This was in 1992, at the peak of Mattea's steady climb in country music. She seemingly had it all, yet she was running scared. She talked about the ordeal during a telephone interview last week from Boston, where she had performed the night before. She will perform Sunday in Virginia Tech's Burruss Auditorium.
Mattea said the injury caused her to evaluate her life and her ambitions for the first time. It's a common response to such a crisis. She concluded that she had not handled success well.
She felt undeserving, she said, like she was masquerading as a country star, always worrying that someone would say they had made a mistake and take everything away.
To compensate for the constant anxiety and stress, Mattea overworked. This, in turn, caused exhaustion, which she said made her lazy about staying in shape and taking care of her voice. Too often, she said, she didn't warm up properly before singing, and when she did sing she had to strain her voice.
Finally, in London, all of this took its toll. Doctors were optimistic, but they warned that her singing voice might not return.
Mattea weighed her options. At least the problem wasn't life threatening. If she couldn't sing, if she couldn't continue her career, there were other things to do.
She thought about finishing college, about pursuing songwriting, writing a cookbook, training for a marathon, and planting one great garden in her lifetime that wouldn't die a slow death while she's on the road.
At least she had enjoyed a good run, she told herself.
Mattea, 36, was an unlikely candidate for a career in country music. Music didn't play a big role in her family. For Mattea, who skipped the first grade and found academics unchallenging, music was something her parents and school counselors thought would keep her occupied.
``The only thing I didn't get bored with was music,'' she said. But she never gave it much thought as an occupation. Nor did her ``Depression-era'' parents, she said. ``Music as a real job wasn't really an option.''
She's a native of Cross Lanes, W.Va., on the outskirts of Charleston - a corner of the world that didn't have much to offer. There was a gas station, a grocery, a combination post office/hardware store, and a beer joint called Ruth's.
Her father worked in a chemical plant. Her mother was a homemaker. They still live in the house where Mattea was raised. She has two older brothers. One is a former corporate climber who now lives close to home and works as a salesman. The other is a dispatcher for the coal barges along the Ohio River.
She went to West Virginia University in Morgantown, where she couldn't decide on a major, switching from engineering to physics and chemistry to social work. On weekends, she played folk and bluegrass music with friends. They only did it for fun, usually at someone's house, but it wasn't long before several hundred people were showing up.
One of Mattea's friends was an aspiring songwriter. In 1978, he decided to try his luck in Nashville and persuaded Mattea to come along, a move she said she never would have tried alone. This was after her sophomore year.
``Our friends were all taking bets on when I'd move home,'' she said. Today - 17 years later - she's still there. Her songwriting friend only lasted 16 months. He's a dentist now.
Breaking into the business didn't happen overnight, however. Mattea toiled as a tour guide at the Country Music Hall of Fame, as a secretary for an insurance company, and as a waitress. She also took voice lessons and performed at countless songwriter open-mike nights around town.
``Eventually, I walked into the right room at the right time,'' she said.
She got work singing commercial jingles and demo tapes for other songwriters. After a few years, this led to a record contract of her own. She said her goal then was the same as her goal today. That is: ``Not to fall off the face of the earth.''
So far, she hasn't.
Since 1984, Mattea has released 10 albums and established a reputation as a kind of latter-day Emmylou Harris, with high standards of musicianship and artistic integrity. Twice, she has been named the Country Music Association's Female Vocalist of the Year. She also has a Grammy Award to her credit for the song ``Where've You Been,'' co-written by her husband of seven years, songwriter Jon Vezner.
Stylistically, like Emmylou Harris, Mattea's alliances run stronger toward folk-rock and contemporary bluegrass than pure country. She said she would like to record a traditional gospel album and an album of Irish or Scottish music.
As for her voice, after the surgery she was back on stage within six weeks. She said she warms up ``religiously'' now, and jogs almost daily. But she isn't running scared anymore. She's more relaxed, happier.
``If anything,'' she said, ``I sing better now.''
Kathy Mattea: Sunday 8 p.m. at Virginia Tech's Burruss Auditorium. Tickets $17 and $10. Call 231-5615.
by CNB