For indispensable reporting on the coronavirus crisis, the election, and more, subscribe to the Mother Jones Daily newsletter.





Remember your high school prom? Now imagine, for the slow dance, the class nerd—pale, big glasses, a little chubby—walked on stage and belted out the most exquisite Otis Redding cover you’d ever heard. That’s what came to mind when I saw Paul Janeway, the lead singer of St. Paul & the Broken Bones, perform at the Fillmore in San Francisco over Valentine’s Day weekend. Featuring Janeway’s wrenching vocals plus sizzling guitar, horns, and rhythm, the tight and explosive seven-piece Broken Bones banded together in Birmingham, Alabama, and released their first EP in 2012. They’ve since appeared on Letterman and at Bonnaroo, and released a full album, Half the City, produced by the keyboardist from the Alabama Shakes.

Though his passionate tunes will surely inspire steamy encounters, Janeway’s roots are pure: He learned to sing at his Pentecostal-leaning church. So it might come as a surprise that the band’s song “Call Me” was included in Fifty Shades of Grey, the film based on E.L. James’ erotic BDSM novel.

Decked out in a crisp navy suit, a red satin pocket square, and flashy gold shoes, Janeway charged through Redding numbers during his Fillmore set, as well as a dance-worthy cover of Radiohead’s “Fake Plastic Trees” and a killer version of Paul McCartney and Wings’ “Let Me Roll It.” The Broken Bones’ gospel-infused originals kept the audience swaying through the show, and delivered proof that classic soul lives on through more than just covers.

“I had no idea what it was. Then I saw a preview for it, and I was like, ‘Oh shit. Oh no. What have I done?'”

I spoke with Janeway the morning after his latest San Francisco show.

Mother Jones: You’ve said: “My goal in life until I was about 18 years old was to be a preacher.” What was your first reaction to learning that your song would be in Fifty Shades of Grey?

Paul Janeway: [Laughs.] All right, my first Fifty Shades of Grey question! When they presented the licensing opportunity, they presented it as: It’s going to be a huge movie, they want to put a decent amount of the song in the movie in a nonsexual scene.

I knew it was a book, but I had no idea what it was. So I was like, sure, big movie, good exposure. I’ll be in this romantic comedy. Which is what I thought it was: a romantic comedy. It’s a good way to make money in the music business, you know. Then I saw a preview for it, and I was like, “Oh, shit. Oh, no. What have I done?”

To me it’s kind of funny. I’m glad it’s in a nonsexual scene to be honest with you, not for my sake but for my family’s sake. I don’t have any moral things about it. It’s not like we’re in the movie—it’s just a song for a minute.

MJ: My friend had heard some of your songs but didn’t know much about you. When we first walked in show, his first words were: “Wow, it’s just a bunch of white dudes.” Do you get that a lot?

PJ: Yeah, a little bit. It is interesting that people get kind of shocked by that, I guess. I don’t ever really think about that because it’s just music that we love. We’re from Alabama, and if you look at the Muscle Shoals Swampers, that was just a bunch of white dudes. They wrote some of the best soul music ever written. I think if people don’t know the musical history, I think they’re like, “Oh?!”

MJ: I didn’t realize you were so theatrical: You were humping the speakers at one point, throwing down the mic. Did that dramatic side start before you became a singer, or has music brought it out of you?

PJ: That’s always been something I’ve been attracted to. I love Broadway musicals. Really for me, as St. Paul, it’s an exaggeration of my personality put on to the max. It’s just ridiculous. I don’t typically climb on speakers in real life. It’s an adventure within the show—like, okay, here’s something to climb on. The first night [in San Francisco] I got on the really tall speaker and got really scared. I’m like, I’m not doin’ that the second night!

In Dallas one time, it wasn’t well-lit on the stage. I jumped in front of the horn mics and I couldn’t see the stage or the monitor. So I tripped over the monitor and took out both horn mics, the trombone player broke his slide out. I thought I broke my ankle, but it was just really badly bruised.

MJ: You sing so much about love and affection: How do you get in the mood if your personal life is making you feel down or cynical?

PJ: I got married seven weeks ago. It’s weird because I’m very happy, and some of the songs are about heartbreak. I’m not really heartbroken. When it’s show time, when you have a song that’s danceable, it’s easy to sing about love and sex.

“‘Try a Little Tenderness’ is a monster of a song. I don’t know why we have the guts to do it. It’s sacred territory.”

It’s really the ones about heartbreak and sadness that are difficult to handle because I have to get to a place mentally during the song that’s not really where I want to be. We have this song called “Broken Bones and Pocket Change“: Sometimes I get really emotional, and I have to take a break, 20 seconds to be like, “Okay, we’re done with that one.” You want the song to have the same meaning it had when you sang it the first time.

MJ: You really belt. How do you take care of your voice?

PJ: A lot of Coca-Cola. [Laughs]. That’s not really good for you, but I do drink a lot of Coke. I don’t drink alcohol; I don’t smoke. I never have in my 31 years on the planet. I do vocal warm-ups. I use this spray called Entertainer’s Secret. And sleep. The thing is, I can sleep 12 to 13 hours. It’s pretty vital to the rejuvenation of the voice. You do it night in and night out, your voice has to recuperate, it’s key. I think if I was a hard partier, I think it would be a lot tougher. But I’m not; I’m pretty lame.

MJ: I think I heard you say on stage that Otis Redding’s “Try a Little Tenderness” was the best soul song of all times.

PJ: It’s definitely one of the best. As a song live, you can’t follow it. I think Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come,” and then a William Bell song, “I Forgot to Be Your Lover.” Those three songs to me—it’s kind of like picking your favorite kid though.

“Try a Little Tenderness” is an old song. But as far as Otis Redding’s execution, it’s one of the best executions ever. Live, it’s a monster of a song. I don’t know why we have the guts to do it. It’s sacred territory. I think when we were starting out, we were too stupid to think about that. We just loved the song. We were like, we know this is a classic: If you can’t measure yourself to that, you don’t need to be doin’ this.

MJ: Let’s talk about the art of the carefully selected pocket squares. Do you pick your own?

PJ: I do, I do. I’ve actually lost quite a few at this point. They end up in my book bag or somewhere else. There was a really great one, that was like lacy, almost like panties. It was pink. That was the best pocket square I’ve ever had, but I cannot find it. It was amazing.

I actually handle all that stuff myself. Those gold shoes are the only thing I like wearing—they are just flashy enough to make me feel good about doin’ it.

MJ: What’s the red pin you’re always wearing?

PJ: It says Alabama. It’s an Alabama football thing. It’s my code way to stayin’ real tied to the state of Alabama—a little piece of home.