Backstage at the Brighton Centre, seated alongside Paloma Faith in her dressing room, Owen Jones wants to know what I think about him delivering a speech on stage in a couple of hours. He’s going on in between Faith’s headlining set and the support band, US blues rockers Vintage Trouble. When I tell him I think it’s bold, he frowns. “Bold? I’m not sure bold’s good. Turning up at a party without any clothes on is bold, isn’t it?”

It’s certainly almost unprecedented for a mainstream pop star like Faith – three double-platinum albums, winner of this year’s best female solo artist at the Brit awards – to invite a left-wing Guardian columnist along to address the audience on everything from social injustice to the NHS and the tendency of the right to blame problems on immigration. You do rather get the feeling that not everyone around her is terribly happy about the idea, not least because the singer is insisting on accompanying Jones (who will also speak at her upcoming London gig) on stage. “I’m going to stand there and make them listen,” she says. “I’ve been told I shouldn’t, because my show usually starts with a big reveal, and they think it’s going to spoil it. But this is more important.” So what has brought the two together?

Paloma Faith: I was raised to be politically aware. As a child, still in my pushchair, I was taken on every anti-Thatcher march going, practically every weekend. And my mum is a staunch feminist who brought me up with the confidence to have a voice, to believe it could count, unlike what’s going on in society now, with people thinking their voice is insignificant, so they don’t do anything. I was with a journalist the other day and he said: “Do you think you’ve become more political?” I said: “No, I was biding my time until my voice would be heard.”

I’ve been reading a lot of articles by Owen and his books, as well as Rick Edwards’s None of the Above, and Russell Brand’s Revolution. I felt an affinity with what Owen was saying. It’s relatable, understandable. It’s not force-feeding.

Owen Jones: I think people with beliefs like mine, on the left, often preach to the converted, and that can make our message inaccessible. People who might be sympathetic are alienated by how we communicate. I’ve got parents, grandparents and great grandparents who go way back in left-wing politics, and there’s a kind of language that can appeal to people raised in that environment – but to everyone else, it’s alienating.

When I speak in schools, I find young people are actually aware of the problems they’re going to face: under-employment, lack of secure jobs, zero hours, punishing debt if they get a university education, a struggle to find affordable housing. They just don’t see politics as a vehicle to change any of that. It seems distant, full of people who don’t look like them, who don’t speak in a language that resonates with them. So they lack hope. They become resigned: they think injustice is like the weather, it’s the way the world is. And all that anger gets turned on their neighbours. They blame unemployed people or immigrants for the problems they face.

‘I’ve always been open about my views’ … Paloma Faith. Photograph: Ross Gilmore/Redferns via Getty Images

PF: It feels like people have started to speak out. I’m pretty sure not all of my audience buy the Guardian, but every time I mention the NHS on stage, everyone applauds. “Sorry I had to cancel those two gigs,” I say. “I was in hospital – God bless the NHS!” And they cheer every time. So my audience loves the NHS, they want to protect the NHS.

This is about showing how their vote can be detrimental to that, how they may be voting for a party that won’t protect the NHS. It’s about clarity. There’s a lack of it and Owen’s good at bridging the gap between politics and people.

OJ: What I want to talk about is how, instead of turning on our neighbours, we should hold people in power responsible. Things can be overcome. If we look at our history, about people whose faces have been airbrushed out of existence, ordinary people fought …

PF: … together.

OJ: Together. Against odds that seemed overwhelming – and they beat them. A gig is a good place to do that. Because why do people love going to gigs? They love being part of something bigger than themselves, that sense of unity. You’re there enjoying something with others who feel the same way. It’s about tapping into that feeling.

PF: It’s strange how the media previously avoided asking about my views. I’ve always been very open about them, but whenever I went on a chat show or whatever, nobody would ask. Also, as a woman, you often get criticised in the media. I get messages all the time going: “Don’t mix politics with music.” I’m like, what bloody planet are you living on?

Actually, the NME tried to interview me once about my opinions, at a festival. There were loads of rock bands there, but everyone was sheepish about saying anything. I remember saying to them: “If the NME have got to interview me, a fucking pop star, then we’re all fucked.” They asked if they could put that on their website and my label said no, because they were afraid. You can print that.

The music industry’s scared – they just want to sell records. You know, if you ask artists to sign a petition or something, it’s all: “Oh, I’ve got to go through this person, that person. Can I get involved? Can I be seen to show affiliation with this or that?” It’s like people don’t know their minds any more.

OJ: I’ve spoken to other bands, people who haven’t got Paloma’s level of fame, and they’re scared that if they speak out, they’ll sabotage their careers. That’s what they’re told, isn’t it? Or there’s a fear of getting trashed by the right-wing press.

Also, more generally, movements for social justice got a bit of a kicking after the 1980s. People who might previously have been well-disposed thought: “Fuck it, it’s all over, isn’t it?” So there was that sense of defeat, which is just rampant.

PF: Music reflects what’s going on.

OJ: Exactly. And there’s a sense of resignation – that even if people are fed up with how things are, they can’t possibly see what they can do about it. Maybe in the 1980s, there was more of a sense of: “Oh, there’s these problems, but we can do something if we organise together.” The more we chip away at things, the more other people will have the courage to do the same. But, as I say, it could go spectacularly wrong. I could get bottled.

PF: Not if I’m stood next to you. Not on my watch.

• Paloma Faith plays the NIA, Birmingham, on 19 March. Then touring.