Soulful prodigy Judi Jackson, 26, is a wandering star. From New York to Notting Hill, the nomadic jazz singer has won plaudits wherever she’s settled down, with a silky sound halfway between Nina Simone and Amy Winehouse.
It’s important “in a big city like London, to shrug off fear, stick to your story, stay on track”, she says. Let’s try and keep her.
If your house was falling into a sinkhole, what would you save?
The letters that my dad sent me when I first moved to London that have got me through some hard times. He said: “Be happy, healthy, strong and free. Don’t take no wooden nickles.” Which I love, as it’s such an old-fashioned way of saying stay alert.
A day in your life that you’d like to relive?
Love Supreme at the Roundhouse. The band smashed it, the energy in the room was infectious, and I was happy for the entire day.
The worst job you’ve done?
I did a lot of temp work in New York and fell asleep at the computer doing office data-insertion work after I’d been doing a gig the night before. It wasn’t that bad; they just let me sleep. Stay woke, that’s my advice.
Guiltiest pleasure?
Favourite smell?
Lemongrass, lavender and Arabic oud perfume.
Most starstruck you’ve been?
Meeting Michelle Obama when she came and spoke at my university in Virginia. She’s so articulate, poised and fierce, and she told me that I was beautiful and liked my straw hat. I also sang for Bill Clinton when I was in high school — he’s a very cool dude. I love a bit of politics but I also hate it. Music is the antithesis.
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