I just went to your typical public schools, and my dad would take us to the movies every week, or he’d buy scalped tickets to San Antonio Spurs games. I remember I was four or five years old and my parents, who were very young, took us to see The Police in Austin, and Iggy Pop opened.
My mother and father raised their eyebrows at first when I said I wanted to be an actor because I was in this industrial city. My dad had done a bit of boxing on the side, but he was a welder first and foremost. I was 17, and I said, ‘I want to be an actor.’ They worried it was a waste of time.
My dad was a roofer when I was young. I believe he owned his own roofing company in Florida. And then he fell through a roof, broke his back. Permanently. I mean, he’s not paralyzed or anything, but he’s had to deal with pain for all of his life since then.
We never had books at home, but my dad, seeing how keen I was to read, took me to Islington Library when I was about eight and we pulled out two – a Biggles and a science fiction novel. I never got the ace fighter pilot but fell in love with all things to do with the future and space. Isaac Asimov soon became my guiding star.
My dad was a serious alcoholic, and ultimately, that’s why he died. When you’re a child of someone who struggled with things like that, you look for the common thread. Is there a pattern? Is there an inheritance of pathology in some way? That haunts me.
I have four sisters at home, and both my mom and dad worked, and both of them took care of us. It wasn’t like my mom was fully domestic, or my dad was fully domestic: they were just equals in their relationship. So I grew up with the perspective that women should be pursuing their dreams and not have to depend on a guy.
I’m Italian. I love to cook Italian food, so I learned from my dad how to make sauce and meatballs and all that stuff. With my wife and kids, I started making homemade pasta. The very first time, I didn’t have a pasta maker, so I had to cut it with a knife, the old-school way! The noodles were all jacked up, but it was fun.
You have to respect your parents. They are giving you an at-bat. If you’re an entrepreneur and go into the family business, you want to grow fast. Patience is important. But respect the other party… My dad and I pulled it off because we really respect each other.
My dad’s family were political and he was always a theatrical creature, whereas my mum is really musical and her father was the touring pianist with Nat King Cole. My family was an explosive mixture of politics, religion and music – no wonder I turned out how I did.
If your dad died before you were born, yeah, it hurts – but it’s not like you had a connection with something that was real. Not to say it’s any better – but to have that connection and then have it ripped away was, like, the worst. My dad was such a good dad that when he left, he left a huge scar. He was my superhero.
I was born in Corpus Christi, Texas, the youngest of four girls, including my oldest sister, Lisa, who has special needs. My mom was a special education teacher, and my dad worked on the Army base. We weren’t wealthy, but we were determined to succeed.
I was born in Pascagoula, Mississippi, lived there a couple of times. My dad was in the Navy. So, we lived in Mississippi and South Carolina until I was 11, and then I moved to California, went to, you know, high school there in the Monterey Bay area.
My dad took me out to see a meteor shower when I was a little kid, and it was scary for me because he woke me up in the middle of the night. My heart was beating; I didn’t know what he wanted to do. He wouldn’t tell me, and he put me in the car and we went off, and I saw all these people lying on blankets, looking up at the sky.
My dad was a composer and a musician, but he never finished high school. His formal education was rather minimal from the standards of today’s college graduates and Ph.D.’s, but he had a deep interest in questions of science and questions of the universe.
We sang a lot of church music. We were very active Baptists. Supposedly, I started singing when I was being given a bath – at 14 months or something like that. My mother and dad both swore that was true, but I’m sure it wasn’t very good… We always had the Metropolitan Opera on the radio on Saturday afternoons.
I fell in love with stories watching a British television puppet show called ‘Thunderbirds’ when it first came out on TV, about 1965, so I would have been 4 or 5 years old. I went out into the garden at my mom and dad’s house, and I used to play with my little dinky toys, little cars and trucks and things.
I think, initially, my rebellion, my rebellion of going to college when my dad would have liked me to stay home and work in the herbs, I think that it was a pretty mild rebellion in the sense that I thought, ‘Well, I’m going to go learn how to be a music teacher so that I can come home and do choir.’
It’s hard for me to just say, ‘Wow, this is amazing – I’m famous. I’m living the dream.’ I sit there and think, ‘I’m scared – this can go away tomorrow.’ My dad always says that I’m a tortured soul because I’m never pleased; I never feel like I deserve what I’ve achieved.
My grandfather on my dad’s side was the first in our family to settle in the U.K. He came from Pakistan on his own in the ‘60s and worked in a cotton mill in Bolton, earning enough to bring over the rest of his family. My dad, Shah, was only about eight when he came to this country. Like most immigrants, he has a fierce work ethic.
I met Gemma, my wife, when she was 12. She had a schoolgirl crush on me and her dad had arranged for her to meet me. Later, she started coming to my concerts, but I only got to know her well after her mother died. I rang to see how she was, and that’s how it started.
My dad and I didn’t talk much. Our relationship was OK but not amazing. So there I was, dressed up in my sort of uniform, the clothes my band was wearing at the time. He could tell I was I getting serious. I guess he knew I was going to go for it. So he told me how to handle myself professionally, not to take what people write about me to heart.
I think it’s easiest to teach by example. My dad didn’t tell us to work hard; we just saw how hard he worked. I know I have shortcomings – like a short fuse – but I’ve learned you can’t come home from a long day of work and snap at the kids.
My dad lived a good life. He was a simple guy. His family had been poor, and he joined the Marines to be able to send money home to his mom and dad and brothers and sisters. He genuinely had the intention to live a good life and to respect other people.
I was brought up with beautiful music – Nat King Cole and Glen Miller from my dad, and my mum loved Judy Garland and Doris Day – brilliant stuff. Through my brothers and sisters I heard David Bowie and The Specials, The Carpenters, Meatloaf and The Rolling Stones.
I remember listening to Miles Davis in the car with my dad. I had just done my Grade 5 piano exam, and I was quite cocky. I said, ‘It sounds like he’s played the wrong note there.’ I remember the look of horror on my dad’s face, and thinking, ‘Wow, I have to figure out why that is not acceptable.’
