FOR THE RECORD

Singer- songwriter Victoria GirlingButcher is writing her own rules

IN THE NINETIES, two female musicians asked a bank for a car loan ahead of their South Island band tour. Despite their profit projections, the bank manager shook his head. “If you were a rugby club, the answer would be yes,” he told them.

One of those women happened to be Victoria GirlingButcher, a Taranaki-bred singer-songwriter (also known as VGB) who would go on to release four albums and perform in some of the nation’s largest stadiums. Suppose that bank manager had known she would someday coo summer ballads to thousands of festival-goers, sharing the stage with musical legend Sir Dave Dobbyn. What would he have said then?

“New Zealand isn’t always a place that values the arts, compared with somewhere like France where it’s so valued,” says Victoria. “Here, we value practical, tangible things such as a good rugby game.”

But not even a bank rejection could stop 19-year-old Victoria and bandmate Felicity Millar from touring the south. They borrowed a rumpty van and prayed to the live-music gods for a safe voyage. That’s Victoria for you — never letting inconveniences get in the way of her music.

Today, on a quiet street in New Plymouth, Victoria fills the dishwasher and folds her seven-year-old daughter Camille’s clothes. The daily tempo is a beat slower than this summer past when she and Dobbyn’s band played for some 50,000 people at Auckland’s Eden Park as part of a star-studded extravaganza headlined by Six60.

Since striking up a friendship with Dobbyn through their mutual manager in 2008, Victoria has toured with his band, on and off, as a back-up vocalist and guitarist.

“Dave’s songs resonate with New Zealanders in a particular way, and it never seems to tire. When you’re playing for these big crowds, they are fully with you. You sort of feel invincible after shows where you are performing for thousands and thousands of people.”

In the off-season, motherhood and songwriting take centre stage. When Victoria’s not recording in Auckland or at her local studio, she spends her days playing music and dreaming up new lyrics until it’s time to pick up her daughter from school. She has written and half-written “possibly hundreds” of songs in preparation for her second solo album, which will be released by the end of the year under her moniker, VGB.

Like most creatively inclined souls, musicians often find themselves wading through self-doubt, even when on the brink of their finest work. Victoria is no exception and relies on a tight-knit circle of musicians and producers to help her decide which songs are album-worthy. “Unless I have someone else hearing what I’m hearing, I’ll throw it all away. I think it’s normal though, especially as a singer,” she says.

There was never any doubt Victoria would make music her métier. Like many creatives of her ilk, school and exams didn’t come easy as a child. Music was her refuge; by age 13, she could play the piano and had a head full of original lyrics. Years later, she was diagnosed with dyslexia. “I always felt a little bit on the outside of things. But I think that’s a good thing as a songwriter. You end up getting quite good at looking at things from a different perspective,” she says.

Maybe she was destined to go about life slightly differently — at least creatively. Her mother Ali was a painter, and her grandmother a piano teacher. Her father Lance was editor of the Taranaki Herald and Taranaki Daily News and has gone down in history for his editorial decision to call their local mountain Taranaki instead of Egmont.

Victoria moved to Auckland to “get serious” after a few starving-artist years in the South Island (studying music in Nelson and hitchhiking to venues with her guitar). When she met future bandmates Marcus Lawson and Derek Metivie at an Auckland party, they clicked. In 1999, they formed an indie band called Lucid 3, with Victoria as frontwoman.