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NANCY SINATRA
By Caroline RyderIllustration By Shepard Fairey
Nancy Sinatra’s vinyl go-go boots, like Mary Quant’s miniskirts and John Lennon’s glasses, have come to symbolize a moment in time: a moment in the 1960s when girls finally realized they didn’t need to spend all day pining over their loser boyfriends – they could just give them the finger instead. “One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you,” purred Sinatra in “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’,” the kitschy girl power anthem that made a feminist statement while simultaneously setting a million loins ablaze. The song established Sinatra as an icon of a new, more independent generation of women, paving the way for Debbie Harry and other badass rebel blondes of the future. “Believe it or not, at the time, the boots were very shocking,” says Sinatra, referred to as “The First Lady of Rock ‘n’ Roll” by KROQ DJ Rodney Bingenheimer. “People didn’t know what to make of them-or me.”
Nancy Sinatra was born in Jersey City, New Jersey, in 1940, the daughter of crooner Frank Sinatra and his first wife, Nancy Barbato. When the younger Nancy decided to become a singer, her father had one piece of advice for her: “Don’t do what I do.” So she avoided the big-band sound championed by her daddy and worked on her own, more bubble-gum sound. Despite being part of the Sinatra clan, success didn’t come on a plate. She was on the verge of being dropped from her father’s label when she met her svengali, Lee Hazelwood, the mustachioed producer who would become the Serge Gainsbourg to her Jane Birkin, collaborating with her to create a string of camp, Western-tinged pop hits.
The first was “Boots,” for which Hazelwood advised Sinatra to lower her voice a notch, urging her, as legend has it, to “sing like a 16-year-old who dates 45-year-old truckers.” The result was a detached purr that hovers somewhere between schoolgirl and call girl, a cool-yet-oddly-authentic drawl that suggests everything- and says nothing. “Boots” was an instant hit, especially popular among troops in Vietnam, who used it as a marching song. Since its 1966 release, it has been covered several times – check out Nick Cave’s new-wave, Megadeth’s heavy-metal, and Operation Ivy’s punk-rock interpretations of the song (Billy Ray Cyrus, Jessica Simpson, and Miss Piggy have also tried “Boots” on for size).
Sinatra’s image back then, all platinum, back-combed hair and smoldering eyes, led to her being dubbed “the American Brigitte Bardot.” It was an apt comparison, as the Gallic femme fatale Bardot had always been one of Sinatra’s heroes, along with Marilyn Monroe. “As a little girl I had crushes on both of them; they were so gorgeous,” says Sinatra. “I was fortunate enough to meet Marilyn, and she was dear and soft, and her skin was perfect, and everything was just meant to be. And she had this aura about her. There is a light about certain people – a shininess, an illumination. I’ve only seen it once before, and that was with my dad.” Nancy Sinatra came to epitomize the sexual revolution, bridging the gap between the starchy ‘50s and the liberated, freewheeling ‘60s. Her debut album, Sugar, which featured a photo of the singer tugging down on her bikini bottoms, was banned in Boston because it was deemed too racy. Even so, she claims that behind the scenes she was still pretty na•ve about sexuality. “I was engaged by 19 and divorced by 24. Back then, we didn’t go to bed with someone. We married them first and then figured it out. It was stupid.”
Following the success of “Boots,” Sinatra and Hazelwood went on to score a number of lounge-y hits, including their classic duet “Some Velvet Morning,” which would later be covered by Lydia Lunch, and then by Primal Scream, with Kate Moss taking on Sinatra’s vocals. In 1967, Sinatra teamed up with her pops for the sugar-coated duet “Something Stupid,” (occasionally referred to as “The Incest Song”), and in the same year sang the theme to the James Bond movie You Only Live Twice, often considered the best Bond theme song ever written.
After 1969, the hits dried up, and Sinatra gave up music to raise her family. She would make a comeback in the ‘90s, controversially posing nude in Playboy well into her 50s – think extremely hot MILF. Frank was apparently furious. But there was something she didn’t realize: her cult icon status among Gen-Xers. “I was not even aware that the younger generation saw me as inspiration,” she says. “I was pitching myself to entirely the wrong audience.”
Eventually, upon the encouragement of her daughter, Sinatra approached a number of contemporary artists, and found herself collaborating with the likes of Morrissey, Jon Spencer, Reno, Calexico, Sonic Youth, Pete Yorn, Steve Van Zandt, and Jarvis Cocker, all of them long-time admirers, on her album Nancy Sinatra, released in September 2004 to much critical acclaim. Collaborating with younger artists gave Sinatra the affirmation she had been seeking her entire life, and it finally allowed her to step out from under her father’s considerable shadow, proving her to be an iconic artist in her own right.
“For 40 years, I struggled against the ‘Sinatra’s daughter/onehit wonder’ stereotype,” says Sinatra, whose new band lineup has included Clem Burke of Blondie and former Guns N’ Roses guitarist Gilby Clarke. “Working with young people gave me credibility. Billboard named my album one of the best that year the first time they had ever recognized me like that. Now I can sit back and say, ‘Okay, I did it!’ With a little help from my friends.”