Best of Rock

”˜I have the shakes,” says Adele. It’s 7:30 pm and she’s in the basement dressing room of a 1,200-capacity club near Hamburg’s red-light district, wearing the same black turtleneck sweater. She’s been drinking coffee with Louis on her lap and smoking another cigarette. As always, she’s got some stage fright. “I’m scared of audiences,” she says. “I get shitty scared. One show in Amsterdam, I was so nervous I escaped out the fire exit. I’ve thrown up a couple of times. Once in Brussels, I projectile-vomited on someone. I just gotta bear it. But I don’t like touring. I have anxiety attacks a lot.”

How does she get herself onstage? “I just think that nothing’s ever gone horrifically wrong,” she says. “Also, when I get nervous, I try to bust jokes. It does work. I chat a lot of fucking shit, though.” For most people who get stage fright, the nerves go away once the show starts, but for Adele, things get worse. “My nerves don’t really settle until I’m offstage,” she says. “I mean, the thought of someone spending $20 to come and see me and saying ”˜Oh, I prefer the record and she’s completely shattered the illusion’ really upsets me. It’s such a big deal that people come give me their time.”

She also has an alter ego she uses to pump herself up, called Sasha Carter ”“ a composite of Beyoncé’s Sasha Fierce and June Carter. “I was about to meet -Beyoncé,” she says, “and I had a full-blown anxiety attack. Then she popped in looking gorgeous, and said, ”˜You’re amazing! When I listen to you I feel like I’m listening to God.’ Can you believe she said that?” Later, “I went out on the balcony crying hysterically, and I said, ”˜What would Sasha Fierce do?’ That’s when Sasha Carter was born.”

One thing that Adele says she isn’t anxious about is her weight. It’s fluctuated throughout her life, but she says she doesn’t diet or work out. “My life is full of drama, and I don’t have time to worry about something as petty as what I look like,” she says. “I don’t like going to the gym. I like eating fine foods and drinking nice wine. Even if I had a really good figure, I don’t think I’d get my tits and ass out for no one. I love seeing Lady Gaga’s boobs and bum. I love seeing Katy Perry’s boobs and bum. Love it. But that’s not what my music is about. I don’t make music for eyes, I make music for ears.”

She leans down to Louis and holds out a treat. “Lady Gaga!” she commands. “Put your paws up!” He sits up on his legs with his paws up. The topic turns to Mumford & Sons, whom she loves. “They’re closer to how I feel about Etta James than anyone,” she says. “Such articulate voices.”

At 8:40 pm, Adele stubs out her cigarette and stops playing with Louis, stands on the edge of the stage and begins singing ”˜Hometown Glory,’ a gentle love letter to London from 19. The audience can hear but not see her. Soon she takes her place on the wooden stool at centre stage. With English-language audiences, Adele can be “Bette Midler funny,” but tonight she focuses on the songs, sometimes singing with a hand in the pocket of her jumper. She runs through songs from both her albums and a cover, ”˜If It Hadn’t Been for Love,’ by a Nashville band called the Steeldrivers. She introduces it by saying, “It’s a song about shooting your wife. And I feel like shooting my ex.”

In between songs, Adele tells the crowd, “My dog is on tour with me. He’s a dachshund. I have a German dog! He loves it here. He’s in the homeland!” There’s a sprinkling of laughs in the audience. She closes with a loud, powerful, stomping ”˜Rolling in the Deep,’ and even though she walks off and the lights come on and someone else’s music starts playing from the house speakers, the crowd just stands there. They cheer, clap and chant her name, but she’s done. “Always leave them wanting more,” she says in the dressing room, cigarette in hand, wine nearby, Louis on her lap. “That was an emotional show!”

With the show behind her, Adele is finally at ease. She jokes about what would happen if she were in a happy relationship. “No music!” she says. “My fans will be like, ”˜Babe! Please! Get divorced!’”

She laughs. “Don’t worry. My bubble always fuckin’ bursts.”