Natalie Imbruglia: At 51, I’m not dating. My son’s the love of my life

Natalie Imbruglia, 51, is an Australian-British singer-songwriter and actor who first found fame playing Beth Brennan in Neighbours before her 1997 hit “Torn” made her an international star. She has since released six studio albums and sold more than 10 million records worldwide. She was married to Silverchair frontman Daniel Johns from 2003 to 2008, and now has a six-year-old son, conceived through IVF. Her seventh album, Algorithm, is released on 4 September through Landgirl Records, the label she founded to put out the record on her own terms. Here, she looks back at the moments that shaped her, from the pressures of global fame to her bad reputation for always being late on the school run. Shorts I’m definitely not lucky in love – but the common denominator is me. I had a successful marriage until it ended, and he was the love of my life. You move through phases. At the moment, my son is the love of my life. That is not a replacement for a relationship – it is unconditional love. Between work and being available for him, there is not much time for dating. It isn’t a “get the violin out” situation. I am happy with it for now. I haven’t had a moment of real depression since becoming a mum. I have experienced more stress: you now have two people to worry about. But your capacity to love expands exponentially, as does the joy a child brings. I decided not to exhaust myself by pretending to be a more conventional mother. I am quirky, so I am myself and do the best I can. There is no single right way to parent. My way may not be traditional, but it works for us. One of the school mums once said: “We must be late because Natalie’s here.” I am absolutely not glamorous on the school run, so I thought that was brilliant. I’m fortunate that the parents at his school are very cool and I am just another mum. I would hate them to be starstruck. I am an observer: when I enter a room, I want to look at everyone else, so being watched feels weird. But I became famous at 16, before I was fully formed, so I do not know anything different. I’m glad I’m not as famous as I was in 1997. Would I like to earn more money? Yes. But I would not want to be back on that pedestal, because it is a long way to fall. I got agoraphobia, became paranoid and had a stalker. Nobody needs that. The wonderful side is hearing that the music has affected someone’s life. People say: “I grew up with you. Your songs are bookmarks in my life.” In an ego-driven industry, that reminder of substance is welcome. Spotify sent me a plaque for a billion streams – and it arrived broken. I got my handyman to repair it because I was too frightened they wouldn’t send another one. There is something poetic about complaining that streaming ruined music, then putting the plaque on my wall. The industry has always changed: the record-label model broke down, we adjusted to streaming, and now the next challenge is AI. AI cannot replace an artist. People love not only the work but who the artist is and the energy they bring. The relationship between artist and audience cannot be generated. I funded my new album myself. Every musician’s fee and every bill are my responsibility. There was no label advance – it is my money, which I have to recoup. That creates pressure, but there is freedom too. I formed Landgirl Records, made the record and found the right distributor. What matters is deciding how and when my music is heard and doing things on my own terms. I shot a video for my next single at midnight with my phone gaffer-taped to the dashboard. I love the freedom and control of working with a smaller group. Nobody can bump me down the list to prioritise a label’s top earners. People try to protect me. I say: “Don’t protect me – tell me everything.” That can wind some people up, so you find the ones who understand how you work. Before I go on stage, I’m out of my body, folding napkins in the dressing room and behaving strangely. I procrastinate and enter this peculiar headspace. Then I walk on stage, close my eyes and sing, and it becomes blissful. I want everyone to go home more joyful than when they arrived. I love making eye contact and feeling that energy come back. I get completely blissed out. At some point, I may break my hip because I still move around and insist on heels – boots, admittedly – but one day I am going to fall. The problem begins when you start trying to please other people. You have to value yourself, believe you deserve your place, and make music you love and want to dance to. Usually, people respond to that. I have financed the album, built the team, made the decisions, and accepted the pressure. For the first time, the whole process belongs to me. At this age, exercise is less about looking good in a swimsuit than feeling good in my body. The important part is not aching and keeping my lung capacity strong for the stage. I jog in the fields around my home and use a converted barn for mat work, light weights and Pilates. Neurodiversity is an absolute superpower. I grew up surrounded by list-makers: my mother was a teacher and then a school principal, and my sister Michelle makes lists too. I have always had a capacity for hyperfocus. When I was a dancer, I would practise my time step over and over in the garage. It made me good at what I do. Perimenopause was when I learnt different neurodivergent traits can be interconnected, from a doctor. It helped explain things. I thought, “Oh gosh, I’ve got all the things. I thought I only had one thing.” Knowledge is power, but ultimately they’re just labels. Does it matter exactly which specific thing it is? I got to this age thinking I have one thing and then discovered it might be another. I’ve spent most of my life finding ways to work with it. The processes I use to deal with anxiety are my friends – simply taking those away and putting medication in their place isn’t necessarily helpful. Natalie’s new album, ‘Algorithm’, is released on 4 September