Suzanne Cook - in her own words

I was born in Stockwell, South London, into a working-class family.  I never knew my father and I hardly knew my mum.  She was only sixteen when she had me.  I remain her only child.  Soon after I was born, my mum had a nervous breakdown, claiming she’d been abused by my father.  She never fully recovered.  My earliest memories are plagued by vague grey images of visits to austere psychiatric hospitals.  It was my Nan who brought me up.  My Granddad was an alcoholic and a gambler.  There were always arguments and fights.  It was inevitable that I ended up in foster care.   To relieve the stress of living, I would sing.  Singing was my therapy.  I attended Stockwell Primary School, but I found it difficult to fit in.  I was shy and sensitive.  I remember being teased about not having a dad.  The only time I felt relaxed was when I was performing on stage in one of the school’s musical productions.  From an early age, I knew that I wanted to be a performer.  That was where I felt most alive.

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My secondary school life was miserable and short.  My mum was back on the scene, and I could not concentrate, even though I showed potential.  I ran away from school at fourteen, after a bad fight in the playground.  The other girl came off worse than me, but that wasn’t the end of it.  I was threatened by her older brother and his friends.  I needed to get away, so I moved in with my mum.  That was a big mistake. 

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One day, she brought a man home from the hospital.  He was twenty-six; I was only fifteen.  When mum was high on her medication, he took advantage of the situation, and me.  In desperate need of some sort of stability, I moved back with my Nan.  I was lost and vulnerable, and I drifted for a while.  At sixteen I took the wrong path and fell into some seriously bad company.  I found myself in an underground world of gangsters, crime, and drugs, from which I couldn’t escape.  This was the darkest time of my life.  My self-esteem was low, and I lost my sense of self.  I suffered with depression and turned to alcohol to numb the pain.  After seven years of abuse, and just about surviving, I had an epiphany.  I found the strength to get out.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I was alive.  One of my friends didn’t make it.  She died of a heroin overdose.  Maybe there was a guardian angel helping me – no one else was.  Deep inside, I knew I deserved better.  This is when I decided to turn my life around.  I found singing again, or maybe it found me. 

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At twenty-three I met a singer, who invited me to work with him in the clubs.  I moved into a house share and got a job as a waitress in a workman’s cafe.  I was in a much better place, but I was suffering from trauma and couldn’t find inner peace.  I tried meditation, which helped, but I struggled to put my demons to rest, and I was still looking for love in all the wrong places.  A friend introduced me to therapy.  I had broken down and told him I couldn’t cope with life anymore. 

I needed help and ended up staying in therapy for seven years.  Understanding myself and becoming less self-destructive didn’t happen overnight, but gradually things did turn around for me.

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I took singing lessons.  I went to auditions.  I joined a band.  I joined another band – or three.  I grew frustrated with the London pub circuit to nowhere, so I ran off to Los Angeles.  Okay, so I’m being a little harsh on the London pub scene.  In truth, maybe I was trying to leave my past behind.  Anyway, Los Angeles can be a scary place when you don’t know anyone.  Lucky for me, I was used to surviving.  There were times when I had no money, no food, and I slept on the beach.  I met people along the way, and I would end up staying with some of them.  I had more good experiences than bad, but I was still attracting negative company.  There were a few close shaves.  Then my visa ran out.  I had no choice but to return to London. 

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So, I was back.  I auditioned for songwriter Tim Devereaux.  Tim’s family has a distinguished background in music and show business.  We’d met before and he knew about my struggles.  It was good news.  This turned into the lasting working relationship I’d been hoping for.  Life became a lot more doable, and I began writing myself.

I must give mention and special thanks to my executive producer, Peter Sackmann, for finding me, believing in me, and supporting me on this journey.  And thank you God, for all the second chances.  “Never give up”, they say.

Suzanne

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