When I was a young teenager, [I was] very into sports. My knees were hurting because I was growing so fast. I was an optimistic, probably slightly insecure, kid. But I think I was a pretty nice guy. I probably identified as an athlete. Yeah, I loved singing but it was just something I did – nobody at school knew that I was really a singer.
My older brother was like a comedian. And people at school would always go to him to laugh. But there was something about me, people would come to me with their problems like I was a counsellor. Even my mother, when I was a very young person, about 10 years old, would ask me about life advice. She’d say, what do you think about this Gregory? And she was always amazed by my very reasonable answers. She’d say, but how did you come up with these things? So she called me an old soul. I think empathy, a deep empathy, is one thing that I’m certain that I have, and it has affected my music and the way I walk through life. I think people can sense that I have the ability to feel what it is that they’re going through, whether it’s a person who’s going through some really difficult times, or somebody who just tripped and fell. I think it’s an awful thing to laugh at somebody who’s fallen down on the ground. I see people do it all the time. I like to put myself in other people’s shoes and that’s definitely affected my songwriting.
At 16 I was already harvesting moments from my life to put them into my songwriting. I still do this. One of the songs on my new record is called Mister Holland. Mister Holland is actually a love song to the father of the girl that I wanted to date in high school. It’s a song to him, telling him that I’m thankful to him for treating me like a normal guy, for showing me respect and allowing me into his home and just treating me like a normal teenager. The reality of what happened is that the father opened the door, called me a very, very bad name, and then told me to get away from his house. And told me never to see his daughter and if I did some harm would come to me. That is what really happened. But the magic of music is that we can go back into our history and rewrite it. And so in the song I’m thanking Mister Holland for inviting me into his home, and not having a problem with the colour of my skin.
Much of my character came from my mother and the places she took us [Porter has described his father as being ‘largely absent’ from his life]. She was a fearless woman. She was a minister and her congregation was from the roughest, toughest neighbourhood you can think of. So we were with her, we went into abandoned buildings and drug houses, and strange dark hotels. She was trying to help people – mostly children. Many times she would give my clothes away. If she saw a child who didn’t have clothes for school she would give them mine. Sometimes it would make me feel upset. But I think it caused me to develop an automatic empathy. If somebody is cold you give that person a jacket, that’s what I’m saying. She gave me this golden rule; treat people the way you want to be treated.
When I lost my mother [to cancer, when he was 21] – and this is not a lie or something I’m just saying because I’m doing a beautiful interview – I went straight to music. I hear people say when they’re going through some difficult times they turn to some artificial substance, some drug to make them feel some warmth. Music releases endorphins in my brain and makes me feel better. I remember when she was ill going onstage and singing Moon River. And people thought I was thinking about this sweet song in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But really, the emotion I was putting into the song was about the love that I had from my mother. I knew her health was failing. I knew I wouldn’t have her long.
