When I come out of my dressing room, I go to my heart and say a little prayer and go out on stage. There I am, coming to lift you up and to motivate you. I want to bring joy. It's gospel, and gospel is the truth. It's what I do. I'm going to bring you the truth and lift up your spirit.
I'm singing these songs to inspire you, to keep you going, to lift you up and give you a reason to get up in the morning.
My high-school a cappella teacher would embarrass me in front of the choir. 'Mavis, you're in the basement. Mavis, you're singing with the boys.' I said, 'Mr. Finch, my voice isn't soprano. I can't sing up there with the girls.' So I just got out of the choir.
I won't wear rings and jewelry on the stage because I don't want you looking at my hands. I want you hearing what I'm saying.
I never sang for a Grammy, for money, for fame. That's my whole purpose for singing: for people, for the fans.
We've had a great change. Dr King saw to that. I was so grateful to see the 'colored only' signs come off the water fountains and bathrooms in the south. But the struggle lives on.
I've got to sing for Pops; I've got to keep my father's legacy alive because he started all of this. So I started calling people, and nobody would give me a chance, but I didn't let that stop me. I took money out the bank and I started making me a record, and I did it in this guy's basement.
I don't know which way I'm going. My next CD might be country, might be Dylan, might be Mick Jagger. I don't know. I love a challenge.
I get my voice from my mother's side of the family. My mother and my grandmother both had strong voices.
The kids today have these fresh faces. It's like they're on pins and needles, waiting to see what I'm going to do. They've never seen me. In the 1960s, those were hippies. They were wired up already. The kids today know me because I've worked with Jeff Tweedy and other young producers.