‘I had the Beatles’ Indian period in mind’: how Natasha Bedingfield made Unwritten
Natasha Bedingfield, singer, songwriter
My brother Daniel had three No 1s at the start of the noughties. In every interview, bless him, he’d go: “Listen to my sister – she’s great too!” It helped me get a foot in the door. I got a record deal by singing over some demos I’d done. “We don’t like your songs,” the guy said, “but we like you.”
I was whisked off to Los Angeles to work with songwriting mentors, which upped my game but meant I missed my younger brother Joshua’s 14th birthday. I hadn’t had a moment to send him a gift, so I decided to write him a song. Unwritten was written with a 14-year-old in mind.
At that age, you’re desperate to be taken seriously but at the same time everyone is asking what you’re going to do. There’s this huge pressure to map out your future. Unwritten started as a poem. Then I found the right songwriter in Danielle Brisebois – who’d had amazing experiences as a child actor and in the band New Radicals. She helped me with the idea that every child is a blank page and can write their own future.
We recorded it in Venice Beach. For the verse, I had the Beatles’ Indian period in my mind. The gospel choir section is rooted in my childhood: my family were lucky enough to be invited into an amazing African-Caribbean church in London run by the Wade brothers, who encouraged children to do music. I wanted a real choir for Unwritten but my sister Nikola was in LA visiting at that time, so with my friend Jessi Collins we just layered up the vocals.
Unwritten went Top 10 initially. It wasn’t my biggest hit at the time but it’s been a grower, used to motivate sports teams and such. Last year, the director Will Gluck wrote it into the script of the romcom Anyone But You as the character Ben’s “serenity song”. That started a TikTok phenomenon. I never expected it to go back into the Top 20 in its 20th anniversary year, but it’s a very positive song, so maybe you don’t get sick of it.
Danielle Brisebois, songwriter, co-producer
When I was growing up, I took dance lessons at a place across the street from the Brill Building in Manhattan. I would listen through the doors, trying to hear how they wrote all those great songs. Then, when I was a young girl in the original production of Annie on Broadway, I would lie under the piano as Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin used it to write songs for the musical. So I got to witness the creation of the songs Maybe and Easy Street. I was hooked.
I’d been writing for a good while when I met Natasha. She lived on my couch for a few months. Then one day, Wayne Rodrigues, the songwriter who co-produced Unwritten, came over and came up with the drum groove – and it just hit me. For ages, I’d wanted to write a song about how you never know what to expect from life. I’d had three different careers. I’d gone from having a ton of money to being broke and living in a garage when I was 20. I never saw Natasha’s poem for her brother but I did see the word “unwritten” on her computer. As soon as I started singing the melody, the whole thing started rolling. Writing songs with Natasha was always like a tennis match – back and forth. It was such an exciting time.
For the chorus, I remembered a day when I didn’t have enough money to take the bus and it started teeming with rain. But I thought I was the lucky one because all these people in taxis were missing out on the experience of feeling rainfall on their skin. For the intro, I hummed a quirky, almost Irish drinking tune riff and my husband, Nick Lashley, played it on his acoustic guitar. The take on the record is actually him learning it – the microphone was in the wrong place, but it sounded perfect. Similarly, Natasha’s big note at the end of the gospel section is from the demo. “We’re not rerecording it,” I said. “It’s not quite perfect, but it has the magic!”
I co-produced it at a time when there were few female producers around. Natasha sings Unwritten so believably because the song is her. It’s about grabbing the future without fear. It’s so gratifying that it’s played at graduation ceremonies and such. My bandmate Gregg Alexander originally wrote Murder on the Dancefloor for New Radicals, but gave it to Sophie Ellis-Bextor. Now both our songs are having a viral global rebirth after two decades. What are the odds on that?
• Anyone But You is in cinemas now. Unwritten is approaching 700m plays on Spotify
