Saying Petula Clark has lived an international life is truly an understatement. 

The two-time Grammy winner was born in England in 1932. When she was 29, she married Frenchman Claude Wolff and moved to Paris. And while her career has kept her constantly on the go, the couple has called Geneva, Switzerland, home for five decades. 

One byproduct of all this jet-setting? Their three adult children all sound nothing like one another. 

“I suppose it’s true,” the singer says with a giggle, on the phone at her Swiss apartment. “Patrick’s been living in America, and he’s picked up the accent. When I call him, he says, ‘Hi, Mom’ — ‘Mom!?’“ she says, drawing out the word with mock horror. “What is that? ‘Mahhmm?'” 

Then there are her daughters. 

“Barra, our first daughter, has been living in America but she sounds a little bit more English,” she says. “And Kate, I don’t know what her accent is, but it’s the cutest thing: It’s a little bit French, a little bit Swedish.” 

Clark’s accent, by the way, still sounds as cheerfully British as it did back in the ‘60s, when she first captivated American audiences. She was the most popular female artist to emerge during the British musical invasion, creating a long string of now-classic hit records that have a style all their own.  

Beyond ‘Downtown’ 

“Downtown,” of course, was the first and the most famous. With its hummable melody and Clark’s reassuring vocals, you really do believe the lights are much brighter there, for three minutes at least.

That 1964 recording set the pattern for a series of hits that followed. Clark usually worked with writer-producer Tony Hatch; in terms of creating great radio hits, their partnership rivaled Dionne Warwick’s pairing with Burt Bacharach. “I Know a Place,” “I Couldn’t Live Without Your Love,” “A Sign of the Times,” “Don’t Sleep in the Subway” — Clark’s records have an instantly identifiable sound that blends the energy and exuberance of rock and roll with a brassy, Broadway-style sophistication.

Still, Clark emphasizes, don’t go to her concert expecting her to skip out on stage like a ’60s dolly bird who has just flown in from Carnaby Street. Her live show is about much more than that. 

“It’s where I am now,” she says. “I have these fantastic songs, and I still enjoy singing them, just as much or even more than I did then. Perhaps I don’t sing them the way I did, but you wouldn’t expect that. I’m not stuck in an era. The idea of going onstage and having it be about nostalgia? I just couldn’t do it.”

She usually includes most of her American hits, plus other songs from her wide-ranging career. Sometimes audiences can underestimate the sheer vastness of Clark’s work, which is pretty imposing. At the height of her U.S. fame, for instance, she starred opposite Fred Astaire in the 1968 film version of “Finian’s Rainbow;” a year later, she appeared in “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” with Peter O’Toole. 

In the ’90s, she earned rave reviews starring on Broadway in the musical “Blood Brothers.” Once that show ended, she played Norma Desmond in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Sunset Boulevard” in London’s West End and on the U.S. tour. She ultimately played the role on stage longer than any other actress.

Additionally, she has carved out a whole other career singing in French, with concerts and recordings targeted specifically toward that audience. And she’s still got sentimental fans in England who remember her as a child star whose optimistic nature helped the country get through World War II. 

It’s one of the most beguiling aspects of her career: A U.S. audience views her entirely differently than a British one, while French fans are another thing altogether. 

“I find it all rather agreeable,” she says, giggling again. “They’re all different aspects. It’s all part of me. Instead of just concentrating on one part, I can be all these things. The French side is very different to the English side, and the English side is very different to the American side. I find that quite interesting.”

Does she have a preference? 

“This will sound like I’m having one on you, but American audiences bring something out in me that no other nationality can bring out,” she says. “I can’t quite figure out why that is, but in America, I feel the most ‘me,’ if that makes any sense.”

Passage of time

Clark celebrated her 86th birthday this month, but she says she’s never been particularly reflective. Even interviews aren’t high on her list of things to do, she cracks. 

“I try to stay away from the subject of me as much I can,” she says. “I’m too busy being me.”

 That’s probably one reason why she finds nostalgia such a turnoff. 

“I’m not one of those people who all the time rummage around in their past and find stories,” she muses. “Not very long ago I went back to Wales, where I spent a lot of my childhood, and it’s almost not there anymore. It’s a strange thing looking back. Of course, our past is what makes us who we are, but I don’t dwell on it, frankly.” 

That unsentimental nature also means she isn’t overly keen about preserving her life story as a book. 

“I’ve been asked I can’t tell you how many times to write a book,” she says. “Frankly, the idea of sitting around for a couple of years going back through my life … I can’t think of anything more tedious, to be honest.” 

That’s not to say she hasn’t tried. 

“I’d written about 10 pages once, and then I thought, ‘Well, that’s nothing! I’ll be here forever!’ I need a really good co-writer. I thought the Keith Richards book was wonderful, and he had a really good writer (James Fox). That’s what you need: Somebody who’s not a fan and who is a serious writer.” 

The R-word

During conversation, one topic naturally bubbles up. She’s been singing and performing since she was a child. Does she ever think about slowing down or stopping? 

“Oh, the R-word,” she says coyly. “No, certainly not yet. If I find my voice is not up to scratch anymore or if people don’t want to come see anymore, well, those are good reasons. But those haven’t happened. I’m enjoying myself and the audience doesn’t seem to mind, you know?” 

Still, she admits, the passage of time can catch her off-guard. 

“I can’t quite believe I’ve been doing this for so long,” she says. “I don’t have much of a feeling about time passing. I mean, I realize it’s passing. I see my kids growing up, and I see other people’s kids growing up. But I don’t feel any different, personally.”

One reason could be that she simply loves music too much. You hear about artists who lose their passion. But not Clark. She loves to write; last year’s “Living for Today” album features a whopping nine new Clark compositions. 

It’s not unusual for her. She wrote a lot in the ’60s: The Vogues took her “You’re the One” into the Top 5 in 1965, and her albums were filled with songwriting efforts like “Now That You’ve Gone” (covered by Johnny Mathis) and the searing “Just Say Goodbye.” Still, in typical Clark fashion, she doesn’t romanticize her efforts. 

“Nowadays, my writing is very personal,” she says, saying her ’60s tunes “were sort of like B-sides. They were sort of dramatic songs and, of course, no one was ever going to play them on the radio. They didn’t want to hear dramatic; they wanted ‘Don’t Sleep in the Subway.’ “

If writing fills one part of her soul, the act of performing in front of an audience is another piece. After all these years, it’s never lost its hold.

“I love singing,” she says. “There’s nothing quite like that something that happens between an audience and performer. It’s like communion.”

Reach the reporter at [email protected] or 602-444-8849. Twitter.com/randy_cordova.

Petula Clark

When: 8 p.m. Friday, Nov. 30. 

Where: Celebrity Theatre, 440 N. 32nd St., Phoenix. 

Admission: $59-$101.50. 

Details: 602-267-1600, celebritytheatre.com. 

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