Ellen Foley’s voice launched a million dashboard singalongs. Just don’t expect her to get nostalgic about it.
“I’ve sung ‘Heaven Can Wait’ since 1977,” she tells me. “But the meaning has changed. Now it’s about mortality. Hope. It’s not the same girl belting it out on a cabaret stage.” It’s the kind of comment Foley delivers casually, like she’s brushing lint off a leather jacket. She’s not here to relive the past—she’s just dragging it along behind her, like a duffel bag full of flame emojis.
Fighting Words, her new album with longtime collaborator Paul Foglino, is full of the same unshakable attitude. “He was this Americana guy,” she says. “I was a rock artist. But somehow we figured it out. Now we’re making rock and roll.” Their collaboration spans years and finally crystallized on Fighting Words, a record that finds Foley both reflective and razor-sharp.
Case in point: the biting “I’m Just Happy to Be Here,” which isn’t exactly what it sounds like. “That’s sarcasm,” she laughs. “Everybody wants you to be grateful just for still being alive. But I’ve still got something to say.”
The album also sees Foley teaming up with Carla DeVito—yes, that Carla DeVito, the face lip-syncing her vocals in the Bat Out of Hell video. “We didn’t know each other then,” Foley says. “There was tension. But now, we’re friends. Real ones. It goes way beyond Meat Loaf.”
And speaking of Meat Loaf: she closes the record with her own take on “Heaven Can Wait,” a song she’s claimed in every venue but on tape—until now. “It feels like Jim,” she says, referring to the late Jim Steinman, who wrote the bulk of Meat's songs. “That song’s been with me so long, and I love how I sound on it. I don’t mean to brag, but it fits me like a glove.”
Of course, this isn’t her first unexpected collaboration. Forty years ago, Foley teamed up with a little band called The Clash to make Spirit of St. Louis. “I always joke that I’m the only person who’s sung with both Meat Loaf and The Clash,” she says. “They were writing songs for Joe Strummer, and suddenly I show up needing the key changed. Mick Jones was like, ‘What do you mean, key?’”
The album became one of the strangest entries in the Clash-adjacent canon, with Foley fronting the band through a swirl of theatrical post-punk. “It was a culture clash, pun intended,” she admits. “But they had fun. And I had to fight to be the focal point. But I think it worked.”
And don’t get her started on Another Breath, her “forgotten stepchild” of a third album. “People should go back to that one,” she says. “There’s some really beautiful stuff on it.” She’s not wrong—“Nightline” still grooves like a late-night confessional too good for the Top 40.
But she’s not waiting around for rediscovery. Foley’s too busy still being a badass. “Give it everything you’ve got,” she says of her vocal style.
After all, this is a woman who turned down time, outlasted the 'Loaf, and led The Clash. She’s not just happy to be here. She earned it.
Listen to the interview above and then check out the videos below.
