#Cyndi Lauper on New Documentary, LGBTQ Fans and Not Loving Her First Recording of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun”: “It Was Like Yawn and Boring”

“Girls Just Want to Have Fun” is one of Cyndi Lauper’s signature songs, but the iconic singer admits when she first recorded the track written by Robert Hazard, she thought: “It was like yawn and boring.”

“It wasn’t right for me. I sang his version. I sucked,” Lauper tells The Hollywood Reporter. “It was written by a guy and he was writing, ‘Hey, we’re lucky. They want to have fun. Here I am.’ And it wasn’t that way for me because I’m a woman. I’m not a man. And that would be a problem.”

But the budding singer did what she does best — takes matters in her own hands and got creative — flipping the song so it fit for her persona. And it became an international hit — one that is still recognizable 40 years after its release.

The story of “Girls” is one of many the Grammy, Emmy and Tony-winning star tells in her new documentary, Let the Canary Sing, which premieres Wednesday night at the Tribeca Festival. It was directed by Emmy-nominated documentarian Alison Ellwood.

In an interview with THR, Lauper discusses her documentary, finding her voice as a young singer and how her hit “True Colors” connected to the LGBTQ community.

How did you re-work “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” to make it fit for you?

Rehearse like a band, tear the stuff apart, put it back together, use the wonderful modern sounds that were coming out of Sheffield, that were coming out of England, that were coming out of Canada. That big gated snare drum, the sound of the street, the new bebop stuff that was happening, the kids that were dancing on the cardboard slack, that sound, that drum, that aided snare, that big trashy drum. How could you ignore that? That had to be in the music. It was part of the environment.

We were making music that, when you listened to it, you would know what it felt like in the ’80s, so that’s why it had to have those sounds, that gated snare. And I knew that in different keys, my voice sounded completely different, because I was the arranger with John Turi on the last band I was in, Blue Angel. So I knew how to do it. I knew how to arrange it to make it different.

I made them go key after key after key. They wanted to kill me. They didn’t see it coming.

And then I said to them, I told Rob [Hazard], “Do me a favor. Play it reggae. Play it like a reggae song, but play the chords.” And Eric [Bazilian], I literally said, “Can you play any Motown riff and adjust it to the song, and play the drums and ignore me. Just ignore everybody, and stick to what you do, and then all of a sudden you’ll hear it. I promise.”

Because I used to go about that way in other music that I couldn’t figure out, and I’d say, “Oh, it could go with this, this, and this.” It’s like cooking. You never know there’s too much pepper until you taste it, right?

That’s what we did. And thinking we were doing something reggae, we actually made the mistake; or the wisdom, not mistake. It was a good thing. We invited [Jamaican duo] Sly & Robbie to play on “Girls,” and guess what? They didn’t feel it, and you know why? Because it wasn’t reggae. It had influences of reggae, certainly from me, from what I was singing, from the phrasing, but I was also singing all the R&B olds from ’50s like Shirley & Lee. And the good thing is that it was in the key of a trumpet, and we were actually trumpeting an idea that everyone, including girls could have fun. Because if girls were having too much fun, we were labeled whores, so this was a new idea and a new take. And I got my mother to be in the video, and I got every one of my friends who looked like New York to be in a video with music that was coming out in New York, so it matched.

There’s a lot of diversity in the music video and you’ve talked about wanting to be sure every little girl felt seen when watching it…

“Why?” That’s what I kept telling them. “Why not? Why?” If you walked around in New York, that’s what you saw. You heard The Specials … it was rock ‘n’ roll and you wanted to see everybody. For goodness sake, Little Richard invented rock ‘n’ roll.

He invented that singing style and that is rock ‘n’ roll. The Beatles used it, Elvis used it, it came out of the Black church. How can you ignore that? I got tired of watching MTV with the Black people here and the white people there and the Spanish people there. And I was like, “What the fuck? I live in New York, we’re all mad. What is happening here?”

So I said, “We’re doing a New York video, everybody, if you don’t mind,” and everybody got on board. That was the great thing. They were all into it and we had fun.

What made you want to do a documentary at this point in your career?

My agent, my manager, my lawyer. (Laughs.) This was a perfect vehicle, that’s all. 

I just think a documentary sometimes helps show people how, because everybody starts out with somebody saying, “What are you going to do that for? Don’t do that. Get a real job.” Or maybe they don’t say that anymore. I don’t know. Maybe parents don’t say that. But it’s so amazing when you get to a point in your life where, when you go to the family gathering, and everybody used to question you, and by the end, they want to know what you’re doing and you try and explain, and they always say, “Well, good luck with your work.”

So instead of being disheartened, it’s good to learn about someone else and see how they made their good steps and bad steps. Eventually you get to where you’re supposed to be anyway, and certain people come into your life that change it and help you in ways you didn’t think they could.

Were you involved in the making of this documentary or did you allow production to tell your story?

No. The only thing I got involved with, you know me, sitting in front of the camera, I’m looking at the lighting, “Look, I know this is a serious piece and hey, did you read Wuthering Heights? And remember that part with Penistone Crag, where they go up on the Crag? I would like not to look like Penistone Crag. Can we just do this to make it a little more attractive?”

That’s about all I ever do. And the camera angle, “Why do you want that camera angle when it’s just about the worst camera angle on me I have ever seen? Why do you want to do that? Is it a documentary or is it a—”, nevermind.

And let me tell you — if you are really involved in your documentary, it’s no longer a documentary. Yeah, it’s not. All they wanted from me was, I had to go in and get pictures and pull up old things and show them different work. Or if I had this on film or that. And, “Oh, let me go to the media locker. Oh, I haven’t been here for a long time. Holy cow. What’s that?” Things like that.

My mom passed away recently and I had to go through all the stuff to try and find what was what, basically.

What was it like watching the documentary back? 

I watched it in the early stages, so that the pictures they were showing of [the band] Flyer were actually Flyer and Blue Angel.

I always feel sometimes that when I read these things or watch these things, like the editor edited my book and John Turi called me up and he said, “That’s not how it happened.” I said, “I didn’t read it over and over again. I’m so sorry. I think it was edited and the facts would change to protect the ignorant. I’m sorry.” I can only watch it for that, just make the facts straight. “This is what happened. This is the truth. That’s not.” That’s all.

But [Alison Ellwood] did it, not me. She wanted to call it Let the Canary Sing. This was a big thing for her, so I said, “Fine.” I knew it was a big thing, I guess, for me too, when you think about it, because a guy (former manager) wanted me not to ever sing again. That wasn’t going to happen, come hell or high water.

And I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to make a business deal and make money, so then I just went bankrupt. That was it. End of story.

That’s when the judge said, he just banged the gavel and said, “Let the canary sing.” And the thing is, I was always a fan of Billie Holiday and they tried to stop Billie from singing too, and a judge deemed that, like he said, “Let the canary sing.” He wanted her to be able to sing, and that’s what he said when he hit the gavel for her.

That story has repeated for some contemporary artists, including Megan Thee Stallion and Raye. What helped you get past it and were you ever worried that you weren’t going to be able to sing again?

No. Because I knew what my mission on this planet was. And that was never going to change. Ever. Ever.

But the odd thing is that there’s always going to be gatekeepers in this world, and there’s always going to be a brick wall that you have to figure out how to get around. But let me tell you something — there is always a way around. Every step we take towards it or around it is part of our journey, and sometimes a brick wall is not the end. It’s just a brick wall.

I was very lucky to have people in my life that influenced me and helped me around a lot.

And I never wanted to be a puppet. A lot of women back then, if you had a big voice, “Shut up and sing,” and that was not going to happen here. When I sang, it was to be free. I didn’t want to be a caged bird, and eventually, I just wanted to sing the rhythm of my own speech, even if I wrote with someone else. I don’t mind, I love to collaborate. My first writing was collaborating with my sister when I was 10. 

Your mom was musically inclined and she was a big influence on you. Did you ever have conversations with her about her dreams of singing professionally?

No. When she was young, she wanted to go to a music school. She had a scholarship. When she graduated eighth grade, she could have gone into a music high school in Manhattan, but because she was a girl, my grandfather, who came from Sicily, said, “You can’t go to New York to go to school. Only whores go to New York to go to school.” And that is what affected me. And that’s why I have to fight for women’s rights, because there are women still living, people putting braces on the brain, not living a full happy life with joy.

What was it like reading letters from your LGBTQ fans who resonated with your song “True Colors”?

I was pregnant at the time and the internet was like Star Trek and I finally got on and I started reading letters from people. After a while, it was one after the other, after the other, about how people were disenfranchised from their families, their friends and their jobs, and that they were suicidal, but when they heard “True Colors,” it gave them hope and changed the trajectory of their life.

And I called (my sister) Ellen and I said, “Listen, Ellen,” and I read her some of that and I said, “We got to do something about this. When the time comes, Ellen, we got to do it.” And she said she would. 

I’ll never forget, the best Pride was in ’94, and then again in 2000, just before the World Trade Center blew up. We were on a firetruck, and Ellen was there, my mother was there, and the guys in the little tiny red swimming suits dancing on. I guess they were on a lot of ecstasy, I have no idea.

We were celebrating it as a family: me, Ellen and my mother, and that was an amazing thing. Because it was important to her and it was important to me, and my mother always said, she told me this once, because I was so odd, and people used to throw stones at me. Imagine? I was stoned. People threw stones at me because of what I was wearing.

Really?

Yeah, yeah. I came back from college in those vintage big clothing things.

So she told me, “No matter what, even if you come riding back home on a horse, you’re still my kids.” So that was a lot to tell your kids.

You’re only missing the Oscar to reach EGOT status. Is it a goal for you?

Well, it would be nice. I don’t know how I would do that, but you know, you never know.

I think through your songwriting or scoring of a film.

Well, we’ll see what happens. If it’s a wonderful film, and you have your heart in it, and you understand everything about it, the pain or the joy, then that’s easy to write for, and it makes it more satisfying. I don’t just want to have something, I want to make something that effects change for the better in the world.