Your performance on Later has created quite a buzz. Sandie Shaw singled you out for praise; did you get to meet her?

I didn't actually, no. I think people's schedules are so intense they just disappear. I went to the bar where all the punters go; I don't think it was for the proper famous people!

John Prescott – of all people – wrote an article for The Guardian the next day, praising you to the heavens. I think you've inspired him to take up music journalism.

He's after your job! He was on Twitter, and the music editor of The Guardian said: "Prezza, I can make you the next Lester Bangs. What do you reckon, 400 words?" And Prezza went: "OK, I'll have a go." It was a very good piece; very interesting. It's quite funny, isn't it, how you can just be watching telly of an evening, and then tweet something, and then the next minute you're a music journalist.

Are you prepared for all this attention?

No, I'm not thin enough yet! I need six more months. I need to run around and lose a few more pounds. Apart from that, I am ready! (Laughs)

You've been working for this moment for a very long time. For a lot of that time, it was like bashing your head against a wall. How did you maintain your resolve?

It got to the point where I was getting quite Zen. If ever it all dissolved, and I ended up cleaning toilets again, I think I could be Zen about it. We all play an equal role in life, and I don't think it matters what we do for our jobs.

How did things start coming together? Was there a particular turning point?

When I met (producer) Steve Brown, that was when I had a chance. He was a very successful man; a rich, benevolent man. He does TV and comedy and stuff like that. But because he'd started off in bands, before he went pro, he related to me. He never had a shot at it, and so he gave me a chance. He had the money, and he just put everything on his pad.

When you started collaborating, did that steer you in a particular musical direction, towards these lushly-orchestrated love ballads?

I always wanted them to be like that, but I could never realise them. My love of music came from movie musicals and old-fashioned songwriters like Irving Berlin, Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer, George Gershwin, Rodgers and Hammerstein. So the music always wanted to be grand and lush.

Had you heard the arrangements in your head?

Yeah, I did. But I never dreamed they would be like that. The only way was to do harmonies: just going "ba-ba-ba" and "la-la-la" and pretending. I couldn't have the trumpets, the orchestra, the brass, so I would do all these little harmonies.

To what extent are your songs autobiographical?

Oh, I think they all are. Sometimes fiction tells a story better than the truth. So a lot of them are stories, but they're stories that are embedded in the truth. [The new single] Aretha, for example, is a story, but there are loads of true elements in it. And I think it tells a lot of people's stories.

Your recent single Slow is quite intriguing. You might think it was just a sweet song about being in love – but there's a twist in its tail. By the end, you're thinking: oh hang on, it's changed, he doesn't want this!

(Laughs) Well, they never do! And this is the thing. It's not that he doesn't want it, it's just that in the beginning of a relationship, men desperately want the female not to overdo it. Like saying "I love you" too quickly, stuff like that.

It's interesting what you've done with the chorus. ("Then they say slow; slow this right down.") Who is "they"?

They're the angels. I completely, 100%, believe in angels. Angels are in all my songs. You can hear them. You'll hear the "they" in all the songs. Their voices are all there. And you think: where are they coming from? And they're not coming from me; they're angels. I know this sounds a bit funny!