Eve Barlow

There’s a crackly tapping noise coming from David Byrne’s line. “Hello, can you hear me?” repeats the New Yorker over the phone. It sounds like Morse code or some kind of beat, and, to me, it’s a fittingly weird introduction to a guy who has pushed the rock envelope since the 1970s. “I’m not nostalgic at all,” the former Talking Heads frontman says when the connection clears and I ask about the CBGB days. “I don’t feel like there was any great era or golden moment. It all flows, one thing to another, and things weren’t better back then.” That ethos led to American Utopia, his first solo album since 2004, and it’s a mind-set that keeps him busy, taking him around the world and to four hometown gigs, starting this weekend at Panorama. “I got home around 1:30am last night,” he says, laughing, “which is very late for my bedtime.” Byrne has reason to be tired. For one thing, he’s in the midst of staging his most stunning live show since the mid-’80s. American Utopia was written two years prior to the most recent presidential election, but now, after Donald Trump, it feels like it was a premonition. “It’s somehow reflective of this moment we’re going through,” he admits. “I’m not advocating for a real utopia. It’s not a utopia of people running naked through the woods. Almost all utopias have failed; they get perverted.” Photograph: Shutterstock His use of utopia has more to do with the notion that we’re constantly striving to find our place. (Born in Scotland but living in Americ

ビョーク（Björk）のスケジュールはびっしり詰まり、彼女の時間を取れるのはチャットのみ、予約のわずか数時間後に取材が始まるほどの忙しさだ。いざやりとりを始めると、それはまるで巫女とチャネリングしているよう。それが、ビョークだ。 アイスランド出身アーティストのビョークは、40年にわたり、私たちの想像を超える新たなスタイルの音楽を作り続けてきた。9作品のソロアルバムと共に、多彩な感覚を統合し、マルチメディアを駆使した驚きのツアーも生み出した。一方で、非常に幅広い文化に目を向け、イヌイットの喉歌（のどうた）を継承するターニャ・タガックや、ナチュラリストのデイビッド・アッテンボロー、コメディ俳優のスティーヴ・クーガンら、あらゆる人たちとコラボレーションを行ってきた。 4月初旬にビョークと電話で話したとき、52歳のビョークは、アルバム『ユートピア』を引っさげたツアーのリハーサルに没頭していた。首都レイキャビークでツアーを開始し、今月には、ロンドンのハックニー地区ヴィクトリアパークで開催される『オール・ポインツ・イースト・フェスティバル』に登場する。 彼女にとって、ロンドンは特別な地だ。ビョークは、ソロ活動をしていた1990年代、ロンドンで暮らしており、クラーケンウェルのクラブ「トレード」などによく出没していた。ビョークは、「ロンドンにはたくさんの友人がいるので、いつも行くのが楽しみです」と語る。 −『ユートピア』発表から、6ヶ月が経ちました。このアルバムに対する思いに変化はありましたか。 ビョーク：今回のアルバムの性質上、あまり変化はありません。というのも、前回のアルバム『ヴァルニキュラ』は「傷心」がテーマでした。あのアルバムの曲に対しては、毎月感情が変化します。ですが『ユートピア』では、できる限りズームアウトしています。アルバムのテーマは、理想郷（ユートピア）の作り方を問いかけるものです。人間はみな、「人生がこうならいいな」という夢を持っていますが、現実は異なります。私たちは本当に不器用ですが、時々、正しく物事を行うことができます。そんな葛藤が『ユートピア』のテーマです。「どたばたスタイル」と言ってもいいですね。 −ユートピアのアイデアはどのように生まれたのですか。 ビョーク：私にとって、アルバム『ユートピア』は緊急事態を意味します。これはトランプの大統領選勝利への反応でした。トランプが何の対応もしない環境問題の数々が主な理由で、私は無力感を感じていました。私たちは今すぐ、私たちが何を求めるのかを明確にするべきだと思います。人類が物事に真剣に取り組み始めるのは、いつも重大なトラブルに陥ってからです。私たちは、素早い対処が必要な時代に生きているのです。私たちは、これからどう難題を乗り越えていくのかをはっきり示す必要があります。 −何か希望を感じた取り組みはありますか。例えば、大胆な銃規制を求めるデモ行進『マーチ・フォー・アワー・ライブズ（March For Our Lives）』には感動しましたか。 ビョーク：そうですね、間違いなく希望が持てる取り組みのひとつです。私がニューヨークに暮らしていた頃、私の娘は、（2012年に銃乱射事件が起き）人々が殺害されたサンディフック小学校から45分離れた学校に通っていました。アイスランドには軍隊がなく、暴力はなく、殺人はほとんどありません。だから、私にとってあの事件は恐ろしいものでした。私があの事件について話すと、人々は頭を左右に振り、「男子はどこまでも男子。諦めるしかないんだよ」と言って立ち去るのです。私には全く

A$AP Rocky is late. Two hours late, to be exact. Then, out of nowhere, he rolls up (literally) to our cover shoot on an electronic skateboard, which he uses to travel from the door of his Escalade to the studio floor, approximately 30 feet away. “I’m just a big kid,” he shrugs, exposing a full-on golden smile—made of real gold—beneath his Céline shades. As with any kid, it’s hard to stay mad at him. But he’s not really a kid. He’s a 26-year-old Harlem-bred rapper who’s headlining the Theater at Madison Square Garden September 22 with fellow headline-making MCs Tyler, the Creator—who was recently banned from entering the U.K.—Vince Staples and Danny Brown. The event tops off a huge four years, during which Rocky’s ascended from releasing a mixtape (2011’s online freebie Live.Love.A$AP) to signing a $3 million deal with Sony, dropping two No. 1 albums and collaborating with Skrillex, Lana Del Rey, Kanye West and, most recently, Rod Stewart on At.Long.Last.A$AP. (The record’s acronym, by the way, is a reference to Allah.) “You mind if I stay on my skateboard?” he asks politely, then glides around the tiny photo studio with my Dictaphone in his hand, like a New Age Don Draper conducting a meeting. Turns out he’s asking to stay on his skateboard for the whole interview. Yet the request isn’t annoying. His flawless charm could excuse almost anything—even the last-minute demand for herring to accommodate his pescatarianism. The fish remains untouched the entire time he’s here. Wher

Riding in a car from the airport to her home in Brooklyn, Maggie Gyllenhaal is telling me off. “How dare you!” she exclaims in a mock-British accent. “An English friend of mine told me that whenever any journalist asks me about turning 40, my answer should be that.” The 39-year-old actor is known for standing up both offscreen (she’s a renowned social activist, and she revealed to the press that two years ago she was deemed “too old” to play the love interest of a man 20 years her senior) and on: After a small role alongside her brother, Jake, in Donnie Darko, Gyllenhaal had her own breakthrough a year later in 2002’s Secretary and since then has played a variety of headstrong, progressive badasses, including ex-prisoner Sherry Swanson in Sherrybaby and businesswoman Nessa Stein in TV miniseries The Honourable Woman (a gig that won Gyllenhaal a Golden Globe). The New Yorker’s latest character is no different. In the highly anticipated HBO series The Deuce, created by The Wire’s David Simon and starring James Franco, producer-costar Gyllenhaal portrays Candy, a crafty Times Square prostitute in the ’70s navigating the early days of the porn industry. “It’s so hard to find realistic depictions of the female experience,” Gyllenhaal says, expressing a sort of admiration—or at least respect—for Candy, whom she dubs “an artist.” Maybe it’s the character’s fighting spirit. Besides, the actor herself has one that doesn’t show any signs of diminishing. “Some women who are a generation

Percebe-se que Romy Madley Croft se preocupa demais pela forma como fala da sua estrela pop favorita. Durante um concerto de Mariah Carey em Londres, há uns meses, Croft estava preocupada porque a diva estava a apoiar-se demasiado e a ser carregada nos seus dançarinos. “Estava a pensar para os meus botões: espero que ela se aguente em pé”, recorda, aterrada. “Estava mesmo nervosa. Até que subitamente ela se começou a mexer sozinha e percebi que estava tudo bem.” A guitarrista e vocalista é a mais engraçada do grupo. O baixista e vocalista Oliver Sim tem carisma para dar e vender, enquanto o mago da produção Jamie Smith (vulgo Jamie xx) está quase sempre calado, a comer amêndoas e a descrever “coisas” como “boas” ou “mesmo boas”. Mas há muito do que falar: a digressão mundial da banda passa pelo NOS Alive na sexta-feira, para já não dizer nada dessa inversão de marcha luminosa que é o terceiro álbum, com o grupo em pico de forma. O que tem muito que se lhe diga, dado que a banda se tornou muito popular logo com o primeiro disco. O trio cresceu junto em Londres: Croft e Sim conheceram-se com três anos e conheceram Smith aos 11. Os primeiros e marcantes discos, xx (2009) e Coexist (2012) são exercícios monocromáticos, de atmosferas esparsas, feitos por jovens cabisbaixos que foram exaltados por gente como Drake e Rihanna. O aguardado terceiro álbum, I See You, lançado em Janeiro, muda as regras do jogo e avança por estrada de tijolos amarelos rumo a uma electrónica tecnicolor. E

Future walks into his photo shoot with the weight of the future on his shoulders—literally. His toddler son, Future Jr., is slung over his back, while his older son, Prince, is carried in his other arm. There are two nannies in the entourage; one is a gray-haired woman with a fearsome tattoo on her arm. Future’s arms are also heavily decorated. At six feet two, the man born Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn is physically overpowering, strolling around the L.A. studio like a lion taking charge of his pride. Future’s career is as mammoth as his frame. This month, the Atlanta native headlines Brooklyn's Barclays Center, a venue homegrown rappers would kill to conquer, one that’s previously hosted the likes of Justin Timberlake and the Rolling Stones. When he released not one but two records a week apart earlier this year (his fifth and sixth LPs, Future and HNDRXX), the trap king became the first artist to debut two albums in consecutive weeks at No. 1. Today marks another milestone. His rags-to-riches tale “Mask Off” just went platinum. And a little shy of a year ago—a lifetime in this rapper’s career trajectory—he became one half of the highest-grossing hip-hop tour of all time with Summer Sixteen, his coheadlining tour with Drake. “It’s a true blessing to be in this position,” he tells me. Must be. During the shoot, as he lays out a variety of medallions on gold chains, Prince and Future Jr. peer over his shoulder, touching the jewels. Clearly, the MC enjoys their company, even as he w

Life isn’t always like a movie in L.A. Usually you don’t find yourself driving beneath the HOLLYWOOD sign to discover a topless pop star running amok in nothing but underwear, her nipples covered by star-shaped pasties. Unless, that is, you’re hanging with Tove Lo. “I’m trying not to inhale,” the 29-year-old Swedish rebel giggles on a sunny Sunday morning, blowing cigarette smoke into our photographer’s lens. She isn’t supposed to be smoking. Lo isn’t “supposed” to be doing a lot of things—dubbing herself “the drug fairy” when we chat about partying and hitting number three on the Billboard Hot 100 with darkly honest and explicit material, to name two. But you just try and hold her back. Lo’s success has pretty much come out of nowhere—“fucking overnight,” to quote the singer. Despite having worked behind the scenes since her early twenties as a songwriter (credits include cuts for Icona Pop, Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” and her “Close” duet with Nick Jonas), she had never been the star. Her 2013 track “Habits (Stay High)” proved something of a sleeper hit, though, helping her gain buzz, with lyrics detailing her spiral into a haze of booze and drugs following a breakup. Her cocksure demeanor from the get-go was equal parts threatening and ABBA-bright sunny—an alluring blend she’s since perfected. “I would be naked all the time if it wasn’t too cold and didn’t make people uncomfortable,” she tells me, her septum ring glistening. Then there’s her multicolored palette

Life isn’t always like a movie in L.A. Usually you don’t find yourself driving beneath the HOLLYWOOD sign to discover a topless pop star running amok in nothing but underwear, her nipples covered by star-shaped pasties. Unless, that is, you’re hanging with Tove Lo. “I’m trying not to inhale,” the 29-year-old Swedish rebel giggles on a sunny Sunday morning, blowing cigarette smoke into our photographer’s lens. She isn’t supposed to be smoking. Lo isn’t “supposed” to be doing a lot of things—dubbing herself “the drug fairy” when we chat about partying and hitting number three on the Billboard Hot 100 with darkly honest and explicit material, to name two. But you just try and hold her back. Lo’s success has pretty much come out of nowhere—“fucking overnight,” to quote the singer. Despite having worked behind the scenes since her early twenties as a songwriter (credits include cuts for Icona Pop, Ellie Goulding’s “Love Me Like You Do” and her “Close” duet with Nick Jonas), she had never been the star. Her 2013 track “Habits (Stay High)” proved something of a sleeper hit, though, helping her gain buzz, with lyrics detailing her spiral into a haze of booze and drugs following a breakup. Her cocksure demeanor from the get-go was equal parts threatening and ABBA-bright sunny—an alluring blend she’s since perfected. “I would be naked all the time if it wasn’t too cold and didn’t make people uncomfortable,” she tells me, her septum ring glistening. Then there’s her multicolored palette

In an era before the internet, July 20, 2016, at the Troubadour in L.A. would have been the stuff of legend. No phones were allowed inside the venue at Alicia Keys’s one-off surprise gig, during which she debuted never-before-heard material with purpose. It chimed with events from two weeks earlier: the police shootings of African-American citizens Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, incidents that galvanized the movement Black Lives Matter. “And so it persists, like a bottomless kiss, an illusion of bliss, an illusion of bliss,” the soulful singer-songwriter, pianist and self-assured maverick spoke-sang over gutsy chords. A straight-shooting New Yorker, she threw her hands at her piano while standing upright. Her hair towered Cleopatra-style, her face was bare—revealing every bead of sweat—and she beamed and performed with carnal sensuality like her life depended upon it. This still-untitled track hit the hardest with lines like, “Sick of being judged, sick of being sick / I don’t wanna be a fallen angel.” Afterward, she turned to the transfixed crowd and said, “The world has lost its motherfucking mind.” I had goose bumps, even before I noticed Pharrell Williams was standing behind my shoulder. “I’ve decided I don’t want to sit at a piano anymore!” she tells me about the gig two months later over the phone from her car in NYC. “It’s constricting, you know? You have to stand to play this type of music.” The Troubadour performance was the first taste of a forthcoming, as-yet

Right now, Craig Robinson is in a studio behind Hollywood Boulevard with a rose clenched between his teeth like the goofy Casanova we’ve come to love onscreen. You know Robinson: He’s Darryl on The Office; he’s a one-man Black Eyed Peas tribute band in Hot Tub Time Machine; he’s the high henchman in Pineapple Express who gets shot and cries, “I got glass in my ass!”; he’s himself in the apocalyptic bromance This Is the End; he’s the guy who once sang a sexy version of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” while tickling the ivories on The Late Late Show with James Corden. Sporting a fresh-out-the-box white T-shirt and running his comb, which lives inside his inner jacket pocket, through an Afro preened to perfection, he’s a hazardously smooth operator in person. Yet he’s also quieter and calmer than the larger-than-life characters that have, until now, been his bread and butter. In a nutshell, Robinson’s gone serious on us in a big way in Morris from America, in which he plays the widowed father to a 13-year-old son. Applauded at Sundance Film Festival as a brilliant coming-of-age tale about two African-Americans’ attempts to integrate in Heidelberg, Germany—Robinson received a standing ovation for his performance—it’s set to launch the former stand-up joker into more dramatic roles. It’s also responsible for securing him a meaty part in the current season of the WTF-inducing, awesome TV thriller Mr. Robot. Not to suggest that the 44-year-old actor is basking in the exposure. “I just like

James Corden is attempting to break my fingers. “Trust me, this never fails. Put your fingers like this,” he instructs. Pushing my two index fingers toward each other so they make a bridge, Corden wraps his thumb and index around my finger bridge and yanks, trying to spread them apart. “Resist!” he says. “Push your fingers so I can’t break it!” We’re both British expats in America, and perhaps this makes me (foolishly) trust him. He asks me to conjure great things while trying to keep my digits together. “Think of the best gigs you’ve ever been to, times you’ve fallen in love, great kisses, time you’ve spent with your family, Christmases.… Look at how white my knuckles are!” My fingers don’t give way. “Right, now I want you to think of shit times, those worrying phone calls.…” And just like that, my index fingers separate. He smiles. I check my hands. They’re fine. “This is what I’ve learned: You’re infinitely stronger when you’re trying to find the positive,” he says and then takes a swig of his morning coffee. “I swear this isn’t some therapist bullshit.” And he’s right: It works. If you’ve ever watched Corden’s Late Late Show—you probably have: In the first year of the show, it had more than 1 billion views online—you’ll know he’s an emotional guy. And it all stems from his first love: the stage. This year’s host of the 70th Annual Tony Awards, held on June 12 at the Beacon Theatre, cut his teeth on the esteemed wings of London’s West End before coming to Broadway, first a

Andy Samberg walks in an Angeleno but sits down a New Yorker. “I’m slightly mortified that we’re in L.A., doing this by a pool,” he says, on a fine Sunday morning on the Sunset Tower Hotel rooftop. “It’s completely bogus.” Sunglasses come off and are replaced by Steve Jobs–esque glasses; the hoodie is tossed to one side to expose the comedian-actor in a plain white tee. “Coffee,” the former Saturday Night Live star says, groggily, to the waiter. The waiter is stumped. “Like, a latte, sir? We can do that with almond milk if you’d wish.” He accepts. Once the almond-milk latte is halfway done, it seems like he’d rather be sipping a dollar cup from a corner bodega in NYC. The West Village pad Samberg shared with his wife, pop classicist musician Joanna Newsom, is being rented out while the couple lives in a huge Hollywood Hills abode. He picks up my pot of black coffee and pours it into his latte. “I’m bailing on this almond milk! It’s done. Oh, God, I miss New York.” Samberg does have California to thank for some things, though. It’s where he was born, as David A.J. Samberg—he changed it to Andy at the age of five; “hippie mom was down,” he remarks—and where he met his funny BFFs Jorma Taccone and Akiva Schaffer in college. For the past 15 years, the trio’s been creating comedy rap as the Lonely Island while Samberg also does TV series (currently Brooklyn Nine-Nine), celebrity gigs (he hosted the 2015 Emmy Awards) and movie roles (Celeste and Jesse Forever). His seven-year stint

Danish punk band Iceage emerged in 2008 as teenagers with a reputation for aggressive music and raucous live shows. Now, after four years away, the band has released Beyondless, its most expansive record yet: a poppy post-punk statement that channels a jazzier, tauter and brighter style without sacrificing the group’s trademark intensity. Speaking from his Copenhagen home, Iceage’s notoriously cagey frontman Elias Bender Rønnenfelt breaks down five facts about the record. The album title, Beyondless, was inspired by Samuel Beckett.“It’s from the poem ‘Worstward Ho.’ I was reading it when I was writing the album’s lyrics. Beyondless became a moniker for this situation where something [can’t hold together beyond a certain point]—it can’t go any further. Even though it’s an incorrect word and it doesn’t appear in the dictionary, it was the perfect one to apply to me.” The more-traditional rock sound is new ground for Iceage.“I don’t think our music is innovative. But it’s more soulful than the other garbage that manages to pull off [the same] influences. As long as you have a feeling that making music is taking you somewhere new, somewhere dangerous, you let whatever’s guiding you run free. I need to feel like I’m standing on untrodden territory.” Making the album was stressful—and it sounds like it.“It was a whirlwind. You’re pushing yourself into a space between desperation and creative blossom. You constantly have to shoot off the hip and make decisions fast. Creating a stres

It's an act of disruption to be a woman celebrating her body for her own personal gain. On Three Futures, Torres a.k.a. Mackenzie Scott uses the idea of enjoying the physical self to inspire her latest wave of songwriting. The album is her anticipated return after the breakthrough success of 2015's Sprinter, an album that employed '90s alternative rock to soundtrack her experience growing up in southern Baptist environs. Three Futures, conversely, was inspired by books such as Ta-Nehisi Coates's Between the World and Me and albums like Portishead's Third. With its experimental, boundless sonic landscapes, it pushes her away from terms such as “singer-songwriter” into something way more vanguard. Produced again by Rob Ellis (PJ Harvey, Bat For Lashes), it's obsessed with being in the now. Before Torres takes the album on the road this fall, playing a run of shows that includes a gig at Music Hall Of Williamsburg, we caught up with her about New York pressures, Britney Spears covers and dancing. Sprinter was such a breakout album. What was your mindset going into this third LP?I wanted to have more fun performing. I have more kinetic energy than I used to so I wanted to make a record I could move to. The title Three Futures conjures a sliding doors idea of different courses your life could take. Are you fixated on who you're becoming now?That's interesting. I tend to be extremely future centric. I plan as much as I can which keeps me from being impulsive. But I also think that'

If you don’t know what III Points Music, Art and Technology Festival is by now, you’re fresh out of excuses. You might have been forgiven for slighting the Miami-born music festival in 2013, when its inaugural edition brought LCD Soundsystem’s James Murphy and nearly 50 other acts to bars and music venues across Wynwood. But four years later, III Points has elbowed its way to the forefront with a massive setup at Mana Wynwood Production Village, one-of-a-kind tech activations (last year saw a VR experience created in partnership with NASA) and major headliners. Case in point: The 2017 lineup features Gorillaz, Danny Brown, Bonobo and the xx, a British indie trio made up of Romy Madley Croft, Oliver Sim and Jamie Smith (who previously deejayed the festival as a solo artist under the name Jamie xx). We chatted up the band on the heels of its critically acclaimed new album, I See You, and talked about its fresh energetic sound, renewed connection and meeting halfway. This record sounds as if you’ve all gone outside yourselves. Is that a result of the band’s three-year hiatus? Jamie Smith: I was away a little longer than I’d expected, but I also felt like I wanted to make the most of it. Romy Madley Croft: I think this album would have been incredibly different without that. It was hard for us at times, but without [Jamie], it forced Oliver and me to become more self-sufficient as songwriters and to get better at producing our own demos. We got to know ourselves offstage a bit. W

The spirit of 1989’s second “summer of love,” led by rave-influenced U.K. rock bands like Happy Mondays and the Stone Roses, is alive and well in Australian trio Jagwar Ma. The band’s 2013 debut, Howlin’, was a full-on Madchester revival. Now, with this fall’s follow-up, Every Now & Then, synth wizard Jono Ma, vocalist Gabriel Winterfield and bassist Jack Freeman have beefed-up the copy-and-paste sampling of sonic ancestors, such as the Avalanches and the Dust Brothers, and delivered an even more ambitious, cohesive and well-humored slab of psychedelic dance. We caught up with Winterfield and Ma ahead of the group's show at Webster Hall. Every Now & Then seems like a pretty philosophical title for a second album.Gabriel Winterfield: Maybe there’s a deeper meaning. My dad listened and said, “It’s like you and Jono are in a spaceship, and you’re looking down on the world and putting all the music you hear into a record.” It’s a carpe diem record. You shared your London studio with legendary producer Andrew Weatherall. Did you have many interactions?Jono Ma: He offered feedback. Andrew’s hilarious. He’d knock on the door to say goodbye before leaving the studio: “All right, Jonathan, I’ll leave the future of dance music in your hands for the rest of the evening.” You never know for the next record… For this album, you were influenced by the Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique. That type of sampling would be impossible now due to copyright laws…JM: Wildflower by the Avalanches this yea

British foursome Catfish and the Bottlemen has had quite the journey since putting out its debut album, The Balcony, in 2014. Led by frontman Ryan Evan “Van” McCann, the crew has been touring all around the globe, building up from beer-soaked sweatboxes to massive festival slots. This U.S. visit is a warm-up of sorts for the band’s first, mostly sold-out U.K.-arena tour later this fall. Both come on the heels of its second LP, The Ride, released in May: an on-the-road indie-rock album built on big riffs, clattering drums and pint-swigging, anthem-chanting opportunities. We talked with McCann before the crew sets out.   Hello, Van! Where are you, and how are you? In scummy Newcastle [, England]. It’s class! We just played at an outdoor venue to 5,000 wild Geordies [Ed.note: People from an area of northeastern England].   After two years on the road, do you ever want to take a break? Nah. There are artists who like recording music, but we love touring. We do albums as quick as we can. Writing songs is about adding to the set list. Like writing a script and watching it play out in front of ya.   Are there bands you look to for career inspiration? Me and Bondy [guitarist Johnny Bond] were up on the balcony, watching the Killers headline Governors Ball. We had a proper arms-up moment, belting their tunes. They’re dons, proper legends.   What are your rules for the road? Follow the craic! [Ed. note: Craic is Irish slang for “good times.”] We just go out wherever’s good. Every night

It’s noon on a Monday, and Angel Olsen is on vacation in Folly Beach, North Carolina, a four-hour drive from her adopted home of Asheville. Soon she’ll embark on a tour that includes shows at Webster Hall and the Warsaw for her new album, My Woman, the follow-up to 2014’s much-touted Burn Your Fire for No Witness. The latter positioned Olsen as a critics’ darling and the face of a loosely termed “alt-indie folk” scene; this new record is a complex challenge to that notion, embracing less organic sounds and a poppier production. Over the phone we discuss the disarming, beautiful work that, like Olsen herself, defies easy categorization. Do you wonder how people will interpret the songs on My Woman? I’m sure a large percentage of my audience has misconstrued my art and projected something even more beautiful inside it. How could I try to correct that? It’s none of my business. I need to not spend time second-guessing my work, googling myself or checking articles about me. These beautiful conversations I have with journalists are belittled via a tacky headline. It hurts my feelings knowing we shared something that’s narrowed down to nothing. I’ll be ready to talk about that when I retire. Talk to me about what I’m reading, the election, where I am in life… Where are you in life? I’m approaching 30, embracing the ugliest angles of myself publicly. It’s not about ego, it’s about showing people how to do that for themselves. I’m confident when I move down the street. What people se