Dec. 10, 2021

Interview with LP

Interview with LP

We had the pleasure of interviewing LP over Zoom video! 
 
There’s this girl in the corner and she’s small, really small, and she looks like a boy, and she’s seething with emotion, with rage and love - because she’s alone, because we’re all alone,...

We had the pleasure of interviewing LP over Zoom video! 
 
There’s this girl in the corner and she’s small, really small, and she looks like a boy, and she’s seething with emotion, with rage and love - because she’s alone, because we’re all alone, because our parents didn’t get it. She just found out faster. 

Her skin is thinner because her heart is bigger. Her heart pushes against the skin, stretching it, sometimes too much. 

She is a bloodletter, this girl. “A bloodletter of emotion,” she says. I think, given the right or the wrong moment, you are too. 

Born Italian. New York. You’ve got to understand that; the hottest blood, the toughest city, the smallest girl. 

Today she is 5’ 3” and just over a hundred pounds but her sound is anthemic, maxed out. You don’t believe your ear-eyes when you see-hear, pealing from the body of one fighting with not enough, the music of so, so much. It is the music of emotional emergency, a prayer sung loud into a bottle and cast out to sea. 

I think of Judy Garland, Bjork, Freddie Mercury if he had to deal with being a fucking girl. From a little match, a conflagration. 

LP is the medicine. She is good for heartbreak, which she knows, and in a way, lives in. 

She writes from that, sings from that. The annoyance, the grain of ocean-floor sand troubling the oyster. It’s loss. It’s always there. 

Her mother died when she was a teenager. She sang too — a voice, LP remembers, that “was very operatic, kind of like Maria Callas with a Julie Andrews cleanness to her tone.” 

She’ll never recover, but there is the mounting hope, the certain knowledge, hard earned, that “you can wield suffering, which is strength and power.” 

Church, no church. Gay, not gay. 

The bloodletting’s the same. The blood-pearls of a poet-oyster who has hit songs and record deals and plays sold out shows all over the world and goes to bed saying to herself, “I love, I love, I love, I love…” 

 
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www.BringinitBackwards.com
 
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