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“Being a musician is built on human error,” she muses on set. “Most songs are born out of human error, whether it’s somebody breaking up with you or you breaking up with somebody, or not liking how you look that day. All of these things are essential to write about.” She pauses. “Art is born out of human error,” she smiles. “So, whether it’s the music or how I present myself, I’ve never been more interested in human imperfection. It’s funny.”

In your own words, you want to showcase your range and “the genre of Laufey” with your new album, “A Matter of Time”. How would you describe this genre to someone hitting play for the first time? 

The common thread through all of my music is honesty, whether it’s a sarcastic kind of humour or just devastating honesty — that’s the through line. My sound has always been very classic, inspired by classical music, jazz music, and theatre. But with “A Matter of Time”, I really wanted to show the world the range that I have within me. I’ve definitely shown the world a very soft side of myself, a very controlled part of myself, and I think sometimes the world doesn’t get to see everything else. I’m not always this poised, perfect, polite, modest person. People are really surprised when I wear something unexpected or when I swear — I really am those things too! I don’t want anybody to put me in a box. I think so often women are pegged as one thing or another, but you can be both.

“A Matter of Time” was born out of this exhaustion from chasing after perfect beauty. So, how has your personal definition of beauty evolved while creating this album?

I think understanding that perfection or perfect beauty is an ever-moving target, one that you’re never really going to reach, is a way to let go of it. In the past two years – I don’t know, maybe my frontal lobe has developed – but I care so much about imperfection, human error. At the time of writing this album, there have been so many technological advances and so much change, especially in social media. I’m so tired of our fixation on quick responses and instant gratification. 

I think human error and human imperfection are the most beautiful things. I kind of thought that before, but these last two years have truly cemented it. I rely so much on my own brain to get answers. And I’m in one of the very few fields that doesn’t ask for perfection. How lucky am I that a spelling mistake or a wrong vocal inflexion, whether it’s on a recording or on stage, actually adds to the performance and makes it better? It doesn’t take away from it. I’m so lucky to be in a field like that.

You also just published your first book, “Mei Mei The Bunny”. What specifically drew you to creating a children’s book?

Well, I think everything I do, I’m always speaking to my younger self. It’s a way to hold myself accountable — am I staying true to my roots, am I staying true to who I am? 

I literally wrote a song that’s a letter to my thirteen-year-old self, but this was my way of writing a book to my five-year-old self. So many of my audience are young performers, and I get asked so much about performing. I’m in this unique position where I’ve been on stage since I was very, very young. In the book, Mei Mei makes a mistake, and it’s okay. And speaking of mistakes, so much of performance anxiety stems from the fear of making them. If you can overcome that fear and reframe mistakes as something beautiful or a lesson, a lot of the performance anxiety can be lifted. That’s why I wanted to write the book. I think it was also a really fun exercise. Children’s literature is very lyrical, like songwriting, and you get to write to an audience that’s a little less affected by the world. I think that’s really beautiful.