With her retro blend of jazz-pop, the Icelandic artist seems an unlikely superstar. She discusses her surprising path to fame – and how much of her personal life she is willing to put into her music
O
ne mark of whether someone has the boldness to be a good pop star is how they respond to overhearing someone slagging them off. A few weeks ago, the Icelandic-Chinese jazz-pop phenomenon Laufey was at a coffee shop close to her Los Angeles home when her ears pricked up at the mention of her name (it’s pronounced “Lay-vay”, by the way). “I used to love her,” a young woman told her friends. “I’ve met her and she’s so sweet, but her music is unlistenable now.”
In that split-second, Laufey realised that she could do the Normal Person Thing (slink away unnoticed and furiously text her group chat), or do the Pop Star Thing. She spun around to face the group. “I’m so sorry,” Laufey said, her voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. “I try my best.”
The thought of being confronted by a celebrity you are gossiping about is enough to send most of us into an early grave, and I nervously laugh as Laufey tells me the story one morning in New York. She laughs too, perhaps a little shocked by her ballsiness. “I wasn’t even trying to clap back,” she says. “They didn’t know what to say, they were so dumbfounded.”
