Q: You’ve sung in Latin, you’ve referenced Thomas Mann, and your new album pays tribute to Shakespeare. What’s your beef with the 21st century?
A: I am a little slower in my percolations. I like examining what’s come before. But that said, I’m addicted to Real Housewives of Orange County and Keeping Up With the Kardashians. I get sideswiped by the boobs, the hair, the butts, the jewels, the cars, the bad boys. And I love, love 50 Cent. I think he’s just the sexiest, and a brilliant writer. And I know he’s gay.
Q: What makes you so sure?
A: That cute little voice of his. It’s okay, 50 Cent. Feel free to call me anytime. My boyfriend and I are experts. You can come over for dinner. And maybe dessert.
Q: You were born in America but raised in Montreal. What’s the most Canadian thing about you?
A: My love of maple syrup. I’ve been known to knock back a can over a couple days: A swig here, a swig there, and next thing you know it’s gone. It’s a habit I have to stave off. I don’t want to lose all my teeth. I stopped doing crystal meth—I don’t want to look like an addict.
Q: What’s the best part of a crystal-meth high?
A: There’s nothing enjoyable about it. It gets its hooks in you. I’ve done every kind of drug, and each one has something laudable about it, except meth.
Q: How did your parents—the folk musicians Loudon Wainwright III and (the late) Kate McGarrigle—react when you came out in your teens?
A: I love my folks, and they’ve done a good job coming full circle, but they were terrible: terrified, ill-equipped, confused. They threatened to kick me out of the house. They didn’t want to talk about it and just weren’t there for me. I mean, it was the mid-eighties and AIDS was pervasive, so I can’t blame them totally for their insanity. And they changed a lot over the years.
I wonder if 50 Cent will provide us with a reaction.
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