A conversation with k.d. lang from 2017

The former cowpunk queen reflects on her game-changing 1992 country-pop crossover, Ingénue

Oct 24, 2025

Welcome to stübermania, where I dig into my box of dust-covered interview cassettes from the 1990s and 2000s (and crusty mp3 files from the 2010s) to present bygone conversations with your favourite alterna/indie semi-stars and the occasional classic-rock icon.

This is a newsletter in three parts: The Openers (links to recent writings, playlist updates, and/or other musical musings), The Headliner (your featured interview of the week), and Encores (random yet related links).

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THE OPENERS

On August 11, 2018, my wife and I had tickets to see David Byrne’s American Utopia tour at Detroit’s Fox Theater with my brother (who lived in the Motor City at the time). An hour before the show, my brother and I shared a chocolate edible… but he misread the info on the packaging and ended up giving us, like, five times the normal dose by accident, which resulted in me having a full-blown panic attack in the lobby of the venue and curling up in a stairwell convinced I was going to die, before security escorted me to a first-aid room and gave me some orange juice to perk me up. (You know when you’re at a show and you see the bouncers dragging that totally fucked-up person through the crowd, and you think, “ha ha, what an amateur”? That was me!) We ended up having to leave the venue before the show even started, much to the extreme chagrin of my sober wife, who, instead of seeing one of her favourite artists in concert, had to suddenly look after two severely stoned idiots who were having their ABC After-School Special moment in their 40s.

All of which is to say: Thursday evening’s David Byrne show at Massey Hall was no mere date night for me and my wife, but a seven-years-in-the-making act of penance. Thankfully, the embarrassing memories of my Detroit meltdown were instantly erased by an eye-popping production that was part Broadway musical, part black-box-theater interpretive-dance event, part Blue Man Group revue, part Wes Anderson flick, part TED Talk. Just prior to showtime, the PA broadcasted a recorded announcement from Byrne asking us to keep our smartphone picture-taking to a minimum and just be present in the moment. A totally reasonable request, to be sure, but also an impossible one to honour, given the show’s endless parade of visual delights. Here are seven moments where I couldn’t leave my phone alone:
- Early in the show, Byrne shared photos of his afternoon shopping trek along Spadina (which included a visit to Sonic Boom), momentarily transforming Massey Hall into the city’s largest Chinatown souvenir stall:
- While performing the COVID-lockdown-inspired “My Apartment Is My Friend” (from the recently released Who Is the Sky?), he gave us a 360-degree view of his pad that made it feel like we were looking up his place on a realtor’s site and clicking the virtual-tour button:
- In lieu of the traditional introducing-the-band break, Byrne simply had the players’ names projected on the stage floor and let the text follow them around:
- Late in the set, he pulled out his recent cover of “Hard Times,” reaffirming his unique stature as the missing link between Pere Ubu and Paramore:
- He introduced “Psycho Killer” by acknowledging the late Arthur Russell’s alternate acoustic arrangement of the song, which the band recreated against a suitably stark backdrop:
- I was all prepared to bop along to the set-closing “Once in a Lifetime” without iPhone accompaniment, but the closing light-show blitz was too stunning not to capture:
- But even in a concert that radiated non-stop positivity for two hours, there was no ignoring the reality of the current American dystopia:
This week on Commotion, I produced this discussion with veteran music scribe Grayson Haver Currin about the new Tame Impala album, Deadbeat, and his recent experience interviewing Kevin Parker for a GQ profile (which, even if you don’t like the album or the band, you should still read, because Grayson is a master at getting notoriously reticent musicians to open up).

Notes on this week’s additions to the stübermania 2025 jukebox:
Click here for the Apple Music version
- GUV, “Let Your Hands Go”: It’s been three long years since Ben Cook last graced us with his power-pop pleasures, but the formerly young GUV has returned at just the right time to cure our post-Oasis-summer hangovers, with a big baggy choon tailor-made for the Kangol-clad contingent who are still bummed that “Columbia” didn’t make it onto the Gallaghers’ reunion-tour setlist. (Look out for GUV’s new record, Warmer Than Gold, out Jan. 30.)
- Sudan Archives, “Noire”: The BPM’s epic penultimate banger stakes out the common dancefloor ground between libidinous strobe-lit electro and gothic Depeche Mode melodrama.
- The Barr Brothers, “Upsetter”: The Barrs generally travel in indie-folk/NPR-core circles—they’re spending much of this fall touring with Mumford & Sons—but this aptly named closing track from the new Let It Hiss disrupts that genteel image with a grimy garage-rock-‘n’-soul suckerpunch chased by ear-bleeding guitar squeals.
- Daniel Caesar, “Baby Blue”: At times, Daniel’s latest release, Son of Spergy (out today), sounds more like a ‘60s psych-folk record than a modern R&B product, and this highlight feels like his attempt to fold the entirety of the White Album—the whimsical melodies, the elegant orchestration, the sound-collage chaos—into a sidewinding, six-minute suite.
- The Gnomes, “I’ll Be There”: As the above entry attests, whenever you hear a contemporary artist taking cues from The Beatles, nine times out of 10, they’re drawing from the Fabs’ more adventurous post-’65 catalogue. But I can’t remember the last time a young band tried to rewrite “She Loves You,” as these Aussie upstarts do with a wide-eyed aplomb that rivals The Oneders. (More jangly joy awaits on Introducing… The Gnomes, out Nov. 7.)

THE HEADLINER:
A conversation with k.d. lang

The date: February 20, 2017

Publication: Passport Canada

Location: I was at home in Hamilton; I forget where k.d. was calling in from.

Tour being promoted: The 25th anniversary of lang’s 1992 album, Ingénue

The context: While watching the John Candy documentary recently, I was reminded of the late actor’s early-‘90s tenure as co-owner of the Toronto Argonauts alongside disgraced hockey hero Wayne Gretzky and disgraced sports mogul Bruce McNall, a name I hadn’t thought of in over three decades. And I was watching the doc around the same time the Blue Jays were beginning their playoff march, which has led them to the World Series for the first time in 32 years. So I was already in a 1992-93 state of mind when k.d. lang made a rare public appearance last week to induct Jane Siberry into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame, and it inspired me to dig out this interview I did with lang on the eve of the 25th-anniversary tour for her 1992 Grammy-winning, multiplatinum crossover smash, Ingénue. (The tour was part of the official event schedule for Canada’s 150th birthday celebrations, and our Q&A was featured on an auxiliary promotional site called Passport Canada that has since disappeared into the digital ether.) So even though this is an interview from 2017, it’s mostly about 1992, and I’m running it here in the hopes that the recycled early-‘90s vibes will help create the ideal conditions for a third Blue Jays World Series win.

What’s the logic of doing your 25th-anniversary tour as part of the Canada 150 celebrations?

Other than the fact I’m a proud Canadian, I don’t know… it just made the idea of touring even more excitable. I’m really, really excited about it. I’ve been waiting for this one for years. It’s the 25th anniversary of Ingénue, and it happens to coincide with the 150^th anniversary of Canada, so it’s a double celebration.

When’s the last time you listened to Ingénue? Do you revisit your old stuff often?

No, I don’t. But I actually listened to it about two weeks ago, because we started rehearsals and configured the band. It brings back a lot of memories—that was obviously the big record for me, so it has a lot of convoluted and great emotions at the same time.

The songs on the record are so personal—like, on “The Mind of Love,” you’re literally having conversations with yourself about your mental state. When you hear that song now, do you recognize that person singing it?

It’s funny, because that song is one of the songs that, as I get older and more and more—or less and less—of an understanding of my own mind, that song seems extremely applicable. What we’re capable of thinking when we’re in an emotional corner… it’s shocking where the human mind can go.

You said at the time of the album’s release that it was about a specific relationship with someone you were obsessed with—you even told Rolling Stone magazine that you were essentially a stalker. Can you listen to these songs independent of that context?

Definitely. I toured that record for 18 months, so there’s a lot of experience tied up in it. And then after 25 years of singing those songs on different tours and in different situations, I have quite an accumulated memory bank at this point.

Ingénue was a huge stylistic departure for you; it also vaulted you to a new level of popularity. At the same time, you came out. Any one of those things would be a big adjustment for an artist—you did them all at once. How did that feel? Did you just surrender to the roller coaster, or was it hard to adjust to all that scrutiny?

Oh yeah, all of the above. It’s so complex, really. I was working so hard and just going with the flow: every day was a photo shoot or a touring day or a photo shoot or a TV show. I was working so fast and so hard; but at the same time, you’re high as a kite, because it’s a successful record. “Constant Craving” was a No. 1 record. I think the processing of the experience came years later. And I still process it today and try to understand the balance between success and what motivates me to be a singer. I don’t think I will ever fully be at peace with that question. While I was in it, I thought it was fine, of course, because you’re just living it, and you have a thousand people around you just pleasing you, but I think it’s definitely something I look back on, and some of the choices I made and my attitude in some cases… I thought I was prepared for success, but nothing ever does prepare you for success.

What kept you sane during that period?

My mom, for sure. Dogs… walks in parks with my friends… and I think the music did in the long run. I’d catch myself trying to write hits after that and realizing hits don’t come because you try to write them, at least not for me. Ingénue was written as a real leap of faith—Ben [Mink] and I thought, ‘This record is going to tank.’ And for the most part it did, because the reviews and the criticism of the record were extreme. There were a lot of bad reviews. And then somehow, it started gaining momentum. A lot of that had to do with the touring, but also things like the Vanity Fair cover. I learned a lot about my relationship with music based on following Ingénue and what motivated me to write or what motivated me to be a certain way. For me, this tour is really exciting, because 25 years ago, it was a signpost in the gay and lesbian revolution—or coming-out, I should say—being in the mainstream in a real significant way, and from what I read on Twitter, that record really meant a lot to them and really helped them come into their own. That means a lot to me, and 25 years later, it’s just really nice to perform those songs for people who have a relationship with the record.

And what do you make of that legacy, in terms of how far we’ve come or haven’t come?

I think we’ve come a long way. Of course, there are setbacks, like the Trump administration [laughs]. I have the good fortune of realizing I didn’t represent the whole gay and lesbian culture at the time, and that representing myself within the culture was how I approached it. And I think in the long run, it was the right thing to do, because I didn’t want to become a self-proclaimed poster child for gay and lesbian culture, because as we all know it’s a very diverse culture. But I figured being myself and being honest was probably the most legitimate offering I could make.

Ingénue came out during a golden age of the music industry, when top artists sold millions upon millions of records. Obviously, the landscape has changed. Your most recent releases have come through labels like Nonesuch and Anti—more boutique operations. Do you feel more comfortable in that realm today?

Yeah. I love both of those labels; I’m still on Nonesuch. Especially as I enter my “out in the pasture” era, making music is the ultimate and the only reason for making a record… having the support of a label that puts the music and the artwork and repertoire and the roster of the label at the forefront is incredibly supportive and feels safe.

And collaborating with people like Neko Case and Laura Veirs must be very inspiring.

That was a very rejuvenating experience, and I hope we get to do more stuff together. It was really inspiring to see how other artists approach songwriting and performing and to be just a part of a collective that were all putting art forward. It was super healing and rejuvenating.

Did it feel like going back to your cowpunk roots in a way?

Um… no, it was more like visiting a dream or an aspiration. I think in the cowpunk days, I was so crazy and so ready to tackle the world—that was a totally different kinetic energy. This was more like I was a part of something that just seemed so earnest and real and easygoing and as a result was super-rewarding.

So I imagine there are songs on Ingénue you haven’t played in a really long time. What are you most excited about revisiting?

Yeah, I don’t think we ever played “Season of Hollowed Soul” or “Tears of Love’s Recall” live. There’s a couple of songs I have never performed. And this year we’re doing the album in sequence and its entirety, so I’m really excited. We’re going to keep some exactly the same as the record and then we’re going to rearrange some songs, so it’ll be a nice mix for both the band and I and the audience.

So, this will be your first Canadian tour in 13 years…

Is it really? Oh god…

Is there any Canadian city that’s dear to your heart as a performer?

A lot of cities are dear to my heart, but this year I’m particularly looking forward to playing the Maritimes. I don’t think I’ve played Charlottetown since 1985!

Well, since they haven’t seen you in 30-plus years, you’ll have to bust out “Bopalena” to get reacquainted…

I don’t think I’m going to bust out “Bopalena,” but thanks for the thought!

ENCORES

k.d. lang hasn’t performed live in over five years (or at least a proper headlining show—as my fact-checking pal Michael Barclay notes in the comments below, she did play the CCMAs in 2024). And she has effectively retired from music-making, so the fact she emerged out of seclusion to induct Jane Siberry into the Canadian Songwriters of Fame last week speaks volumes about the reverence lang holds for her fellow pioneer of ‘80s alt-Canadiana. Here’s lang speaking to the Canadian Press recently about her friendship with Siberry, which yielded their 1991 duet, “Calling All Angels”:
If there is to be no more music forthcoming from k.d. lang, it’s kind of bizarre/hilarious/awesome that her final recording credit is a cameo on The Killers’ 2020 album, Imploding the Mirage: