
You’ve probably heard Keren Ann’s haunting songs without knowing her name. But now, with the release of her ambitious sixth album, that’s about to change Keren Ann Zeidel sits at a long cafe table, huddled in a voluminous beige-brown cape, her eyes ringed with kohl. Her black hair is cut in an uncompromising pudding bowl and her skin is as pale as an oyster shell. She looks small and delicate, almost child-like, but when she starts talking about music, she launches fluently into extended semi-philosophical monologues on the nature of art, referencing everything from film noir to Chopin. The overall effect is somewhat incongruous, like a bush-baby delivering a university lecture. “My music is much easier to explain as a picture,” she says, midway through one such monologue. “All the arrangements, textures, all the colours and the way you mix them… It’s frequencies instead of pigments.” She laughs, semi-apologetic, and drinks her black coffee. “I know it sounds very