“I Believe in Everything”: Lydia Ainsworth Longs for Life on Sparkles & Debris
Photo by Zoe Koke
Some folks drift through life, oblivious to all the ephemeral beauty that surrounds them. This is not a crime, of course—they’re just missing that internal childlike-wonder chip that keeps their senses, whether audio, visual, olfactory or otherwise, on high alert. And some are quite happy that way. They buy the latest Top 10 CD every couple of months at Target, and that’s all the stimulus they actually require, no added input necessary. Then there are rare breeds like Toronto musician Lydia Ainsworth, an eagle-eyed aesthete who is always scanning the horizon for gorgeous potential sources of inspiration. And four albums into her impressive career, she doesn’t miss a trick.
The last conversation Ainsworth had with this writer was four years ago, ostensibly to discuss her ethereal second album, Darling of the Afterglow, and stunning surreal videos that her sister Abby had directed for several songs. But it quickly veered off course, the way great conversations can, as she caromed through some of the album’s varied inspirations, like artist Rene Magritte—citing the disparity between his playful enigmatic signature This not a Pipe and a more sobering The Menaced Assassin—as well as Stanley Kubrick’s underrated Tom Cruise/Nicole Kidman masterpiece Eyes Wide Shut, and French author Henri Bergson’s heady 1896 treatise Matter and Memory, subtitled Essay on the relation of body and spirit. Phoning to discuss her adventurous new fourth effort, Sparkles & Debris, she remembers almost all of that talk, but one detail stands out: “You turned me on to John Wick,” she says at the outset. “And I have to thank you.”
It may not be easy to keep up with the brainy Ainsworth. But it’s fun—and truly rewardin—to try. Be prepared—she’s not like anyone you’ve ever heard. With a majestic voice that’s simultaneously as operatically precise as Annie Haslam’s, as folk-seasoned as Sandy Denny’s, and as lush and mystical as Enya’s—with just a pinch of suggestive goth—she pens oblique, keyboard-based pop songs that exist in their own idiosyncratic world. The opening “Parade,” for instance, is off-kilter, stroll-paced pop, her voice insinuating itself into rich, evocative lines like “Underneath the velvet sky I’ve lost the key again,” and you may not have any idea what it means. But it just feels right, as does a bouncy Chic-echoing “Good Times,” a sinister “Amaryllis,” the rhapsodic “Forever” and a cathartic “Cake,” in which her apparent anger towards an ex rises to a crescendo: “You’d best believe you won’t be touching me ever again.” Additionally. her somber 2015 piano rendition of Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” framed the already-forlorn original in such a dark new flickering light that it felt like a scene out of Fritz Lang’’s Metropolis—you can’t squirm free from its funereal grip, and you won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.
Ainsworth, in general, is unforgettable, as well. With her more experimental 2014 debut Right From Real, she carved a cultish niche for herself that’s heading in a lofty, Kate Bush-impressive direction. Here’s what she had to say this time.
Paste: The first, most important pandemic-era question—did you see Eurovision Song Contest—The Story of Fire Saga last year on Netflix, and how much did you love it?
Lydia Ainsworth: Yes! And that came at a very key moment, when we really needed to be cheered up. It was the perfect balance of silliness and optimism, optimism for playing shows in the future. It came at the perfect moment, that film. And that’s one of my goals when the pandemic is over (spoiler alert)—I’m getting that giant hamster wheel! But yeah, it is a very special film.
Paste: Do you ever wonder why some people, like yourself, are simply born more curious than most?
Ainsworth: I come from Toronto, but then I also moved to New York. So I think it’s also nature and nurture. And I was very lucky. I got to study cello when I went to a public school and they just gave me an instrument to play. Which is no longer happening because of all the cutbacks in school programs. So that was reason number one—I was really lucky. And then I went to an arts high school, where I was surrounded by kids who all had an interest in the arts, and so my friends there helped guide me, as well. And also, my parents are artists, so that was pretty helpful, too. But yeah—I wonder if I would have found it on my own. I’d like to think so, but I dunno. I think there were a lot of lucky circumstances involved, too.
Paste: Looking back on that upbringing, what were some sonic or visual turning points for you?
Ainsworth: Well, some of my early memories are … for my bat mitzvah, I got a six-CD-player boombox, so that was amazing. And I just spent hours in my room, going from CD to CD, and it was all different types of music, from Stevie Wonder and The Beatles to Joni Mitchell and Bjork. So I think Bjork was one of my first influences, where I heard electronic and orchestral and her amazing voice. But then I equally just adored pop music, as well as all these classics. So that’s what I was just lapping up—anything I could get my hands on. And also, as a cellist, a teacher at school sent me this video of Jacqueline du Pre, playing the Elgar concerto, I think when she was around my age at the time—when it was filmed, she was a young teenager. And that, to me, was absolutely inspiring, and that specific piece of music—the Elgar concerto—is just mind-blowing. And sitting in the orchestra, I wasn’t a great cellist, and I didn’t have the right technique. But I played in the orchestra and I got to sit at the back and take in everything that was going on and just absorb all this music that we were playing. And I just knew that I wanted to be writing music for instrumentalists, so that was a huge turning point for me, too. And then I started writing for my friends to play these small-ensemble-type pieces, and then I continued starting to write music for filmmakers, and then I started writing film scores. So that was my first foray into music as a job. And then I started performing when I went to New York to study film scoring. And I also started songwriting then, after a friend had invited me to play some of the film cues from his movie. He said he was having this afterparty and asked if I wanted to play something live. So I got a little orchestra together, but I didn’t have any lyrics—it was all just vocalizations. I was using my voice, but without lyrics. So then I wrote a few songs and the rest is history—I really fell in love with that whole side of music, just fell in love with songwriting.
Paste: But at some point you probably came to understand that you think visually, right?