Lights has been cranking out beguiling synthpop tunes since she was a Toronto teenager. Now approaching 30, and with an infant daughter at home (her name is Rocket Wild), the musician once known as Valerie Poxleitner is taking a slightly more low-key approach—to music, if not to life. Her just-released latest album, Midnight Machines, trades synthetic beats for acoustic rhythms and unadorned vocals. Here’s how she answered our questionnaire:
Right here on my couch, actually. I have mountains across the street, B.C. rainforest just outside the door, all my comic and video game collectibles, a hefty crystal collection in light-up cases, and my daughter is playing on the floor in front of me. Of all the places I’ve been in the world, nothing feels quite like this.
When people think raging about something online is more effective than just living that conviction and being an example.
Video games and wine.
Lipliner, probably. I just don’t think it looks that good. It doesn’t go much deeper than that. That said, I wore it in grade nine once because Pam Anderson wore it. I got made fun of for it, so maybe I’m sore.
I’ve done many things I’m proud of, but what makes me the proudest is the fact that I’ve managed to be the mother of a beautiful daughter in the process.
Honest, loyal and disorganized.
People don’t really understand the depth at which I’m actually a survivalist. I have a bug-out plan, a survival kit, and I’m well versed in apocalypse jargon and know-how.
I’d love to live my current age in, like, 50 years. I’d love to see what kind of technology we would have at our disposal. I’ve seen so much change in my lifetime that I want to be part of more. I’m dying to know where tech advancements will take music production, and how immersive a gaming experience will be. Also, I’d be interested in attempting to survive the inevitable apocalypse we are carving out for ourselves.
Being afraid for so many years. I never realized how at peace you could be with yourself until I had a kid. Life is so much more enjoyable when you realize it isn’t all about you.
Binge-watching The 100. The writing is really great, and it has a bit of all the things I love: fantasy, sci-fi, horror and sex.
An all-nighter horror movie marathon with a pint of peanut butter ice cream and a joint.
Honestly, Myspace Tom. He’s kind of my hero. He’s living the dream every day, traveling the world and taking photos.
Lara Croft in a freaking heartbeat. It’s hard to imagine a fake person being inspiring, but she helps me visualize what I’m capable of.
“Vehement.” I think I get it, but I’m not sure.
I’ve met everyone I’ve dreamed of, I think: Phil Collins, Joni Mitchell and Bryan Adams. People are just people, and most of the time they’ll just remind you of that and it will be slightly disappointing for you.
Strangely, I can’t recall anything painfully embarrassing—which is weird, because I am very clumsy and awkward. I think I block those things out purposely.
If we’re talking from a real-life scenario it would’ve been coming back from my last U.K. tour and seeing my girl. But I cry all the time watching shows and movies. I’m an emotional wreck.
I always hate answering this, because my music has been referred to as a guilty pleasure before. It bums me out that someone would be ashamed of something they like.
Decent as in “that was really decent bro”? I would do 20. Decent as in “meh”? I would do 15.
Probably Banks, because I’ve been stopped a time or two in public by fans mistaking me for her.
The latest Saga issue if we’re talking reading material in general. But the last actual book was the SAS Survival Handbook.
Oh God. I guess a bottle of moscato and a turkey dinner. I’d be hoping to go into a food coma.
All of the lyrics to “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones.
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