And “Glenrio” is an example of that. Glenrio is a ghost town in New Mexico—on the border of New Mexico and Texas. It’s a really, really rough-looking place, with packs of wild dogs roaming the streets. You can’t even really get out of your car and walk around. It’s not a welcoming place at all. So I’ve only had a very small glimpse of that little ghost town, but it’s such a great name and it just had such mystery surrounding it. And when we drove away, I knew right away. I’m like, ‘Ah, “Glenrio,” that’s a song.’
Of the styles on Victoria Day, what is it about the blues, in particular, that resonates with you?
It’s almost unexplainable. It’s hard when you feel a connection to something—when you’re passionate about something—to put it into words. I’m not completely well versed in blues history [though] I definitely listen to my share of it. I come from the suburbs in Canada. [Laughs] So it’s an interesting place to come from and to feel a connection to that. But we live in a kind of world where we have access to everything now. I can go online and listen to traditional African music or traditional Indian or anything. It’s worldwide now. I can access any type of music and I feel like that’s really bled into my creative process. I’m always drawing from everything around me—especially being a girl from the suburbs, where your surroundings can be pretty culturally dead at times... My first real connection to [the blues] was when I sang it. It just feels so good. I can just close my eyes and get lost in it and that’s when I know that it’s real for me.