1.
ON A BRIGHT NOVEMBER day, Mitski is waiting for me in my hotel lobby in Nashville. She’s dressed practically, in a hunter-green f leece, jeans, and light-lavender sneakers. Her face is bare, with spots of acne dotting her jawline; her hair is a clean bob that sways above her shoulders. There’s an understated audacity to Mitski’s person. She’s deliberate and resolute in her decisions, including the hiatus that sent tremors through the Mitski fandom when she said her performance at Central Park’s SummerStage in 2019 would be her “last show indefinitely.” She had been planning on the break for a while, making sure she had enough money saved up before she pulled the plug. ¶ Then she moved to Nashville. She wanted to live in a place that wasn’t New York or Los Angeles and still had ready access to music studios, but she has spent the past two years like most of us: in a hole. It might be the ordinariness of her regular life that makes her feel worlds apart from the movie stars she loves, like Julia Roberts and Nicolas Cage. That “It” factor?
She claims not to have it. “I’m not a star,” she says. “I can say that with confidence because I have met real stars. And I have cowered before them.”
Mitski recalls being backstage at a benefit concert: Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, St. Vincent, Blake Lively. “I started to get a headache and heart palpitations. My hands started to shake. I thought I was gonna throw up, I really did. I told my manager, ‘I need to get out of here,’ and I practically ran out. I remember Taylor Swift talking to me, but I don’t remember what I said back to her. I remember her saying, ‘Well,’ and then leaving.” She laughs.
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