In a new memoir, the singer-songwriter Neko Case recounts a childhood of poverty and neglect: a mother who left her and a father who was barely there. But there was also music. And when there was nothing else, that was, perhaps, enough. Get more from your favorite Atlantic voices when you subscribe. You’ll enjoy unlimited access to Pulitzer-winning journalism, from clear-eyed analysis and insight on breaking news to fascinating explorations of our world. Subscribe today at TheAtlantic.com/podsub. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
Just a quick note.
This episode contains some cursing that you might not usually hear on this show.
Nico Case is one of those musicians that people have really strong personal attachments to,
especially indie music lovers of a certain generation.
Like, I know two people who have named a child after her.
Nico Case is a lead vocalist of the indie pop collective the New Pornographers,
and she's also had a long solo career.
But.
But what's most distinct about her are her lyrics, which are often oblique,
like a song seems to be about a car crash, but maybe it's about incomplete grief.
You have to listen a few times before you get closer to it.
Of a Falcon sedan, 1969.
The paper said 75.
There were no survivors.
And then there are lots of times when Kay seems to be writing about herself,
but it's not entirely clear.
Were they trying to tell me something?
Were they telling me to run?
This is Radio Atlantic.
I'm Hanna Rosen.