Count on indie darling Lykke Li to craft infectious melodies you can dance, sulk or make love to – but don’t expect her to mince words

Swedish electropop songstress Lykke Li clearly isn’t in the business of winning over journalists with cloying remarks. Upon our meeting at Montreal’s Osheaga Festival in early August, the gorgeous black-clad blonde with a knack for timeless fashion wastes no time in revealing just how redundant she considers the interviewer/interviewee dynamic. “It’s really funny to read the story of my life over and over again,” she says. “There is nothing new that’s brought to the table. I always have to talk about Sweden and the same things.”

Quite the icebreaker, but who can blame her? The 23-year-old has been touring the world and doing press round-the-clock for over a year now, and one can only imagine the sheer quantity of insipid observations she’s had to endure, poker-faced for the most part.

For those still oblivious to the tale of Lykke, here’s the gist: artistically inclined parents who provided her with an uncharacteristically nomadic upbringing – think Sweden, Portugal, Morocco, India and the US; an inspired mentor in fellow Swede Bjorn Yttling of Peter Bjorn and John, who helped her refine her melodic chops; an already impressive array of collabs with the likes of Kanye West, Santigold, Röyksopp, Kings of Leon and Kleerup; and a debut album, Youth Novels, that fearlessly tackles gut-wrenching heartbreak.

And don’t think for a moment that the unremitting media attention has fazed her in any way. When I ask her if it’s bizarre to see her own songs pop up in an entirely different context – she’s provided the soundtrack to Victoria’s Secret commercials, Grey’s Anatomy scenes and even American Idol performances – the plain-spoken Li again steers clear of any kind of industry sweet-talking. “To be honest, I’ve never seen it happen, because I’ve never watched those shows. A lot of these things that people read or hear about me, I just don’t watch, so I really have no idea. But from my perspective as a songwriter, it’s quite funny. I mean, it’s happened before that I’m in a store and they’ve played my song, and it’s very surreal.”

It’s quite tempting to draw parallels between her offbeat, quirky compositions and those of countless other Swedes who have conquered the airwaves – The Cardigans, Jens Lekman and a newly made-over Robyn come to mind – especially given our unmitigated North American fascination for all things Swedish. But the wealth of talent coming out of that country doesn’t stem from Swedes’ particular openness to embracing cutting-edge music, Li assures me. “Definitely not, and this is what’s interesting. I’m not very big in Sweden, you know. I play a couple of shows there a year. Small ones. I play much bigger sets elsewhere. A lot of the [Swedish] bands that are big in the rest of the world aren’t in Sweden. So I feel like there’s a lot of great talent in Sweden, but there’s definitely not a big crowd for this music, so that’s why we come from there.”

Her mellifluous tone and poignant songwriting have gone a long way for the worldly Li, who spent some time jamming in Brooklyn parks and at open mic nights, but is grateful that her ascending star now affords her the luxury of taking her art everywhere. “I always felt as though I didn’t really belong anywhere or I can’t really identify myself with one place. I see the whole world as one world, and I don’t really know where my home is; I guess I’ve always been very free. I never get homesick because I don’t have a home.”

The captivating performer, who’ll consider hand claps, echoes, sleigh bells, toy trumpets and just about every other instrument fair game for recording, is hesitant when asked whether creating art out of one’s melancholy necessarily makes it a cathartic experience. “I find it interesting because you always hear artists talk about how music is a therapeutic expression, but for me, of course I deal with all of those emotions through my songs, but the hurt doesn’t really go away. It’s more about making something out of it and being productive with it.”

And that she has. She’s overseen her music and videos from day one, resulting in international acclaim for her singular vision – whether it’s through the creepy silver-swimsuit-clad bodybuilders in “I’m Good, I’m Gone,” the sexed-out Prozac nation populating “Breaking It Up,” or the pared-down intimacy of a black-and-white address to the camera in “Tonight.”

But beyond the videos, “performing is above all else my first love,” she tells me, while donning some seriously stunning oversized eyewear. She’ll go on to deliver a flat-out electric performance, opening with the uplifting “Dance Dance Dance” and surprising the crowd with raucous renditions of both Lil’ Wayne’s “A Milli” and Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side.” Because with Lykke, one never knows what to expect.