‘Is this something I want?’: Tove Lo, pop’s messy genius, ponders motherhood and domesticity

She grew up in the northern suburbs of Stockholm, among family and friends who were progressive and open-minded. “It never occurred to me that saying I’m a feminist and I’m bi and being sexual were political. To me, that was just the baseline of what everyone should be. But when I started touring the world and going to places where that wasn’t the baseline, I realised, oh, maybe it is political.

“But in terms of how I choose to express myself – the bluntness, directness, and it being provocative to some people – I just think it feels good to express desire without being judged. Or even if you do get judged, just having the freedom to play with that anyway.”

Lo is speaking from her home in Los Angeles, following a brief stint in Stockholm where she’s been rehearsing for a coming world tour around her new album, Estrus. The biological reference behind the title is to a female animal “in heat” and ready to procreate.

It’s funny, and perhaps typically defiant, that just when the world has caught on to her trashy wavelength, Lo is pivoting. On Estrus, the pop star – on the verge of turning 39 – is singing about settling down and contemplating the logistics of having a child.

“I’m thinking about these things, but I’m in no way ready for it,” Lo explains. “I feel I’m being told by the outside world that I’m a grown woman now and I’m supposed to set roots and settle down and act accordingly and be responsible and have answers for everything, and I’m just not there at all. I’m still quite messy, and it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

Inspired by her long-term relationship with husband Charlie Twaddle – a Kiwi producer and creative director she married in 2020 – the album finds Lo contemplating domestic malaise, and the expectations around thirty-something women, with her usual brand of outrageous humour. On highlight I’m the Cake, her pent-up desire explodes to the point that she’s yelling at (presumably) her husband for taking for granted what he’s got at home: “Babe, I’m a pop star, did you just forget?” she sings with carnal frustration.