Leslie Feist on her Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame induction: 'I'm uncomfortable with idolatry'

Leslie Feist is about to become a hall of famer and she's still wrapping her head around it. "Because of this laurel being dropped upon my head, I'll have to find a way to look back on my songs and speak about them," she said, only half joking that she might read this interview aloud as her acceptance speech.

The musician will be inducted into the Canadian Songwriters Hall of Fame on Saturday, September 26 at Massey Hall, alongside The Tragically Hip, Loverboy songwriters Mike Reno and Paul Dean, and Roch Voisine. The ceremony will feature tributes and performances from Canadian and global artists covering her songs.

Six albums into her career, Feist still finds herself writing, though the path hasn't always been straightforward. She came to songwriting young—first in a hardcore band, then by choice as a solo artist. "For whatever reason, songwriting became important to me when I was very young," she said. "So when I started my solo career, I was actually surprised that I had this language available to me."

Her breakout 2003 album Let It Die carried an unusual mix: half covers of artists like the Bee Gees and Ron Sexsmith, half originals. The covers weren't a lack of material—they were a strategy. Touring with Chilly Gonzales, she recorded in Paris with legendary producer Renaud Letang. "To ease my nerves, he said, 'Let's start with some covers!'" The shift in mindset worked. Walking through Kensington in the snow, she wrote "Let It Die" to herself, singing it repeatedly until she could record it on her answering machine (pre-cellphones). She brought it back to Paris. "Maybe the covers put me in a new state of mind—an unfamiliar version of myself. After recording that song, I trusted my other original works."

Over the years, her songs have travelled far beyond her. "Heated Rivalry" featured "My Moon My Man," and she's seen people from around the world covering it on Instagram. "It's a thrill," she said. "I've always dreamed that more people would cover me."

When asked if she still thinks of songwriting as "the least harmful selfish endeavour"—a phrase she once used—Feist acknowledged the tension between private creation and public performance. "Our society likes to attach idolatry to performance, and that's the part of the gig that has made me uncomfortable over the years. That may be the Calgary in me. I'll never get rid of that."

She also reflected on Toronto's lost concert venues. "I miss them. When I walk the streets of Toronto, I'll look at that Crate and Barrel at Queen and Bathurst, and..." she trailed off, gesturing to the absence. Those dirty concert halls along Queen West where she and her crew got started are mostly gone now, replaced by retail. The loss of affordable all-ages venues remains a sore point for the artist who came of age in that ecosystem.