Indie Rock's Bewitching New Siren

It is in this way that Khan may turn out to be more than just a passing comet—less of a flameout pop star (like many of her outrageously clothed cohorts) and more of a gentle, needed cultural voice. In a time of high alert and anxiety, she is preaching something quite simple: a return to nature and to the self, and to indulging our prelapsarian childhood fascinations, whatever they may be. “I want everyone to feel peace of mind, settle into themselves and trust it,” she says. “Right now, in the media, there is mass hysteria and stress, and we have become addicted to being in a state of defensiveness all the time. Asking, are you going to hurt me, is this going to kill me, am I going to die of swine flu? Agh! I don’t know if this album is an escape from all that, but it is what I have learned.”

And what is that? “Well, we don’t need to freak out so much. This world is ancient. We are a tiny blip, everything dies and grows, we are all part of this eternal cycle of days and nights.” And as she sits picking at her cornichons and mustard, smiling with an inner glow that I can’t really understand but am mystified by, I feel newly connected to her. No wonder so many girls are willing to feather themselves for this: Achieving inner-peace may not be as simple as a song or even a glitter headband, but just by believing, Khan makes it seem entirely possible.

Rachel Syme is culture editor of The Daily Beast.