There’s this girl in the corner and she’s small, really small, and she looks like a boy, and she’s seething with emotion, with rage and love - because she’s alone, because we’re all alone, because our parents didn’t get it. She just found out faster.

Her skin is thinner because her heart is bigger. Her heart pushes against the skin, stretching it, sometimes too much.

She is a bloodletter, this girl. “A bloodletter of emotion,” she says.

I think, given the right or the wrong moment, you are too.

“I’m like a singing banshee,” she says. “My music errs on the histrionic side, but that’s how I feel, you know, I try to just let it seep out because it just hurts me if I don’t. I put it all on the line, you know, I think I am possessed by the spirit of a gambler, the big wheel. I’ve put it all on red 27.” She could lose it all right now.

This is LP.

Born Italian. New York. You’ve got to understand that; the hottest blood, the toughest city, the smallest girl.