They felt borderline or blatantly misogynist. They did not feel like musical criticisms. There were certain criticisms made of us, early on, that felt unfair. But she was finding a way to work through, and I worked my way around. There were long stretches of our career where I felt Sara dwelled on meaningless things. TEGAN I never needed an external source to inspire me. A lot of my hangups or dysfunctions in relationships are based on our primary relationship as children - what worked for us, what didn’t, how difficult it was to share the same face. SARA A lot of people will say, “I have mommy issues” or “daddy issues.” I have Tegan issues. LIZ PELLY I think some twins learn early on that collaboration requires compromise and patience. When Tegan went through a punk stage and started getting tattoos everywhere, I was like, I’m going to wear tailored clothing. When Tegan would go through a dark stage, and be a little more chaotic, I would straighten up and be more disciplined. I would have balanced myself differently. SARA I wouldn’t be as extreme, if Tegan wasn’t Tegan. I often think: If you put us back together, we would be a perfect person. JENN PELLY As identical twins, we have strengths and weaknesses that are different but complementary. They frequently chipped at each other’s memories and perspectives to hone the truth and soon turned the questions on us: Did we ever feel competitive with each another, or encroached upon, as twins with the same career? These are excerpts from the conversation. The connective thread is the unguarded emotionality of a teenage perspective.ĭuring a conversation at a downtown cafe, Tegan was forthright and unapologetic, while Sara was analytical, using an app to astrologically survey our twin-by-twin dynamic. Some of the songs evoke the ’90s indie pop of the band’s Lilith Fair era, while others could be the seeds of electronic-dance bangers. And so “High School” is accompanied by a new album, “Hey, I’m Just Like You ,” featuring polished-up re-workings of those unearthed demos. While gathering their research for the book, Tegan and Sara found cassettes of some of their earliest songs. “If we don’t win tonight,” Tegan said onstage, “our mom is going to make us go to college.” They won. In the end, the twins competed in a life-changing battle of the bands. When a classmate spewed homophobic statements during a lesson on STDs, Sara hurled a chair across the room. They sneaked out to raves, dropped acid, fought authority. They discovered and explored their sexuality. Growing up in Canada, they worshiped Nirvana, Green Day and the Smashing Pumpkins. In their new memoir, “High School,” the Quin sisters alternate chapters to detail their teenage years. Reality grew ever more psychedelic, and we snapped a photograph of the six of us to commemorate it. And so where better to meet up with Tegan and Sara Quin - feminist pop heroes, freshly minted authors, and, like us, identical twins - than at a kaleidoscopic infinity room in Chelsea? As we left the small mirrored room at the kitschy Museum of Illusions, where our likenesses warped and refracted, we encountered a third set of twins. To be a twin can be a psychological house of mirrors.
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