Li promises each of the as-yet-unheard LIV songs will be different, though. “You can tell that we both spend our time between Sweden and California,” she says. “It has this Swedish melancholy in the melodies, but the soundscape was really influenced by Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk or Crosby Stills & Nash. It’s real music. We’re not trying to make it sound fresh or anything, just doing what feels good—live, analog, handmade. Pure.” Li adds that when she played one song for her dad, Johan Zachrisson, a veteran musician and film-score composer in his own right, he responded, “This is like Pink Floyd.” Expect a bit of a “prog vibe,” she hints. Still, a near-constant on the songs, Wyatt says, will be their two-part vocal harmonies—“almost like Everly Brothers style.”

Along with working on LIV, Wyatt has been touring with Miike Snow in support of their new album, iii, which arrived in March. He and Mark Ronson wrote the music for a 2012 ballet at London’s Royal Opera House, Carbon Life, which will get its first revival this November. Wyatt says he’s also been working with some “rock’n’roll OG legends” and others he can’t talk about yet. “I sound like Donald Trump!” he observes, then launches into a fairly credible impression of Trump. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I’ve been doing some great stuff with some really great people!”

Li has, if anything, been even busier. She’s writing new solo songs, for a follow-up to 2014’s powerfully stripped-down and heartbroken I Never Learn. “It’s very opposite,” she says of her latest material. “I feel like I’m always doing opposite things. LIV was very analog and ’70s, and now I’m accidentally doing pop, in a very non-shameful way.” She chuckles. “I started out pop by accident, and everyone was like, ‘Oh, you’re pop,’ and I was like, ‘No, I'm not! I'm indie!’ I got really offended. And then [I Never Learn] was like the least pop album ever. Then now I'm getting back to it and feeling like, Cyndi Lauper wrote some fucking amazing songs. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Li has also released her own brand of mezcal, Yola, and the agave-based liquor ties in well with the au naturale ethic behind LIV. “Mezcal was found by women and also agave as a plant they refer as a female plant,” Li enthuses. “So our process too, we only hire females on our farm. It's all handmade, organic, pure. And for the people who want to get jazzy, it's the best thing.”

Of course, Li and Bhasker have also been spending time with their young son, Dion. In August, Li shared video of the trio rehearsing a rendition of the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” for Bhasker’s brother’s wedding in Albuquerque. She’s thoughtful about the modern parent’s challenge of balancing privacy against the urge to share baby pictures on social media, made all the more difficult for a public figure. “I didn’t share anything about my child, but now—I don’t know. I’m just so in love, and also because I’m in L.A., and all my friends and family are in Sweden, I want them to see him,” she says. “I’m still conflicted about it.”

Nor is she finished with personal growth. Trilingual already (along with Swedish and English, she also speaks Portuguese), Li says she’d like to learn Spanish. And she dreams of someday writing a poetry book. But the obstacle she most recently overcame was closer to home, in more mechanically constructed—and more smoggy—environs than you might associate with her latest music, or with agave.

“I had to learn how to drive in L.A.,” Li tells me. “I failed three times on the test. It was such a part of my life to conquer the fucking freeway, and now that I'm doing it, I’m blazing on the freeway, listening to Steely Dan, and it's empowering.”