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Tag: 2023 albums

  • Kylie Minogue Eases the Tension in Fraught Times—Or Proves What Britney Said: “Keep On Dancin’ Till The World Ends”

    Kylie Minogue Eases the Tension in Fraught Times—Or Proves What Britney Said: “Keep On Dancin’ Till The World Ends”

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    Bathed in the glow of a green light on the cover of her sixteenth album, Tension, as she holds a diamond (“Chasing my diamond on the horizon,” she sings on “Vegas High”) over her right eye, it’s only expected that Kylie Minogue should have a song on the record called “Green Light.” Yes, she dares to title a song as such after what Lorde did with 2017’s “Green Light.” But Minogue can carry it off, earnest with her audience as she opens with the chorus, “Just give me the green light/And I can make you feel better/Spinnin’ ’round in circles I could do it forever.” Functioning as the first verse and a portion of the full chorus, Minogue later adds to the latter, “Let me be your highlight/Dancin’ all night together/Just give mе the green light/And I could be yours forevеr.”

    That exact setup has been what’s happening between Minogue and her fans for decades as she serves dance bop consistency no matter what’s going on in the world. With Tension, Minogue proves that being on the dance floor provides the ultimate tunnel vision to tune out whatever “bad time” is occurring outside of it. To open her audience up to that sentiment, Minogue begins Tension with her global smash hit, “Padam Padam” (what she’s referred to as being her second “Can’t Get You Out of My Head”). More than just a track that solidifies how Madonna paved the way for female pop stars to sing about “frivolous twenties shit” at any age, it is an invitation into the escapist world of Tension. Granted, all of Minogue’s albums provide that kind of escapism, it’s just that it seems as though it’s never been more needed as a numbing agent than now. Indeed, as Minogue reminds her listeners, “now” is all we have. So why waste it intensifying anxieties about the latest environment-related catastrophe or dictatorial derangement? At least, that’s what it sounds like on the second track, “Hold On To Now.”

    With its 00s-era dance floor sound, Minogue transports us back to a time and place when things felt more carefree (even when people didn’t think it could possibly get worse than George W. Bush). But just because the sound is carefree doesn’t mean Minogue avoids getting “way existential” as she sings, “Baby, what are we holdin’ on to?/Baby, where do we wanna run to?/Oh, we’ll figure it out somehow-ow-ow/Keep holdin’ on to now, now/Dreamin’ we’ll be dancin’ forever/Floatin’ on this feeling together.” As though addressing the time prior to when the pandemic forced everyone to stop in their tracks and “reassess” (before getting right back to capitalism and the “tenets” of it that will inevitably furnish yet another pandemic in the near future), she says, “We’re all just goin’, goin’ ’round/So where we goin’, goin’ now? (hold on to now)/The world could all be fallin’ down (hold on to now)/But we’ll be holdin’ on to now.” Spoken like the Britney Spears of 2012 when she urged, “Keep on dancin’ ’til the world ends/If you feel it, let it happen/Keep on dancin’ ’til the world ends.” Because, really, what else can you do? Certainly not make a concerted effort to change the behavior that will lead to the world’s end (or rather, the end of humans). Which is why, when Minogue assures, “We’ll figure it out somehow,” what she really means is: people will be forced to learn to live with the discomfort that they assisted in creating. 

    Like “Hold On To Now,” “Things We Do For Love” also has an accompanying visualizer video. One in which she returns to the 70s aesthetic of her Disco album (far more tired and less listenable than Tension) by way of a sequined jumpsuit. And yet, the sound of the song is pure 80s (as Minogue put it, “It’s got a bit of a Footloose feel”), filled with the kind of hopeful synths and blithe notes that betrayed how dark the decade actually was. Which just goes to show that, in the darkest times, people still want to believe in the possibility of a light at the end of the tunnel. With its Springsteen-y intonation (sonically speaking), Minogue chants, “Should I stay?/Should I go?/Maybe you could be my unconditional/Oh, there’s nothin’ that I wouldn’t do/For love, for love, the things we do for love/Tell me, how far would you go?/When you hear our song come on the radio.” The latter line reminding us that Minogue’s music still exists in a realm where people listen to the radio (and not some kind of streaming platform). And one where toxic relationships are still romanticized. For she alludes to such toxicity in the first verse with, “Every time (every time)/That you come close, I can’t shake it/Oh, the feelings that I have/Oh, we’re never done.” How Katy Perry in “Never Really Over.”

    But one thing she’s truly never done with is bringing the masses dance-pop perfection. To that end, “Tension” (arguably more of an earworm than “Padam Padam”) is among the most standout songs of the album…and not just because Minogue wields sorbet and chili as similes in her verses. Opening with “piano stabs” that reek of 90s club culture, the hyper-sexualized lyrics of the single also serve to transport us through time. Specifically, to an era when people were actually more sexual and less repressed (apparently, only on the dance floors of 90s nightclubs). This being why Minogue seems determined for the musical tone to mimic the lyrical reference to orgasming, describing how “with the piano stabs, it takes you up and up, closer and closer to the climax, it gets so edgy…then it drops.” The effect is one that will definitely have listeners playing the song on repeat. 

    What follows is another upbeat, uptempo track that does, not so coincidentally, bear similarities to something out of the Daft Punk canon. For Minogue takes another risk on naming a song the same way as an iconic track that already came before: “One More Time.” Although she can’t one-up what Daft Punk did with that title, the track is a solid enough dance ditty. And, like most of the songs on Tension, it’s co-produced by Biff Stannard, Duck Blackwell and Jon Green, lending a dance floor cohesion to the record that wasn’t present on Disco. She even gives a nod to her album title and cover in the lyrics of this song, urging, “Release the pressure, ah, you know it’s special when we/Slow down, shake it all out.” For, as she remarked of featuring a diamond on the cover, “The diamond is a subliminal image: that of the creation of beautiful things under pressure. I think people could feel it through the cover, especially if they know how diamonds are made, that is to say, under the constraint.”

    And humanity, it would seem, loves to operate under the constraint of pressure-filled capitalism. A system that hardly leaves much time for romance, though it does sell the concept oh so well (simply look at the Jay-Z and Beyoncé campaign for Tiffany & Co.)—just as Minogue does when she insists, “You know there’s somethin’ ‘bout you and me/One more time, one more time, one more time/Rewind it back, we got history/One more time, one more time, one more time.” Her frequent mentions of returning to the same person are present here, too (as it was on “Things We Do For Love”). As is the insistence on slowing down…a running theme in Minogue’s career (hear also: “Skip a beat and move with my body/Yeah/Slow”), despite the fact that her songs are created with a fast tempo. Even when they might start out, let’s say, “gently” enough. This is the case for “You Still Get Me High,” during which the mood of the record slows down briefly at the beginning of the track (while continuing to drip in the 80s musical tones that Minogue knows like the back of her hand). With an Arcade Fire-y/stadium performance vibe, it then picks up the tempo at the forty-eight second mark as Minogue belts the chorus, “Baby, baby, goodbye/Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh/Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh/Maybe it’s the moonlight/You still get me high (high)/Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh/Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh/Shine on me all night/You still get me high.” This, to be sure, is how her devoted listeners still feel about Minogue after all these years. Until she shows her penchant for releasing an occasional clunker onto the record. That assignation certainly applies to “Hands.”

    That’s right, here she goes again, naming a song after something another singer already made famous: Jewel with her own “Hands.” To boot, this is definitely the most cringeworthy song on the record. The reason why really boils down to one fatal flaw in the track: its pre-chorus. Resembling something that wants to emulate “white girl rap” but can’t quite achieve the delicate balance required to successfully execute it, Minogue faux raps, “Right, yeah/Everything I do is so right [not in this case, though], yeah/Barbie, I’m that cherry on top of the cake/All up in your face/I’m about to give you a taste.” Apart from the mention of Barbie, everything about these lyrics are completely irrelevant. Not to mention utterly cliche in the worst possible manner. At least Madonna went all-out in her daringness on the rap of “American Life.” Here, Minogue plays it safe while still flopping. Which is the worst possible way to flop. 

    But at least there is the consolation of the song that follows, the aforementioned “Green Light.” Having been given the green light for decades now, Minogue feels particularly in her element on this track, branding it as “a cousin to ‘Spinning Around’ [from 2000’s Light Years]—it’s not as overt, it’s quite breezy and chill.” That much is corroborated by the dazzling saxophone solo throughout. Because, again, Minogue is an unapologetic 80s girl. 

    Nonetheless, “Vegas High” finds Minogue going more “90s dance” again as she offers a pulsing beat to describe, “Losin’ track of time/We’re rollin’ on the night/And fallin’ to the sky/Make my eyes roll back when I feel that Vegas high.” Incidentally, Minogue had initially planned to call the album Vegas High to align with her More Than Just A Residency show at the Venetian in Las Vegas. Minogue eventually settled on Tension instead, choosing to ignore her fear that, with the world already being such a tense place as it is, people might not respond well to the title. Obviously, however, the masses are far more open to Kylie’s kind of tension than the tension wrought by political clashes.

    Swapping out a Vegas high for a regular one on “10 Out of 10” featuring Oliver Heldens, Minogue not only reminds us that she does constantly give us ten out of ten (save for the intermittent “mehs” here and there), but also returns to the sexually-charged lyrical tone of “Tension.” This much shines through when she teases, “Wanna kiss me where the sun don’t shine/Wow, wanna devour/Me boy, I might get wеt, bring a towel/After we’rе done, let’s hop in the shower.” And yet, since we already know how well Kylie can “do sex,” she seems to want to remind listeners of her more vulnerable side on “Story,” the song that closes the standard edition of the album. Coming across like an unwitting love letter to her fandom, Minogue announces, “You’re part of my story,” in addition to, “You said/Turn another page/Baby, take the stage/You know the stars are comin’ out for ya/Ebb and then they flow/Baby, feel the glow.” Which Minogue so clearly does throughout this levity-filled record.

    What’s more, as though wanting to reiterate that, no matter how 80s she is, her heart will always belong to the 70s, Minogue kicks off the deluxe edition with “Love Train” (yes, The O’Jays have a more well-known 70s single titled that). Another “catchy little ditty,” Minogue nearly ruins it by vaguely pronouncing Mario like “Mare-ee-oh” as she commences, “Ninety-nine lives, Super Mario/Wanna be with you and spend ’em all/I got a ticket to ride.” As we all do for this thing called the slow apocalypse. So it is that her post-chorus mimics the sound of a “choo-choo” as she croons, “Ooh, ooh, la-la-la-la-la” and later makes things innuendo-laden once more with the declaration, “All aboard my love train/I can take you to the moon in the fast lane/I need a passenger, baby, don’t wait/Yeah, you better buckle up, it’s a beautiful view.”

    As it is on “Just Imagine,” a song that was given to Minogue all the way back in 2006 for consideration on X. And, like The Weeknd saying, “I feel it coming,” so, too, does Kylie pronounce, “I can feel it comin’/Oh, my heartbeat’s out of my hands/Don’t what it is, but, oh/Just imagine/All these words I’m thinkin’/And I know that you understand/What if we could say ’em all?/Just imagine.” Being a song about “imagining,” the sonic landscape is accordingly suffused with a dreamy, lush tone that, to repeat, smacks of something straight out of the 80s. Just as the final track on the deluxe edition does. And, though Jefferson Airplane claimed it before, using already iconic song titles doesn’t faze Minogue if you couldn’t tell by now. Hence, concluding the album with “Somebody To Love.” On it, Minogue cautions of that bastard, Cupid, “One day, the arrow’s gonna get through/Nothing you can do, it’s automatic/You won’t know what you’re gettin’ into/But when it happens, it’s cinematic.” Until it just becomes full-stop dramatic amid the inevitable unraveling of the relationship. Nonetheless, Minogue warns that, like Dawson and Joey, you can’t control it when you end up going from “strangers to friends and to lovers/Open your heart [#MadonnaSaid] and let solo go/We could be good for each other/Don’t have to do it alone.” The irony of that statement being that it embodies both capitalist and anti-capitalist philosophies. For, on the one hand, Minogue reinforces the narrow-mindedness of monogamous yearnings and, on the other, alludes to how no man is an island a.k.a. Rand-ian objectivist.

    And yet, when the end comes (whether individually or collectively through a cataclysm), perhaps we’ll all find that it’s true what’s been said: you’re born alone and you die alone. So why not keep on dancin’ till the (or your) world ends to try to forget, as much as possible, that that’s the reality? Minogue being the great creator of an alternate one through her dance-ready distractions on Tension.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Love Is Like A Drug-Addled Rollercoaster on Ellie Goulding’s Higher Than Heaven

    Love Is Like A Drug-Addled Rollercoaster on Ellie Goulding’s Higher Than Heaven

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    Like so many musicians forced into seclusion during the pandemic, Ellie Goulding was “inspired” (for lack of a better word) by COVID-19. Or, to put it more delicately, Higher Than Heaven is “a response” to Miss Rona. And a defiant one. For, also like many other musicians, Goulding decided the world needed something “uplifting” after going through that collective trauma. One that most have conveniently tried to block out of their minds (though that could also unwittingly be in preparation for the next invariable pandemic).

    The arrival of her fifth record was announced at the end of 2022, with multiple pushbacks from its originally intended release date (February 3rd) until finally coming out on April 7th. The exuberant album proved itself to be worth the wait. And, although Goulding cited Higher Than Heaven as being her least personal music to date, she still felt obliged to add, “[The record is] about being passionately in love. But it’s a hyper form of love, almost like a drug-induced feeling. It feels almost artificial and there’s the potential for a crash.” How very Charli XCX. Or Taylor, for that matter. To that end, Goulding kicks off the auditory odyssey with “Midnight Dreams,” a mid-tempo dance track that finds Goulding jubilantly admitting, “[You’re] all I think about/You’re my energy/Feel you all around/Electricity/Take me, let’s fly away/Midnight dreams/Every time you’re next to me.” Whatever is actually meant by “midnight dreams” as a phrase is ultimately left to the listener’s discretion, but maybe, like Swift, Goulding senses something magic in the potential of midnight—that strange and brief in-between point betwixt day and night…before a directional shift in tone is made permanent.

    Having fallen down the rabbit hole of love on “Midnight Dreams,” it’s only natural that Goulding would wish for a “Cure for Love” on the second track. And yes, it’s here that we can definitely see the pandemic’s influence on the record as she engages in the language of sicknesses and antidotes to declare her strength and independence (not unlike Bebe Rexha on “Call On Me” from Bebe, albeit without the illness metaphor). As though she just got off a fresh bout with corona, Goulding sings, “I can’t fight the fever in my veins/The weakness in me always calls your name/Quiet, but my heart beats like a drum/Here’s to bein’ lonely.” Loneliness being another sentiment that was felt pervasively throughout the pandemic, but then eventually embraced, for better or worse—lest one succumb to total madness. Because, among other stark realizations forced by the lockdown measures of COVID, the most pronounced was the idea that people need to learn to be okay being on their own, even when society assures, “We’re in this together.” So it is that Goulding relishes her own self-sufficiency as she says with upbeat fervor, “I don’t need a cure for love, I’m movin’ on/Given too much, didn’t get enough/Sick, but not broken-hearted tonight/I don’t need a cure for love, yeah, I’m the one/Given too much, didn’t get enough/Sick, but I’m gettin’ started tonight.”

    She’s also just getting started on the record’s danceable rhythms as she segues into “By the End of the Night,” a song dripping with nostalgia as a result of its 80s-esque tincture. Produced by Stephen “Koz” Kozmeniuk, something about it echoes the vibe and feeling of Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer,” except not quite so colored in bittersweetness. Goulding also speaks to that aforementioned “hyper form of love, almost like a drug-induced feeling” as she croons on the chorus, “By the end of the night, I wanna feel like the sky is drippin’ on every part of me/And by the end of the night, I wanna look at the lights [Goulding loves lights, as we know]/Chasin’ the shape of you next to me/And by the end of the night I wanna be the only onе in the world [so does Rihanna]/When I look in your eyеs I see you’re mine.” The drug-addled sensation of this initial phase of falling in love is further played on by Goulding when she adds, “Is it love?/Call it chemical/The way you touch, so unforgettable/Feel the rush, I don’t wanna sleep/With fever dreams when I’m with you.” There’s that word again: “fever.” Surely on the brain constantly while starting to work on this album amid corona restrictions.

    Perhaps this, in addition to seeking a “savior” (or “saviour,” as the British like to say), couldn’t help but be dominant forces amid the conditions of the pandemic. As such, “Like A Saviour” (such a Madonna-esque title) serves as the fourth song on Higher Than Heaven. The Joe Connor-directed video opens on a scene of seemingly nude bodies (but no, ‘tis nothing more than the illusion of flesh-colored bodysuits) as they proceed to writhe in rhythmic unison, as though collectively being born. Set against the backdrop of an abyssal desert, Goulding’s lyrics, “You’re leadin’ me out of the dark/Like a saviour/Shinin’ in my soul, oh-woah, oh-woah,” feel like yet another sign of the times as people search for anything or anyone they can turn to for “salvation.” Tinged once more with 80s-inspired beats, the co-production from Koz and Andrew Wells perfectly complements Goulding’s earnest vocals as she gratefully announces to her savior, “Suddenly, I feel I can let go/Of all the insecurities weighin’ me down/Now I’m ready to drown in you.” Throughout the video, alternating scenes of day versus night accent the notion of being led out of the dark, with the final frame revealing a sky that appears caught between day and night, perhaps another loose allusion to that “in-between time” of “Midnight Dreams.”

    Whether or not darkness comes her way in a relationship, Goulding insists that “Love Goes On.” A song that once more uses color as an analogy that only a drug enthusiast (or a synesthete) can fully appreciate. Commencing ambiently before the beat picks up, Goulding reveals, “Seein’ colors all around me/I don’t recognize the palette/Suddenly, I feel a change in me.” Although she might have stated this isn’t a “personal” album, the lyrics here seem decidedly geared toward her husband, Caspar Jopling. A man who, luckily, Goulding was already married to just before the lockdown happened so that she could enjoy the benefits of “quarantine partner.” Perhaps it was during this period in particular that she realized, “My love goes on and on/And on and on and on.” Devotion, loyalty, tout ça.

    So naturally, these sentiments transition easily into a single like “Easy Lover” featuring Big Sean. The track that started it all, in terms of inaugurating Goulding’s Higher Than Heaven era. Except that “Easy Lover” is more about the “bad” kind of devotion to a lover. One who will never really reciprocate emotions the way you need them to…yet you still keep going back to them regardless. This, of course, is what’s colloquially known as a “fuckboy.” Released back in July of ’22, Goulding commented of the song, “I wrote ‘Easy Lover’ about five years ago in Los Angeles. I was with Greg Kurstin, one of my favorite producers of all time, and Julia Michaels, who’s an amazing songwriter. I think one of us was dealing with a known fuckboy at the time, but we ended up with a song about going back to the same person who’s hurt you and you think you can change them. We always say we can change someone, and we can’t.”

    Ergo Goulding’s lament, “It was never easy, lover/When you’ve given all you’ve got to each other/And then every time, it’s harder to recover.” Nonetheless, something within the human condition (read: frailty) keeps people repeating the same patterns in the naïve hope that it might be different another time around. The accompanying video for the single finds Goulding in a glass encasement, “on display,” as it were. Another one of her characters is a teacher turning to the drink for comfort during school hours—that school being in Bulgaria, where the video was shot by Sophia Ray. As for the premise, it involves the Goulding-portrayed characters attempting to take down a creature in some parallel universe…the undeniable representation of the creature that is: the fuckboy.

    The album’s title track, “Higher Than Heaven” (which Florence + the Machine gets close to with High As Hope), is perhaps the most emblematic of the record’s theme, with Goulding herself remarking, “No other title could’ve been better to use for the album to describe what’s going on here—which is just high-as-a-kite feelings of love and infatuation and you’re not coming back down anytime soon. I really like this song because it’s bloody high to sing but it just feels so sensual and so passionate.” That much comes across in the vocally layered repetition of “high” toward the end of the song, as well as Goulding’s pronouncement, “You take me higher than heaven above/Heaven above/You take me higher, blinded by your sun/Blinded by your sun/Oh, it hurts so amazing/My body, ablaze from this heat we’re creatin’ tonight.” The fact that Goulding constantly mentions night on this album, however, presumes that, perhaps in the light of day, feelings might not seem as intense as before.

    What’s more, as most know, the higher the feeling, the worse the comedown. Which is why the placement of “Let It Die” after “Higher Than Heaven” is so brilliant. Dissecting that point in a relationship when it’s become tantamount to beating a dead horse in the hope that it will miraculously start working again, Goulding gives the sound advice, “If you lose yourself, you can walk away.” She also adds to that logic, “…when there’s no more tears to cry/And you’re holdin’ onto love for life/I think it’s timе to let it die.” Production-wise, the backing music stands apart from other songs on the record as a result of the frenetic, frantic pace Lostboy gives to it. One that abruptly comes to a close as Goulding urges one final time, “I think it’s time to let it die.”

    From here Goulding shifts gears, going back to favoring the more “lavender haze” portion of a relationship. Or rather, the sex haze portion. As she talks about having waited for it and then finally getting it, we can deduce she’s referring to both “love” and “hot, hot sex.” The hotel-oriented motif of the latter is manifested in lyrics such as, “Bottles and mirrors/Don’t know where we both end/And were we begin/Original sin/Only linen and liquor.” The latter two making it easy to feel “drunk on love.” But again, one can’t help but ask how much of this love and its intensity is spurred by being closed off from reality, with Goulding referring to a dream state once more as she sings, “I want it again/In a sepia dream/In and out of your focus/Keep your vintage champagne/I’m only drunk on you.” Until, of course, the hangover arrives.

    The 80s influence reemerges anew on “Just For You,” courtesy of Greg Kurstin producing. On this particular number, Goulding returns to the sweeter side of love, announcing, “Yeah, I’ve got a heartbeat just for you/Just for you, just for you/I’ve got a real thing just for you.” In contrast to other tracks on Higher Than Heaven, this one alludes to Goulding’s inability to move on from an old lover, suddenly understanding that, “It took somebody else to really, really know.” Or, as Goulding summed it up, “It took somebody else to make me realize how much my heart only beats for you.” Goulding conceded that, while it might come across as somewhat self-indulgent, to be fair, she was inspired by Drake’s stylings for it.

    The closing track on the standard edition of the record, “How Long,” continues the themes of both “Easy Lover” and “Just For You.” At least in the sense that Goulding expresses yearning and hopefulness for returning to a relationship that the other person doesn’t necessarily seem quite as interested in revisiting. Or, if he is, he’s far more “take it or leave it” about the affair than Goulding. Of course, like so many women addicted to toxic men, Goulding insists that his actions surely can’t mirror his “true feelings” as she sings, “You’re makin’ it look easy/In the morning when you leave me/But we both know you rеally need me/Making excuses just to see mе.” To this point, Goulding admitted of the lyrical composition, “I’m singing about somebody who I think is probably missing me. Quite presumptuous.” Elsewhere, she speaks to the on-again, off-again nature of toxic relationships (so often a symptom of young love), describing, “To last time, to the next time/We can’t let it go/Feels right, but it ain’t right/We just can’t say no/Last time’s like the first time/We can’t let it go tonight.” Giving in to the “Temptation”—this, incidentally, being the track that commences the deluxe version of Higher Than Heaven.

    Suffused in 80s electro beats (meets a dash of power ballad), Goulding wields the analogies of drugs and dreams all over again to describe the high she’s on from love. So it is that she paints the picture, “LSD and lemonade/Your sweetness makes my body ache/You’re in the car, I’m drivin’, someone cut the brakes/Got that California dreamin’/Never wanted someone like I want you, babe/And I don’t know if I can take this.” But of course she will. She wants that love high no matter what the price to pay might be later.

    In full-tilt 80s mode and not apologizing anymore, “Intuition” continues the sonic landscape of “Temptation,” but with a more overt incorporation of Janet Jackson and The Weeknd influences. Her repetition of previous words and phrases from the album puts her firmly in the territory of Taylor Swift and Lana Del Rey, the songwriting experts on such techniques for “world-building.” Thus, Goulding keeps bringing dreams, fantasies (helped along by drugs when the opportunity arises) and the midnight hour into the equation with, “I’ve got an intuition/Flashin’ like a diamond in a dream/Livin’ in a full-time fantasy/I’m into you instinctively/I’ve got an intuition/I can see your outline in the dark/Lookin’ like a midnight work of art.” This last line, too, leaves room for listener interpretation. For a work of art being glimpsed at midnight presumes that one is probably trying to steal it…only to end up dealing with the likely fallout of such an act.

    The suggestively titled “Tastes Like You”—not as tailored to a Hannibal Lecter dining experience as you might think—explores the idea that, although you know you’re going to be happier in the long run without someone, the pain of losing them in the present is almost unbearable. Tame Impala also explored the concept on 2015’s “Eventually,” with Kevin Parker warbling, “If only there could be another way to do this/‘Cause it feels like murder to put your heart through this…/But I know that I’ll be happier/And I know you will too…/Eventually.”

    Goulding promises herself something similar via the lines, “‘Cause I’m over your touch/But I know it’s never enough/I let go, but I still got caught up/This drink will always be bittersweet/So I’m gonna raise one more glass to the times that we had/I know that we’re both happier, it’s true/But the heartache still tastes like you.” So yes, as overtly foreshadowed during the highs of Higher Than Heaven, the lows feel just as strong, if not worse by the end of the album (perhaps that’s why the cover features her sinking toward an ocean bottom, rather than being raised up into the sky).

    Maybe she’ll even find a “Better Man.” Except that, despite this song’s potentially misleading title, it’s actually about Goulding being the better man. And certainly better than any man who might try to underestimate her worth. It’s here that the fantasy and illusion she reveled in from earlier are shattered as she asserts, “Rose-tintеd glasses, but trust me, I’m seeing red.” Written in the wake of #MeToo, Goulding’s fresh anger and simultaneous sense of empowerment is made apparent as she accuses, “Took the confidence I had/You can watch me take it back/I’m the future and the past/That’s a perfect hourglass/Tried to make me lose my cool/Hold my karma in my hands/Every time I get a chance/Baby, I’m a better man.”

    Hence, from the codependency of the beginning of the record, we find ourselves at “All By Myself” by the finale. And, although it’s hard not to think of Celine Dion as a result of that title, it’s actually Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence” that Goulding samples. Quite a coup considering the band has never previously given permission to use one of their songs to anyone else. Proof that Goulding has earned every right to say, “I’m doin’ it, doin’ it all by myself/I’m movin’ it, movin’ it all by myself/I’ll be my own motivation/I’ll listen to nothin’ they’re sayin’/I’m lovin’ me, lovin’ me all by myself.” Which is, as the old trope goes, the first step in being loved by someone else, with self-love and romantic love being yin and yang concepts examined throughout Higher Than Heaven.

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Be(be) Aggressive…With Your 70s Influence: Bebe Rexha Relies on a Go-To Pop Formula for Her Third Album

    Be(be) Aggressive…With Your 70s Influence: Bebe Rexha Relies on a Go-To Pop Formula for Her Third Album

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    For whatever reason, Bebe Rexha’s nonstop bop of a sophomore album, Better Mistakes, landed with a thud on the Billboard 200 when it was released back in May of 2021, debuting at #140 and fizzling out from there. Almost a full two years later, evidently taking that album name to heart, Rexha has decided to keep making “better mistakes” with her third record, Bebe (a self-titled record in the tradition of Whitney or janet. or even Britney Jean). As if her pop hits of the past were ever really “mistakes.” Nonetheless, the point is, she’s willing to keep “plugging away” and experimenting to see what works and what doesn’t with audiences. Except that there’s not much in the way of “experimentation” on this particular record, as it’s somewhat apparent she wasn’t feeling quite as “adventurous” with regard to the concept behind it. For, as so many before her, she was “inspired” by “70s retro style.” To hit listeners over the head with that trope, Rexha doesn’t just rely on the sounds of the decade, but the visuals as well. Hence, an album cover that sees her in full feathered hair mode à la Farrah Fawcett. Of course, Madonna was already resuscitating that look/70s sonic trend in 2005 with Confessions on a Dance Floor. But sure, everything old can always be made “new” again. Kylie Minogue also recently made a similar maneuver with Disco in 2020, albeit with a less favorable outcome than what Rexha pulls off on Bebe.

    Kicking off with the first single, “Heart Wants What It Wants” (and, speaking of Selena Gomez songs, Rexha actually did write a song for her—2013’s “Like A Champion”), the tone of the album is immediately established as “sassy” and “playful.” The video to accompany it also finds Rexha making no apologies for emulating Madonna’s aforementioned Confessions on a Dance Floor era by styling Rexha’s hair with what M would call the perfect “weenie roll” curls and leotard. Opening in a way that reminds one of Ti West’s X as Rexha hops into the back of an ultra molester-y 70s van with a film crew, the Madonna correlation further manifests in the fact that the video is directed by Michael Haussman, known for his work on Madonna’s companion videos, “Take A Bow” and “You’ll See.” It’s clearly not a coincidence, as Rexha gushed openly about Madonna on the red carpet at the Grammys on February 5th, citing “Hung Up” as her favorite track of all-time from the Queen of Pop. Two weeks later, the release of the video for “Heart Wants What It Wants” made that all the more obvious as she re-creates M’s leotard and heels look (rounded out by a pair of purple tights) inside the living room of a house with a lodge-like aesthetic (the aesthetic of houses in the 70s, for some arbitrary reason). The difference is, Rexha has the film crew capturing her entire dance (not to say that Madonna doesn’t have the same thing happening in “Hung Up,” it’s simply that we’re not supposed to know it; there’s no “meta” element at play in her dance studio—it’s just her against the mirror…and the music, as Brit would say).

    Rexha’s filmed choreography segues into what we eventually come to see as a rehearsal for a more elaborately-staged (and costumed) performance later on. The crew’s errant signs of titillation make it seem as though they’re filming a porno (again, very X) rather than a fully-clothed dance session. Or maybe there’s just something about 70s aesthetics and camera crews that make everything seem porn-y. In any event, as Rexha shrugs, “My heart only wants what it wants, what it wants, what it wants/‘Til it doesn’t I can’t promise you love it was love, it was love, it was love/‘Til it wasn’t.” So despite her “vintage stylings,” Rexha conveys a very modern take on “love.” And yes, Rexha additionally appears to want to further align herself with Selena Gomez by not only naming this song similarly, but also channeling the 70s spirit of Gomez’s 2017 video for “Bad Liar,” complete with her own “modern” take on the decade (a.k.a. a lesbian tryst).

    The following song on the album, “Miracle Man,” finds Rexha adopting a tone that makes her sounds all too familiar. By the time the chorus rolls around—“I need a miracle man to make me believe in love again/Who can make me believe in lovе again/Say amen (yeah), amen (yеah)/‘Cause a woman like me ain’t easy to please”—one finally understands that said “familiarity” stems from how much she sounds like Ellie Goulding (and maybe she partially learned how to emulate Goulding while opening for her on 2016’s Delirium World Tour). Making for yet another pop star lending herself to the strong undercurrent of influences on Bebe. But, of course, mainly Madonna. And as Madonna would, Rexha wields religious analogies throughout this song, with her unlikely Miracle Man being akin to something in the vein of achieving “spiritual ecstasy.” Thus, comparing this man to a being as mythic as God when she demands, “Gimme faith, gimme faith, gimme faith, gimme faith in you/‘Cause I’d rather be lonely than the wrong one, hold me, baby.” Kali Uchis says pretty much the same thing on “Loner” (“That’s why I’d rather be a loner/Yeah, I’d rather be alone/I don’t even want to know ya/I don’t want to be known”). For it’s becoming an evermore common declaration among women who would prefer not to settle for less merely for the sake of “settling down” (hear also: Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers”). Rexha further drenches us in sexual-religious innuendo when she urges, “Push me up against the wall and make me glow/Drink your holy water, sip it slow/I can feel you drippin’ down my soul.” Madonna would surely approve of such lyrical content, with the sentiments matching her own on a track like 2015’s “Holy Water.”

    “Satellite,” the third official single from Bebe, was fittingly released on 4/20. After all, not only does the song feature Snoop Dogg, but it’s also an ode to being “high as a satellite.” Granted, probably not as high as one of Elon’s. Produced by Joe Janiak (who, yes, has worked with Ellie Goulding), the uptempo rhythm of the song is not exactly in keeping with “stoner pace,” but to honor “the lifestyle,” Rexha was sure to make the accompanying video as trippily animated as possible. Think Dua Lipa’s “Hallucinate” (which itself owes an aesthetic debt to Madonna’s “Dear Jessie”). But also The Jetsons…and Rexha’s animated form does certainly look very much like Jane Jetson with feathered blonde hair. Beamed up into a spaceship thanks to some help from Snoop (who knows all about interplanetary travel), Rexha finds herself in a bong-shaped vessel with little bud-shaped crew members who sometimes more closely resemble turds than nugs. But what do such details matter when you’re “high as a satellite”? And, since David Bowie is the original “Spaceman,” it’s only right that Rexha should give a nod to “Space Oddity” by saying, “Ground control, do you copy?” And so, weed gets another loving homage placed into the annals of pop culture—though “Satellite” still has nothing on Smiley Face.

    Rexha switches gears back to obsessing over love (or at least lust) with a human rather than an inanimate drug on “When It Rains.” Considering Rexha’s sexual-spiritual innuendos on “Miracle Man,” it should come as no surprise that this particular track is merely an analogy for orgasming. Hence, the chorus: “When it rains/I’m a tidal wave on a midnight train to you/When it rains/You’re like God to me, we found heaven in a hotel room.” Sounds similar to finding love in a hopeless place. Elsewhere, Rexha pulls from the Peaches playbook by announcing, “I just wanna go off in the backseat/You love makin’ me scream/Let’s fuck all the pain we’ve been through/When it rains, only when it rains/I come right back to you.” Translation: when she gets conned into forgetting about all his other bad behavior thanks to his ability to make her cum, she can’t help but keep returning for more. ‘Cause when it “rains” for a woman, it pours good fortune for a man. The fortune of all his other shortcomings being excused thanks to his dick-maneuvering abilities. As Madonna once phrased it in her own rain-drenched insinuation, “I’m glad you brought your raincoat/I think it’s beginning to rain.” Capisci? ‘Cause, like Bebe, she’s about to cum.

    However, when a man inevitably fails to deliver (usually both sexually and emotionally), Rexha is more likely to “call on herself” for “self-satisfaction.” Again promoting the sologamist philosophy “trend” that kicked off around the time when Ariana Grande released “thank u, next,” Rexha insists throughout “Call On Me,” “If I need a lover/Someone to hold me/Satisfy all my needs/If I need a lover/Someone to save me/Someone to set me free I call on me.” As Kali Uchis puts it on “After the Storm,” “So if you need a hero/Just look in the mirror/No one’s gonna save you now/So you better save yourself.” That applies to self-pleasure as much as anything else. With production from Burns (who previously worked with Rexha on 2021’s “Sacrifice,” in addition to providing some of the best offerings on Lady Gaga’s Chromatica), the danceable beats add to the celebration of self-sufficiency that dominates the second single of the album (though no video was released to go with it). As an added dig, Rexha informs the person she ditched in favor of herself, “You never made me feel like heaven/Never made me feel this high.” For just as much as one can “break their heart themselves” (as Bebe would say), they can also boost their own mood and ego better than most others can.

    Rexha keeps the party vibe going with “I’m Good (Blue)” featuring David Guetta—the song that brought her out of hibernation at the end of summer 2022. Sampling from Eiffel 65’s 1998 hit “Blue (Da Ba Dee),” Rexha continues the trend (unfortunately also embraced by Kim Petras and Nicki Minaj on “Alone”) of repurposing 90s dance music for the next century. And yet, something about the message and delivery of the song reminds one of a ditty Black Eyed Peas would come up with (think “I Gotta Feeling” but less embarrassing) as she asserts, “I’m good, yeah, I’m feelin’ alright/Baby, I’ma have the best fuckin’ night of my life/And wherever it takes me, I’m down for the ride.” Even if that ride leads her to do a one-eighty with regard to the sentiments she expressed on “Call On Me,” which is exactly what happens on “Visions (Don’t Go)”—revealing Rexha at her neediest. Unapologetically begging, “Baby, please, baby, please, baby, please don’t go/Stay with me, stay with me ‘cause I need you close/Every second you’re gone, my whole world turns cold.” At least Camila Cabello made this sentiment sound slightly “cuter” on “Don’t Go Yet” from Familia (and apparently it was cute enough to eventually lure Sam Mendes back in), urging, “Oye, don’t go yet, don’t go yet/What you leavin’ for when my night is yours?/Just a little more, don’t go yet.”

    The theme of “Visions (Don’t Go)” (the title driving the Camila connection further home) transitions easily into “I’m Not High, I’m In Love,” a song that starts out with a symphonic timbre that echoes the one on Dua Lipa’s (yet another Albanian pop princess) “Love Again” (which samples White Town’s “Your Woman”). In fact, one could argue that Bebe is Rexha’s attempt at her own version of Future Nostalgia. The 70s-infused dance tracks and Madonna inspiration also being part of the latter’s “mood board.” As for “I’m Not High, I’m In Love,” like Tove Lo before her insisting, “Baby listen please, I’m not on drugs/I’m just in love,” Rexha, too, wants to make sure people know, “I’m not high, I’m in love/I’m on fire, you’re my drug…/Now I see the colors dancing all around the room/Kaleidoscope of lovers and it led me back to you.” Layered with instrumental breaks that make it perfect for dancing (while probably on drugs) beneath the disco ball, Rexha, with the help of producer Ido Zmishlany, re-creates the feeling of being in love through the complement of the lyrics and sound. And yes, love (whether reciprocated or unrequited) often feels like a drug-addled (or drug withdrawal) sensation that perhaps only Tove Lo knows how best to reproduce in a song medium (hear also: “Habits [Stay High]”).

    The disco tinge persists on “Blue Moon” as Rexha keeps waxing poetic on the topic of, what else, being in love (good dick evidently wipes the sologamy entirely out of a girl’s mind). But instead of remaining entirely disco, an array of guitar stabs toward the end vary up the sound more than anywhere else on the record. Titled “Blue Moon” in honor of that beloved expression, “Once in a blue moon…” Rexha sings, “Tell me how I could live without you/When a love like this only comes once/So tell mе how I could breathe without you.” For those wondering at this point in the record, after so many effusive love songs, if Rexha actually is in love, the answer is an emphatic yes. As she told Rolling Stone, “I’m in love. That’s all you’re gonna get to know.” But modern life being what it is, those who want to know are aware that the person she’s referring to is Keyan Safyari, a cinematographer she’s been dating since 2020, and who also directed the video for “Satellite.”

    Perhaps the reason such details fly under the radar, however, is because Rexha suffers from what is little known as Rita Ora Syndrome (and, funnily enough, the two did collaborate together on 2018’s ill-advised “Girls”). Meaning that despite constantly putting out a steady stream of hit singles, she’s still not considered very “mainstream.” As though that strange phenomenon didn’t connect Ora and Rexha enough, both were born to Albanian parents (though Rexha’s mother was born in the United States). Rexha’s “lack of fame” is among the subjects she’s publicly acknowledged of late, along with the commentary about her weight gain. Which came on the heels of Ariana Grande’s anti-body shaming video (despite the celebrity-industrial complex—and capitalism itself—thriving on the shaming of bodies, whatever the current trends in shape might be). Indeed, Rexha even said seeing that video moved her to tears, especially the part where Grande mentions that you never know what someone is going through that might make their body look a certain way that’s deemed “unhealthy” by the public. It struck a chord with Rexha, whose own weight gain has stemmed in part from being on meds to treat her polycystic ovary syndrome.

    That and her newfound love of weed is surely at least part of what has her in such a reflective mood, particularly when the pace slows its roll on “Born Again.” An apropos title considering Bebe is her bid for a Billboard success do-over after Better Mistakes. More of a cheesy 90s power ballad than anything resembling a song from the 70s, Rexha opts to take some of Lana Del Rey’s key phrases for this particular song—such as, “We were all born to die” and “You should come meet me on the flipside.” For those unversed in Lana, the first lyric smacks of “Born to Die” and the second of a lesser-known song from Ultraviolence called “Flipside” (wherein she says, “Maybe on the flipside I could catch you again”). Even her talk of “Heaven” (“Forget the afterlife/Who needs Heaven when you’re here tonight?”) is out of the Lana playbook, what with LDR often crooning sweet nothings like, “Heaven is a place on Earth with you” and “Say yes to Heaven/Say yes to me.” In any event, Rexha’s bottom line in this song is: “Every time you kiss me, I’m born again.”

    But every time Rexha veers too far over on the codependency side of things, she reins it back in—as she did with “Call On Me.” To return to that defiant sort of independence, Rexha provides “I Am” as the penultimate track on Bebe. Just as Miley Cyrus with “Wonder Woman” or Halsey with “I Am Not A Woman, I’m A God” or Dua Lipa with “Boys Will Be Boys,” Rexha affirms the complexity and overall superiority of the “fairer” sex as she proclaims, “But I am a woman, I am a rebel, I am a god/I danced with the devil/I am a lover, I am a legend/If I am everything, why am I not everything to you?” The message of empowerment geared toward women is obvious—and was, unsurprisingly, incited by the overturning of Roe v. Wade. A totally out-of-left-field Supreme Court decision that got women everywhere thinking. About their rights, their continued status as second-class citizens and how things could potentially become so much worse as a result. The ripple effects of misogyny that might be allowed to thrive anew within this context. Ironically, it was in the 70s—the decade so many female pop stars like to turn to for sonic salvation on their own modern-day records—that Roe v. Wade granted women abortion rights in the first place. As for Rexha, the overturning of the case prompted her to take a scrutinizing look at her Albanian background, a culture, she admits, where “the men eat first. The men speak. It’s all about the men, and then the women come in.” If there’s still any oxygen left to breathe.

    So it is that she derides of the invisible male she’s addressing on “I Am,” “Don’t wanna go all in/But too afraid to let me go/I guess devourin’ all the power is all you’ve ever known/You’re sittin’ on an empty throne.” One throne that has never remained empty, however, is the country-pop one—reigned over long-standingly by the adored Dolly Parton. And, despite “Seasons” being more influenced by Stevie Nicks, it is Parton who joins Rexha on it (so yeah, Rexha achieved a few collab dreams on Bebe).

    An appropriate choice for closing the record, “Seasons” is a melancholic lamentation on the passage of time. To be sure, there is something “Dolly-esque” about Rexha’s vocal intonations (particularly on this single), so it’s not totally astounding for her to collaborate with the country icon for “Seasons.” To boost the single, Rexha shot a black and white video with Dolly, directed by Natalie Simmons, during which the pair stands side by side singing into their microphones. The shots alternate between scenes of the duo dressed in black or white ensembles (you know, to match the black and white film) as they croon, “I lie awake inside a dream/And I run, run, run away from me/The seasons change right under my feet/I’m still the same, same, same, same old me.” The reflection on time, in addition to the cadence of the vocals, also reminds one of Stevie Nicks as she sings on Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide,” “Time makes you bolder/Even children get older/I’m gettin’ older, too.” Except that Rexha wanted to explore a concept where, in spite of getting older and “knowing that you need to change… you’re not changing.” Ergo that “same old me” line. One that very much fits in with the current discourse on the disappearance of middle age. While generations technically get older, but keep embodying this sort of Peter Pan syndrome that baby boomers never had the luxury of implementing, is it really as bittersweet as it once was to watch “seasons change”? Or more fucked-up and Black Mirror-y than anything else?

    However Rexha truly feels about it, she might never truly let on. For the entire name of the game on Bebe is to be just generically accessible enough while never revealing too many specifics. It is in this way as well that Rexha synthesizes a hodgepodge of styles and even looks for this record (somehow managing to appear facially similar to Britney Spears on the cover, and facially similar to Lily Allen in the “Seasons” video), all while never totally losing her own distinct personality in the process. At the same time, she’s studied the industry long enough to hedge all her bets on following every pop formula by the book to resuscitate her clout after Better Mistakes.

    Already a chameleonic force in the pop arena just three albums into her career, it will be interesting to see what avenues Rexha swerves toward next—though one can only hope it maintains its EDM slant (for that’s what “going 70s” really means in the present musical landscape).

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    Genna Rivieccio

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