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Tag: FKA Twigs Madonna

  • FKA Twigs’ “Perfect Stranger” Offers Only Pros to Meeting Strangers, While Madonna’s “Beautiful Stranger” Is More Cautiously Aroused

    FKA Twigs’ “Perfect Stranger” Offers Only Pros to Meeting Strangers, While Madonna’s “Beautiful Stranger” Is More Cautiously Aroused

    Madonna as the titular character in Desperately Seeking Susan once said, “Good going, stranger.” It seemed, in its odd way, to presage a song of hers that would come out fourteen years later: “Beautiful Stranger.” While it was the lead single for a less than elegant movie, Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me, Madonna’s message on the track (which sounded like a holdover from the Ray of Light era, but was actually recorded the same year it was released, 1999) captures a timeless message: love at first sight. Or, at the bare minimum, lust at first sight. The thrill of initial attraction that can only come from not actually knowing someone. From being able to project all of your fantasies and expectations onto them. And yes, this is usually based on looks alone as opposed to “energy radiated.”

    At the time, Madonna’s inspiration for the song was reported to be Andy Bird, a British “regular person” posing as a “filmmaker” (which was a loose way of saying unemployed). Obviously, he was Guy Ritchie 1.0, a set of training wheels before Madonna unearthed a more legitimate Brit in the world of film. Nonetheless, you didn’t see Madonna being inspired enough by Ritchie’s looks to write such a song about him (instead, he got “Push”). Indeed, Bird typified the phrase “tall, dark and handsome” or, even better for Madonna’s songwriting purposes, “tall, dark stranger” (this being a common vague description for fortune tellers to assure, “You will meet a tall, dark stranger” [a cliché that Woody Allen turned into a title for one of his “late era,” particularly bad movies]).

    And yet, despite the attraction she feels for this stranger, Madonna knows that she’ll pay the piper later if she ignores her instincts about him being fundamentally dangerous. For, as it used to be said before the arrival of apps like Uber and Airbnb: “Stranger danger.” What’s more, some of Madonna’s most formative years were at the height of AIDS in the 1980s, when sex with strangers suddenly started to feel more dangerous than ever (regardless of being gay or not). This fear of the risk that came with “casual sex” (the latter practice seeming to reach a crescendo in the late 70s) is also inherent in Madonna’s 1993 video for “Bad Girl,” which riffs on the premise of Richard Brooks’ 1977 movie, Looking For Mr. Goodbar. Itself a cautionary tale of what can happen when one falls down the rabbit hole of meeting beautiful strangers almost every night (especially as a woman). And going home with them.

    With FKA Twigs’ latest single, “Perfect Stranger,” it’s difficult not to recall Madonna’s 1999 song also highlighting the agonies and ecstasies of encountering someone new (for sexual or romantic purposes, needless to say). Except that, in Twigs’ case, there seems to be no drawback whatsoever to a perfect/beautiful stranger. In fact, throughout the song, she riddles off all the ways in which keeping someone at arm’s length skillfully enough to remain a stranger is the hottest thing since latex. So it is that she sings, “You’re perfect, baby/My perfect stranger/You’re beautiful, you’re worth it/You’re the best, and you deserve it/You’re a stranger, so you’re perfect/I love the danger/You’re the perfect stranger.”

    In another instance of ostensible Madonna homage, Twigs ruminates at one point during the outro, “What is this human nature?/No answer, I’m infatuated.” Madonna’s own song, “Human Nature,” also has a video punctuated by Madonna and her backup dancers in “boxes” (just as the “Perfect Stranger” video is characterized by “box rooms”). Not to mention the same S&M aesthetic that Twigs wields during one particular “vignette” from the Jordan Hemingway-directed video.

    In contrast to Twigs’ lustiness in the song, Madonna approaches her stranger (and strangers in general) with much more cautious arousal. Which is why she self-deprecatingly says, “If I’m smart, then I’ll run away/But I’m not, so I guess I’ll stay.” She also notes that one has to have a predilection for the dangerous (as Twigs does) in order to give in fully to an attraction to a perfect/beautiful stranger, singing, “You’re some kind of beautiful stranger/You could be good for me/I have a taste for danger.” If one doesn’t have that taste, however, things could get dicey. From Madonna’s perspective, anyway.

    As far as Twigs is concerned though, “That’s okay with me/To live my life with some mystery/Please don’t say that I must know/And that’s alright, I say/We’re all getting through this our own way/I’d rather know nothing than all the lies/Just give me the person you are tonight.” Madonna, conversely, seems to want her expectations of the perfect/beautiful stranger to eventually pan out in some way once the two get to know one another more fully. Even if more than part of her expects to be disappointed…if the following lyric is anything to go by: “I looked into your eyes/And my world came tumblin’ down/You’re the devil in disguise/That’s why I’m singin’ this song to you.”

    But the reason Twigs is singing her song to her perfect stranger is to emphasize that disappointment can never come if you never truly get to know someone. Thus, the dual definition of “perfect stranger” to mean, on the one hand, simply “a total stranger” and, on the other, someone being “perfect” solely because they are a stranger, and one therefore doesn’t have any awareness of their “defects” yet. It’s also interesting to hear Twigs’ predilection for incorporating the sound of 90s house and dance music into the production, whereas Madonna’s song, actually made in the 90s, is deliberately intended to be more sonically reminiscent of music from the 60s. While this might have been because it was made for the Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me Soundtrack, there’s also another element at play: the idea that meeting a stranger in the 60s—especially the late 60s—was infused with just as much of a sense of danger as it was titillation, what with Cold War paranoia besetting everyone.

    In the here and now, Twigs’ chooses to ignore all the paranoia associated with the present (from catfishing to being scammed in some other egregious way) and play up the sheer romance of encountering a stranger, particularly on the dance floor. The not knowing is what makes it sexy rather than scary (“I don’t wanna have the anxiety/Please don’t say so I won’t know”). And besides that, “What we don’t know will never hurt.” Granted, it didn’t hurt Twigs to “meet” (a.k.a. invite) former stranger Madonna and “powwow” with her at the Central Saint Martins BA fashion graduation show back in 2022. Surely, that meeting of the minds might have helped with the genesis of “Perfect Stranger,” if Twigs happened to brush up on M’s back catalogue afterward. Not that she wasn’t already pole dancing to “I’d Rather Be Your Lover” and incorporating “Vogue” into live versions of “Give Up” well before the fashion show came along.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • FKA Twigs Reminds: Don’t Ever Fucking Work In An Office…Because You Might Not Experience “Eusexua” Long Enough to Escape It

    FKA Twigs Reminds: Don’t Ever Fucking Work In An Office…Because You Might Not Experience “Eusexua” Long Enough to Escape It

    In the annals of “office music videos,” there are very few. In the recent past, there have been the likes of Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” and Fifth Harmony’s “Worth It,” but these played with the idea of “office aesthetics” more than trying to “make a statement” about office work and its soul-crushing nature. And, in its way, that’s what FKA Twigs’ music video for her eponymous first single from Eusexua does. Except that it also incorporates the kind of message that Avicii and Nicky Romero’s 2012 hit, “I Could Be The One,” does in its own music video, where an office worker (played by Inessa Frantowski) endures the daily drudgery of her life—dominated mostly by the banal tasks she’s “required” to do for eight hours a day—until she gets the wake-up call to abandon it entirely (resulting in an ironically tragic denouement).

    In a similar fashion, we see a frantic FKA Twigs running into the generic office where she works at the outset of the Jordan Hemingway-directed “Eusexua.” Clearly, she’s dangerously tardy and doesn’t want to get caught. “You’re late,” the drag queen-esque co-worker who looks like Eartheater tells Twigs as she scurries into the fluorescently-lit space (and maybe it is Eartheater—after all, “Alexandra Drewchin” has a co-songwriting and co-producer credit on the track). Plopping down in her seat and taking off her glasses, Twigs barely has time to get her bearings before the boss man materializes to demand, “Have you got a second?” Reluctantly, Twigs says, “Yeah.” “Have you seen the new comments?” “I…haven’t. Were they on GroupSpace?” “No, TeamZone Chat.” Automatically, Twigs seems to be trolling the ridiculous names that get used in a corporate setting, all under the guise of “improving communication.”

    Frantic to accommodate her boss, Twigs tries to log in on her computer to see what’s what, only to keep getting an error message that makes checking her latest emails impossible. Meanwhile, her boss drones on, “We’re phasing out GroupSpace. Everything’s on TeamZone now.” “I’m really sorry.” “It’s fine. Loads have missed it. That’s why I’m standing here physically right now.” Before she can keep engaging in this banal conversation, the phone on her desk rings. Telling her boss “one second,” she answers it, ostensibly receiving some sort of hypnotic message that leads her into a state of what she calls “eusexua.” This being a term Twigs created to describe the feeling of transcending time, space and your body when you find yourself in a euphoric moment that can turn into hours passing without realizing it (this inspired by her clubbing period in Prague while filming The Crow—disastrous for her acting career, but great for continuing to spur her musical one). Indeed, that definition and the events that take place also recall Avicii’s video for “Levels” (he obviously understood how soul-sucking office [non-]life was, despite enduring the different kind of soul-sucking lifestyle entailed by being a world-famous DJ).

    And, evidently, whoever is calling her wants her to remember what that feeling is after she’s so clearly gone numb as a result of spending most of her time in an office setting (and for a company called “CroneCorp” no less). Her boss initially regards her with a strange look at the sight of her own bizarre expression while she listens to whatever is on the other side of the phone (an alien race seeking to remind humans that they’re wasting their potential on “busy work” for the sake of pay?). But then, he, too, is overtaken by eusexua, along with the rest of the office as they get into formation to perform what is sure to become among Twigs’ most iconic choreography—courtesy of Zoi Tatopoulos, “best known for her extraterrestrial approach to creative direction and movement choreography” (so maybe that alien theory holds weight). The accompanying Janet Jackson-y backbeat does not yet let us hear the actual song. Instead, we’re given a preview of “Drums of Death,” which is to be the fourth track on Eusexua. Thus, as though Twigs is speaking from the “head alien” perspective, we hear her voice command, “Listen, girl, drop your skin to the floor/Let your clothes body talk/Shed your skin/Rip your shirt/Flesh be torn/Feel hot, feel hard, feel heavy/Fuck who you want/Baby girl, do it just for fun.”

    It is after this mantra that everyone in the office really has shed their “skin” (a.k.a. work clothes) in favor of wearing solely their skivvies. The lyrics to “Drums of Death” then continue to play as Twigs asks, “Hello, what you like?/Do you wanna meet later?/Relax and ease your mind ‘cause you work so much/I know what you like, and you’re my main character/I’m here anytime, you can call me up.” And with the shedding of her “work skin,” as it were, Twigs is also the only one to be given what will now be known as her “Eusexua era haircut.” Which means a “semi-2007 Britney,” as only half of her head is shaved (the front part).

    Before Twigs and her fellow (erstwhile) office workers cease their dance, Twigs concludes it with the sound lyrical advice, “Crash the system, diva doll/Serve cunt, serve violence.” It is then that Hemingway focuses the camera on a computer keyboard with someone’s hand repeatedly tapping the same button before then panning downward to reveal the office in topsy-turvy mode, with its ceiling now showing signs of dirt and decay infecting the space—almost like a commentary on how fucking antiquated this type of work setup is. At the same time, it’s also a means of remarking on how humans need to literally get back to the earth. Away from all the trappings of so-called modernity that have turned them into automatons. At the “bottom” of the dirt-caked ceiling, Twigs is suddenly outfitted in a black, extraterrestrial-chic “ensemble” (mainly a pair of tights) just as the setting switches entirely and she’s pulled upward (or downward, depending on how you look at it) into an earthen backdrop—this moment somewhat mirroring her being pulled up into a new surreal setting during her famous “cellophane” video.

    Writhing in sexual unison with the former office workers who have joined her in this “state of being” (eusexua), they, too, look as though they’ve been ejected—birthed—from out of the dirt that was spilling into the office ceiling. And yes, this type of sexual writhing is something Madonna perfected during The Girlie Show via a performance of “Deeper and Deeper” that concludes with plenty of orgiastic flair (she perfected this writhing, once again, during her performance of “Justify My Love” for The Celebration Tour).

    Channeling the lyrics of Olive’s 1996 song, “You’re Not Alone” (during which Ruth-Ann Boyle assures, “You’re not alone, I’ll wait ’til the end of time/Open your mind, surely it’s plain to see/You’re not alone, I’ll wait ’til the end of time for you”), Twigs sings, “You’re not alone (under the stars)/Do you feel alone?/You’re not alone.” A statement that, although seemingly “simple,” still has plenty of importance and meaning to the many people who feel perennially lonely—even more so in this increasingly dehumanized world (and that sort of dehumanization was arguably refined with the advent of the office space).

    By the end of the video, Twigs has somewhat left the height of eusexua long enough to realize she’s still in the office (now back in her “professional” attire) as other co-workers appear to remain in a state of feral bliss. Seeming to remember where she is, Twigs also remembers that she probably shouldn’t stay in this hellhole another second…because she might not get the “eusexua call” again. The one that shook her out of her coma in the first place.

    Genna Rivieccio

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