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Tag: Olivia Rodrigo all-american bitch

  • Olivia Rodrigo and the Myth of “Kennedy Class,” Or: The Kennedy Fallacy

    Olivia Rodrigo and the Myth of “Kennedy Class,” Or: The Kennedy Fallacy

    In keeping with the tradition of elevating the Kennedys to the height of glamor in American politics (which should be telling of how “glamorous” American politics is), Olivia Rodrigo’s opening track for Guts, “all-american bitch,” wields a more than somewhat false simile. Specifically, “I got class and integrity/Just like a goddamn Kennedy, I swear.” But, unless this line is meant to be facetious (as many of the others in the song are), Rodrigo seems as misinformed as she was about which short story collection of Joan Didion’s she actually took inspiration from in coming up with the title for this song. For it’s no secret now (as it scarcely was then) that the Kennedy name/presidency was mired in crookedness (though only Marilyn can truly say if that applied to JFK’s dick as well as his code of ethics).

    From the rumors of John’s patriarch, Joseph Kennedy Sr., pulling the necessary strings to nudge then-mayor of Chicago Richard Daley to, let’s say, influence certain Cook County ballot boxes to using the Secret Service to ferry his various mistresses in and out of bedrooms, the Kennedy name—particularly in its primary association with “Jack”—hardly equates with class or integrity. And definitely not discretion. Indeed, JFK was about as discreet as Miss Monroe’s Jean Louis gown at his forty-fifth birthday celebration/Democratic Party fundraising gala in 1962. A spectacle that occurred mere months before JFK probably killed her (with some help from RFK, perhaps—and Teddy, per a slightly offensive 1985 SNL sketch in which Madonna plays Marilyn…this being only fair considering she would end up sleeping with John Jr.). A “conspiracy theory” that certainly wouldn’t be classy if it turned out to be true. But even if it’s not (which remains debatable to many), there are still plenty of other ways in which JFK hardly radiated class. The same went for the rest of his “clan” (as the Irish like to call families—particularly families of a storied and extensive lineage). Whether it was RFK’s own affair with Marilyn (and Jackie, for that matter) or Ted Kennedy leaving the scene of the crime he committed by driving himself and RFK campaign staffer Mary Jo Kopechne off the road while drunk.

    Yes, the infamous Chappaquiddick “incident” was one of the most peak examples of true “Kennedy class.” Kopechne, incidentally, was moved to enter the political realm in the first place after seeing the JFK inauguration speech during which he pontificated, “…my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” Soon after, Kennedy would bilk the country and its highest office of all the privilege he could get out of it. And what Kopechne ended up doing “for Teddy” rather than her country, unfortunately, was dying. Though, of course, JFK could say the same.

    Luckily for Joe Sr., he still had plenty of children to bet on in the race called Building an American Dynasty. And at the top of the list after Joe Jr.’s death was Jack. A man whose penchant for instinctively sweeping any wrongdoing beneath the rug was not much better than what Teddy exhibited with Chappaquiddick (hence, taking hours to report the accident, and Mary Jo’s death along with it). But what was to be expected of the Kennedy sons when it came to shirking transparency at all costs? They learned from the best burier of secrets and shame, after all: Joe Sr. Better known as the brainchild behind pushing for his daughter, Rosemary, to get a lobotomy because she was prone to having seizures and erratic/violent mood swings. Being that this was 1941, slapping her with the then-current panacea of a lobotomy was, sadly, par for the course. She was just twenty-three when the procedure ended up incapacitating her and preventing her from speaking in a way that could be understood as anything other than gibberish. So what else would Joe Sr. do but clean up the “mess” he made by burying Rosemary’s existence (hiding her whereabouts for decades) in a Wisconsin institution for the disabled? Never mind that Joe Sr. was the one who did the disabling by trying to “fix” a person who wasn’t broken. Again, real fuckin’ “classy.”

    When it comes to the generation of children Joseph Sr. begat, it was apparent that they (particularly the men) were taking a page out of the lawless, devil-may-care playbook he had nonverbally written for them. Most notably when it came to his propensity for stepping outside of his marriage with a celebrity. Even at a time when the very concept of “celebrity” was still germinal in its movie star iteration. Nonetheless, during the silent movie era, there were few bigger precursors to major stardom than Gloria Swanson. And after being among the few to actually increase his bank balance in the wake of the 1929 stock market crash, Joe Sr. found himself orbiting the Hollywood scene, buying up stakes in studios and theaters to build on his “portfolio” of wealth.

    It was during this time that he encountered Swanson (in the days before she became Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard)…and proceeded to ruin her life. Not just by ousting her husband at the time, Henri de la Falaise, but also by defrauding her out of millions of dollars after becoming her business manager, in addition to her paramour. It was when Joe decided to gift her with a Cadillac and expense it on her production company’s account that she finally had to call him out. A move that reportedly sent him out the door without ever speaking to her again. With this in mind, John’s behavior toward Marilyn almost looks positively princely (Rodrigo influencer Lana Del Rey also seemed to think the same of his behavior toward Jackie, if the 2012 video for “National Anthem” is anything to go by).

    As the third generation of Kennedys (this being counted from the start of Joe Sr.) rose to prominence, it became quickly apparent that boorish behavior was something that ran in the blood. For JFK’s lone son, John Jr., had his own predilection for extramarital affairs. Only rather than being the married one in the scenario, he preferred to be the paramour. Specifically, to Madonna, who was “legally bound” to Sean Penn at the time of their tryst in 1988. Though Madonna might remind that Penn was a bit of a stick in the mud when it came to having any fun or lapping up the spotlight that went with the territory of being a major celebrity. Made more major by being “attached” to one of the biggest stars in the world. And rather than repelling JFK Jr., as it did Sean, the former seemed to be all the more titillated because of her Marilyn Monroe-level fame…not to mention aesthetic. And yes, Madonna was already well-known for paying homage to one of the twentieth century’s greatest icons early on in her career.

    Perhaps most famously when she re-created the famed “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” sequence from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes for her “Material Girl” video in 1985. Funnily enough, it was Sean who met and fell in love with Madonna on that set—not John Jr. But that didn’t mean Marilyn’s specter wouldn’t still haunt their eventual relationship. After all, Jackie insisted John call off his romance not because Madonna was a married woman, but because she was way too much of a Marilyn fangirl. With “class” like this, Jackie really had become a full-blown Kennedy.

    Even those roundaboutly connected to the Kennedys couldn’t seem to avoid the taint of uncouthness and/or sexual impropriety. One such prime example being Andrew Cuomo. Married to Kerry Kennedy for fifteen years (from 1990 to 2005), his descent into shame may have taken decades to occur, but when it happened, oh how it happened big. In a scandal that broke at the end of 2020 (just when Cuomo was riding high on praise [most of it self-given] for his handling of the pandemic). In the end, Attorney General Letitia James released the findings of an independent investigative report that stated Cuomo sexually harassed eleven women during his tenure as New York governor (and who knows how many others before that?). Needless to say, some standard-issue male Kennedy bullshit rubbed off on him. That, and probably working within the Clinton administration. Bill himself being a “renowned” acolyte of JFK—managing to get his picture taken with the OG presidential philanderer in 1963.

    While marriage to a Kennedy might turn you corrupt (or at least cause you to compromise some of your erstwhile ironclad “principles) if you weren’t already, being a Kennedy male appeared to all but assure that you could be born into a “high class” and still have no class at all. Most markedly when it came to the treatment of women. Another case in point: William Kennedy Smith, the son of Jean Kennedy/nephew of JFK. Smith was acquitted of a rape charge in 1991 despite potential reams of evidence against him. Evidence that also would have included the testimonies of three women stating on record that Smith had sexually assaulted them in the past. Their testimonies were deemed by Judge Mary Lupo to be inadmissible. After all, American “justice” stipulates that you should only be on trial for the crime you’ve committed, not the many others you’ve committed in the past and gotten away with.

    Then there was Michael LeMoyne Kennedy, son to Bobby. He, too, was another predatory Kennedy. A fact that came to light in 1997, two years before John Jr. died in a plane crash. But Michael had his own crash to deal with after being accused of having an affair with his children’s babysitter. Which wouldn’t be quite so bad if the affair hadn’t started when she was the Lolita age of fourteen. In typical “Kennedy clout” fashion, Michael evaded being charged with statutory rape in part because the three polygraph tests he took were conducted by companies that the Kennedys directly employed. Perhaps the only form of “justice,” then, could come in the skiing accident that resulted in his death at the end of 1997.

    And so, when Olivia Rodrigo perpetuates this bizarre and totally inaccurate trope about the Kennedys having class and integrity, well, it doesn’t bode well for Gen Z unlearning the undeserved association the Kennedys seem to have with “sophistication” and “glamor” in American politics. Something Gloria Swanson, who suffered the fallout of being collateral damage when it came to Kennedy ambition and entitlement, was unafraid to speak on. But that was after decades of silence and being almost on the verge of death. For she would only confess to her affair with Joe Sr. just three years before she passed away, releasing her autobiography (ghostwritten, of course) in 1980.

    “He was not very sophisticated insofar as knowing the right thing to do,” Swanson would “diplomatically” tell Barbara Walters in a 1981 interview promoting the book, called Swanson on Swanson. She then ominously added, “This man accomplished anything he wanted, including putting his son in the White House.” It was an inherited trait, this bulldozing version of “class.” Except that, in America, having class doesn’t really mean you have to be magnanimous. In fact, quite the opposite—it just means you have to be willing to do whatever it takes to secure your fortune.

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Olivia Rodrigo Tries to Fill the Hole Where Hole Used to Be

    Olivia Rodrigo Tries to Fill the Hole Where Hole Used to Be

    As supposed Olivia Rodrigo nemesis Taylor Swift once said, “I come back stronger than a 90s trend.” That’s precisely what’s happened of late in the live performances Rodrigo has been doing in promotion of her Guts album. It started roughly two months ago, when Rodrigo appeared on Jimmy Kimmel Live! to sing “ballad of a home schooled girl” (a timely choice considering the then upcoming release of Mean Girls 2024). Although not exactly outfitted in “Courtney Love circa 1994” attire during this instance, the entire vibe of the performance smacked of Rodrigo’s desire to bring back the raucous stylings of 90s-era frontwomen (e.g., Kathleen Hanna, Justine Frischmann, Shirley Manson), with an especial emphasis on the riot grrrl sound and look (granted, Love was no fan of that mid-90s movement).

    Out of all those “alt-rock” (a cringe-y term that Daria Morgendorffer undoubtedly hated) bands, Courtney Love’s personal style as the frontwoman of Hole was the most visible, aided along by the fact that she was dating (and then married) the “king” of grunge, Kurt Cobain (a name Gen Zers often have no knowledge of despite freely and vexingly sporting Nirvana t-shirts on the regular). While Rodrigo might have adopted solely the “tone” of Love’s performances (albeit more of a Love Lite vibe than an all-out visceral experience) on Jimmy Kimmel Live!, she saved an homage to all-out Hole aesthetics until she appeared on the December 9, 2023 episode of Saturday Night Live.

    Choosing to introduce a new song to the less-versed in her Guts album, Rodrigo followed her stripped-down performance of “vampire” with a more production value-y “all-american bitch.” Outfitted in a pink babydoll dress (this style of frock being Love’s well-known signature around the time of Live Through This), complete with a white, doily-esque collar, Rodrigo sits at a table decorated with cakes and other assorted sweets as she initially sings in her most precious voice while placing sugar cubes into a coffee cup (this, one imagines, will be repurposed again for her Guts Tour, along with babydoll dresses galore). Once the chorus hits, though, she shatters a champagne flute in her hand and proceeds to semi-writhe on the table in a botched attempt at “doing the Madonna at the 1984 VMAs.”

    Rodrigo then briefly goes back to being a “good little girl” before again ramping up the repressed anger she holds back in these moments, finally going all in on decimating the desserts on the table, not just hurtling them aside, but also throwing some of it at the camera and violently stabbing one of the cakes with a knife like she’s stabbing at the patriarchy itself. This blending of Madonna and Courtney Love (notoriously contentious toward one another for a while there) performance sensibilities is perhaps a testament to the pastiche overload of our current time. Something that Rodrigo, like anyone of her generation, can’t help but be a (for lack of a better word) victim of. 

    After loosely returning to her faux sugary sweetness shtick for another verse, Rodrigo once more goes apeshit during the chorus, the entirety of which is: “Forgive and I forget/I know my age and I act like it/Got what you can’t resist/I’m a perfect all-American bitch/With perfect all-American lips/And perfect all-American hips/I know my place, I know my place, and this is it.” The dripping-with-sarcasm aura also smacks of Love’s brand. Most notably on 1994’s “Miss World,” wherein she drones, “I’m Miss World/Somebody kill me/Kill me pills/No one cares, my friends.” In another part of that song, Love belts the chorus, “I’ve made my bed, I’ll lie in it/I’ve made my bed, I’ll die in it/I’ve made my bed, I’ll die in it/I’ve made my bed, I’ll cry in it.” “Coincidentally” enough, this expression is something that crops up in a Rodrigo song on Guts called “making the bed.” The track explores similar self-deprecating themes surrounding fame as Rodrigo laments, “And I’m playin’ the victim so well in my head/But it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed/Me who’s been makin’ the bed/Pull the sheets over my head, yeah/Makin’ the bed.” 

    This is also a song she sang live recently for NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert, rounding out the set of four songs (which additionally included “love is embarrassing,” “vampire” and “lacy”) with this one while wearing what is quickly becoming her own signature babydoll dress. After all, she’s openly stated her favorite fashion era is the 90s, with a budget for “vintage” clothing to support her zeal. Thus (and probably needless to say), Courtney Love would surely be present on the proverbial Pinterest board of that decade’s fashion trends. Accordingly, Rodrigo’s influences on Guts have clearly shifted far more toward the 90s rage of alt-rock than the “happy anger” of 00s pop-punk, which was more palpable on Sour (though that wasn’t without its major “girl rage” 90s influence either: Alanis Morissette—and Alanis gets more play on this album cycle, too…at least visually speaking). This likely due to her declaration that Rage Against the Machine was a key influence on her while recording the album, particularly “all-american bitch.” But as far as promotional performances have gone since Guts was released in September of ‘23, the most overt influence has been purely Love (whether Rodrigo wants to admit to being fully aware of it or not). 

    Some can appreciate this commitment to homage, while others might not necessarily find it quite so “cute” or “endearing.” Although Rodrigo has pointed out that nothing in music is ever new, there is an increasing sense of “watered down-ness” the more the decades go by and people keep “gleaning” from the past. However, as Rodrigo insisted, “Every single artist is inspired by artists who have come before them. It’s sort of a fun, beautiful sharing process. Nothing in music is ever new. There’s four chords in every song. That’s the fun part—trying to make that your own.” 

    Rodrigo does her best to make Hole her own too. Though it’s a prime example of the Narrator (Edward Norton, who, fittingly, once dated Courtney Love) in Fight Club remarking, “Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.” So if you’re going to copy yourself off of someone, Love isn’t the worst choice—musically or visually. But it still doesn’t quite fill the hole where Hole used to be. 

    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Sour Part Deux: Guts Builds On Olivia Rodrigo’s Favorite Subjects (Fuckboys, Lost Causes and Aesthetic Insecurities)

    Sour Part Deux: Guts Builds On Olivia Rodrigo’s Favorite Subjects (Fuckboys, Lost Causes and Aesthetic Insecurities)

    When the album artwork for Guts was first released, many were quick to call out the similarities to the color palette and overall “vibe” it shared with Sour. Perhaps this was a more deliberate choice than people realized, what with Olivia Rodrigo herself calling the music of Guts a “natural progression” from the work we heard on Sour. To be sure, it does often feel more like a continuation of Sour than a completely separate entity. Sort of like what happened when Lana Del Rey released the Paradise EP the same year as Born to Die and then created a Paradise Edition of the latter album with all the same tracks from the former tacked on at the end. But twelve songs is too much to do that so here we are with Guts as the “full-on” sophomore record. 

    Talking of Lana Del Rey, it’s evident that Rodrigo spending a bit of time with her earlier this year has had an effect. Even if she wrote a song like “all-american bitch”—a title that smacks of something out of the LDR songbook—before that little Billboard Women in Music moment they shared together. With tinges of the same intonation that was present on “enough for you,” the kickoff to Guts starts out “sweetly” enough… and then, of course, bursts into an upbeat expression of rage that drips with sarcasm as she evokes images of Americana that include, “Coca-Cola bottles that I only use to curl my hair [how Lady Gaga in the “Telephone” video]/I got class and integrity just like a goddamn Kennedy, I swear/With love to spare.” While Del Rey might be notoriously Team Pepsi (thanks to asserting, “My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola), it’s no secret that she’s had her own Kennedy fetish when it comes to describing America and its state of constant underlying decay (see: the “National Anthem” video). Although the song (or at least its title) was inspired, technically, by Joan Didion’s short story, “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” the overtones of Del Rey are everywhere.

    For the coup de grâce of Del Rey emulation, Rodrigo finishes the song by sardonically mentioning, “I’m pretty when I cry.” This being just one in a series of ways that Rodrigo mocks the enduring expectation that women should live up to impossible dichotomies in their “persona.” Hence, an analogy like, “And I am built like a mother and a total machine.” And then, of course, “I am light as a feather and stiff as a board.” An inconceivable combination that only levitating—ergo, witchcraft—can conjure. And we all know how men feel about witches (hint: they like to burn them). This appearing to be the obvious reason for why Rodrigo would make a reference to The Craft (hopefully the original, and not the one of “her generation”).

    In another part of the song, Rodrigo insists, “Oh, all the time, I’m grateful all the time (all the fucking time).” Although it is theoretically dripping with venom, Rodrigo does mention frequently that she’s so grateful for being able to do what she does. In fact, on the release day of Guts, she posted a handwritten letter stating, “…I feel so grateful. I feel grateful for everyone on my team who believes in me & supports me so unwaveringly.” Even before that, Rodrigo’s mention of gratitude came up in time for the album’s promotion cycle during “73 Questions with Vogue.” When asked by the interviewer, “What values do you hope you’ll still hold on to when you’re thirty-five years old?” she replied, “I hope I still have my gratitude.” Even if that gratitude is occasionally filled with the resentment apparent on “all-american bitch.”

    Proving that there’s a certain schizophrenia to the way women both despise and yet also cling to men, Rodrigo presents the contrasting sentiments of “bad idea right?” as the song after “all-american bitch.” A self-loathing anthem for any girl who has ever gone over to an ex’s (whether of the “serious” or mere “situationship” variety) in the middle of the night thanks to alcohol’s diabolical influence, its pop-punk sound feels plucked directly from an 00s teen movie. This is punctuated by the Petra Collins-directed video that mostly takes place at a house party before Rodrigo foolishly decides to leave on her quest for toxic dick despite claims of, “Yes, I know that he’s my ex/But can’t two people reconnect?/I only see him as a friend” and then quickly admitting, “The biggest lie I ever said.” Though some would argue that the biggest lie she ever said is that “vampire” is not about Taylor Swift. Except, she didn’t say it flat-out, instead dancing around a total “no” with, “I was very surprised when people thought that. I mean, I never want to say who any of my songs are about. I’ve never done that before in my career and probably won’t. I think it’s better to not pigeonhole a song to being about this one thing.” Swift might have once been the same, but eventually, she revealed who “Bad Blood” was about, didn’t she?

    In any case, if “all-american bitch” is a sonic parallel to “enough for you,” then “vampire” is Guts’ parallel to Sour’s “drivers license.” A lush, effusive ballad that also reaches a crescendo of emotionalism toward the middle, whoever the track is “really” about, it’s certain they might be rethinking their vampiric tendencies after hearing it (though probably not, knowing how socios operate). So might any “fame fuckers” in general. A term that Rodrigo was told she shouldn’t use if she wanted to be as “relatable” as she was on Sour (before the “fame monster” took hold). Nonetheless, in her interview with Phoebe Bridgers for, what else, Interview, Rodrigo shrugged, “…fame is more accessible than it has ever been. Everyone is yearning for some sort of internet virality, and there’s so much social climbing and lust for fame in the world that doesn’t have anything to do with living in L.A. or New York. It’s just prevalent in our generation.” One wonders what Joan Didion would have to say about that if she had been Rodrigo’s age in this time.

    The trend in songs “about people” continues with even more specificity on “lacy.” Except that the girl named Lacy in this song is a general embodiment of any proverbial “hot girl” that can inflict feelings of inadequacy and self-loathing in other women. Something the unnamed narrator in Ottessa Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation knows all about. To that end, there’s never much consideration for the effortlessly hot girl’s own difficulties in being automatically hated for being hot (think: Kelly LeBrock in the Pantene commercial saying, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful). But that’s not who we’re here to sympathize with on this track. Because Rodrigo knows there are far more “ugly” girls out there who will relate as she sings, “Lacy, oh, Lacy, it’s like you’re out to get me/You poison every little thing that I do/Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately/And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you/Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.” 

    To continue drawing the parallels from the songs on Sour to the ones on Guts, “lacy” is the obvious companion to “jealousy jealousy” (as is “pretty isn’t pretty”). And a name like Lacy does suggest a certain frilliness and daintiness. This further corroborated by Rodrigo describing Lacy as having “skin like puff pastry” (though that sounds like it would be kind of gross and cellulite-textured). And yes, the Del Rey influence continues to flicker in and out with keywords like “ribbons” and “daisies” that also show up in this track.

    The pace picks up again on “ballad of a homeschooled girl,” during which Rodrigo returns to her more “rock-infused” tone while giving voice to an underserved sect of humanity when it comes to pop culture offerings that are relatable. Describing the many unique woes of the homeschooled girl, being socially awkward is chief among them. Indeed, Rodrigo has stated that she lived a rather quiet life prior to all this fame and attention hitting her like a ton of bricks. Surely her contemporary and fellow homeschooled girl, Billie Eilish, feels the same. And yet, what both women have actually ended up doing is advocating for home school as a path to musical fame. After all, you have enough time to yourself to “create” and not get caught up in the bullshit of deliberately manufactured social dramas. Some of which a “homeschooled jungle freak”—as Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan) is called in Mean Girls—can end up causing as a result of her social ineptitude whenever she dares to “go outside.” Thus, the chorus, “I broke a glass, I tripped and fell/I told secrets I shouldn’t tell/I stumbled over all my words/I made it weird, I made it worse/Each time I step outside/It’s social suicide/It’s social suicide/Wanna curl up and die/It’s social suicide.” The use of “social suicide,” of course, being a nod to Damian (Daniel Franzese) in the aforementioned Mean Girls (since Rodrigo clearly fancies herself a millennial at heart) telling Cady that joining the Mathletes is social suicide. Something she didn’t pick up on herself as a result of being homeschooled.

    And yet, it was obviously homeschooling that fortified her path to fame (especially while having a set tutor during High School Musical: The Musical). A phenomenon she’s already starting to grapple with, as we hear on “making the bed.” An overt nod to the old adage, “You made your bed, now lie in it,” Rodrigo knows that although she did everything in her power to become famous, she’s now struggling with the unforeseen “disadvantages” of it. Even though just about every pop star before her has sung a song about this very conundrum (from Madonna with “Drowned World/Substitute for Love” to Britney Spears with “Lucky” and “Piece of Me,” and now, to Billie Eilish with “NDA”). Though fewer have spoken of the ways in which “money changes everything” for the worse rather than the better when it comes to making art. Eilish, on her own sophomore record, immediately acknowledges this idea that the pressure of money becoming so involved in how one creates their art can automatically taint the enjoyment of it. So it is that she sings, “Things I once enjoyed/Just keep me employed now.”

    Rodrigo builds on that sentiment similarly via the lyrics, “Another thing I ruined I used to do for fun” and “Every good thing has turned into something I dread.” Alluding to the song that launched her into the spotlight in the first place, Rodrigo also makes heavy-handed driving references in the lines, “And every night, I wake up from this one recurrin’ dream/Where I’m drivin’ through the city, and the brakes go out on me/I can’t stop at the red light, I can’t swerve off the road/I read somewhere it’s ’cause my life feels so out of control.”

    Delivering the chorus with such heart-wrenching sincerity that her plebeian listeners feel like they might almost understand how horrendous fame can be, Rodrigo explains, “Well, sometimes I feel like I don’t wanna be where I am/Gettin’ drunk at a club with my fair-weather friends/Push away all the people who know me the best/But it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed.” Indeed, “making the bed” is another peak Pisces moment for Rodrigo in that she knows how to feel sorry for herself while also being aware that the pain is mostly self-inflicted. She speaks to this reality by adding, “And I’m playin’ the victim so well in my head/But it’s me who’s been makin’ the bed/Me who’s been makin’ the bed/Pull the sheets over my head, yeah.” But at least they’re probably very high thread-count sheets. And yeah, like Ariana once declared, “Whoever said money can’t solve your problems/Must not have had enough money to solve ‘em.” Rodrigo, incidentally, does give a dash of an homage to “7 rings” at the beginning of “making the bed” by saying, “Want it, so I got it.”

    The same can’t be said for whatever boy du jour has abandoned her. For while she may have “gotten” him for the moment, he always ends up slipping through her fingers and generally disappointing her anyway. While also obliterating her already fragile self-esteem for good measure. To that end, the ballad vibe continues with “logical,” a piano-heavy number that thematically channels “1 step forward, 3 steps back,” “enough for you” and “favorite crime.” It also serves as the first in a quartet of songs (followed by “get him back!,” “love is embarrassing” and “the grudge”) with an overt running motif. Always related to some asshole who done her wrong. For, as Rodrigo’s roundabout mentor, Del Rey, noted during a pre-interview at the Billboard Women in Music Awards, much of the “world building” on women’s albums comes from boyfriends. So at least they’re good for something, right?

    Her flourish for simple mathematics (again, “1 step forward, 3 steps back”) is a big part of the song’s chorus as well, prompting her to belt out, “And now you got me thinkin’/Two plus two equals five/And I’m the love of your life/‘Cause if rain don’t pour and sun don’t shine/Then changing you is possible/No, love is never logical.” Said like someone who has only ever known toxic relationships. Which are especially easy to come by at Rodrigo’s age, as all the late twenties men come to her yard (something Eilish has experienced, too). Besides, it’s as Rodrigo says on “vampire”: “Girls your age know better.” In many regards, “logical” does feel like the “addendum” to “vampire,” emphasized by the same words and visuals being used. Namely, “You built a giant castle/With walls so high I couldn’t see/The way it all unraveled/And all the things you did to me/You lied, you lied, you lied, oh.”

    Enter the need to “get him back!” as retribution for all those lies. Alas, in true Rodrigo fashion, the phrase has a double meaning—on the one hand referring to revenge and, on the other, actually getting him back in her life. The panoply of conflicted feelings about whether she loves him or hates him reaches a zenith in the lengthy bridge (delivered, like the chorus, in that child choir-y voice that’s present on songs like “Youth of the Nation”), during which she says, among other negating things, “Wanna kiss his face…with an uppercut” and “I wanna meet his mom…just to tell her her son sucks.” This latter sentiment giving Del Rey on “A&W” when she taunts, “Your mom called/I told her you’re fucking up big time.” Because, clearly, the way a mother raises her son is the largest reflection of why he is the way he is (that is to day, a cad). Cardi B also seems to agree on “Thru Your Phone” when she raps, “I just want to break up all your shit, call your mama phone/Let her know that she raised a bitch/Then dial tone, click.” This, needless to say, can be a quite effective method for “getting him back.”

    As the song that’s slated to be her third single from the record, the video potential for it is ripe for male mockery (and, of course, car keying). What the world always needs more of, considering how self-serious and reckless with others’ emotions men continue to be. This being part of why, well, “love is embarrassing” (even though it’s more like Sky Ferreira said: “everything is embarrassing”). Or, more to the point, “straight love is embarrassing.” Because how could any self-respecting woman allow herself to be duped both so frequently and so spectacularly for the sake of some subpar (supposedly) hetero male?

    The uptempo, Bruce Springsteen-y song paints a picture that’s typical of Rodrigo’s doomed love life as she opens with, “I told my friends you were the one/After I’d known you like a monthAnd then you kissed some girl from high school/And I stayed in bed for like a week/When you said space was what you need.” That last line echoing Rodrigo’s so-called nemesis, Taylor Swift, when she says on one of her own many breakup songs, “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” “We hadn’t seen each other in a month/When you said you needed space/What?” Unlike Swift, however, Rodrigo is more adept at delivering a chirpy-sounding chorus that belies the rage she’s expressing in the lyrics. For example, “‘Causе now it don’t mean a thing/God, love’s fuckin’ embarrassin’/Just watch as I crucify myself/For some weird second-string/Loser who’s not worth mentioning/My God, love’s embarrassing as hell.” Apart from the religious metaphor, Rodrigo also references her “bad idea right?” video with the “loser who’s not worth mentioning” line, for that’s what the ex is listed as in her contacts when he calls her.

    To boot, Rodrigo, for someone who still has so few albums, keeps finding ways to be self-referential. This includes her accusing, “You found a new version of me,” a patent repurposing of the sentiments of “deja vu.” She finishes the song by channeling “late era” Kesha vibes with her outro as she further self-berates, “I’m plannin’ out my wedding with some guy I’m never marryin’/I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up, but I keep comin’ back for more.” Such is the way of the masochistic Pisces. And perhaps most women (regardless of their zodiac sign) in general. 

    Slowing it down again on “the grudge,” Rodrigo takes us back into “traitor” territory (including use of the word “betray”) as she goes off on yet another (or perhaps always the same) asshole who mistreated her. Unraveling all the resentment she’s tried to let go of, but can only keep holding on to (like Saul’s [Bob Odenkirk] brother, Chuck [Michael McKean], on Better Call Saul), Rodrigo bemoans, “And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream/How could anybody do the things you did so easily?” That latter demand appearing constantly in some form or another throughout her canon, whether it’s Sour or Guts. She then admits, “And I say I don’t care, I say that I’m fine/But you know I can’t let it go/I’ve tried, I’ve tried, I’ve tried for so long/It takes strength to forgive, but I don’t feel strong.” Cue Sheryl Crow asking, “Are you strong enough to be my man” (as opposed to weak enough to make others feel just as weak)? The answer being that the amount of weaklings has only intensified since Crow made that query back in 1993.

    Rodrigo then veers back into her other favorite song topic: aesthetic insecurity. With its The Cure-esque interpretation of “upbeat rhythm,” “Pretty Isn’t Pretty” is the Guts edition of “jealousy jealousy” and Rodrigo’s version of TLC’s “Unpretty” and Beyoncé’s “Pretty Hurts.” Addressing the same dilemmas of “jealousy jealousy,” Rodrigo offers a more mature track detailing the psychological ramifications of comparing oneself to other women, usually because of social media. Among the most relatable lyrics to a girl of any age are, “I could change up my body, and change up my face/I could try every lipstick in every shade/But I’d always feel the same/‘Cause pretty isn’t pretty enough anyway.” It’s in this song, too, that she wields the same line about trying to ignore something, which then only causes it to bubble up and explode to the surface all the more. Hence, “You can win the battle/But you’ll never win the war/You fix thе things you hated/And you’d still feel so insecure/And I try to ignorе it, but it’s everythin’ I see.”

    Despite some saying that Rodrigo’s feelings of insecurity are emblematic of an age she’ll grow out of, “teenage dream” is a direct assault on that notion. As the closer for the standard edition of the record (the deluxe one forthcoming), the melancholic “teenage dream” (watch out, Katy Perry) rounds out Guts with tinges of what Rodrigo already explored on “brutal” (complete with use of the phrase “teenage dream”), during which she spews, “And I’m so sick of seventeen/Where’s my fucking teenage dream?/If someone tells me one more time, ‘Enjoy your youth’/I’m gonna cry.” Here, too, she despises the drawbacks of being young, which mainly consists of “not being taken seriously” and having one’s feelings perpetually invalidated. Little does she know, it’s like that for a woman at any age.

    Rodrigo then returns to her paralyzing fear that becoming famous was a huge mistake, inquiring, “Will I spend all the rest of my years wishing I could go back?” Del Rey delves into that same existential question and then some on “White Dress” when she sings, “I was a waitress wearing a tight dress/Like, look how I do this, look how I got this/It made me feel, made me feel like a god/It kinda makes me feel, like maybe I was better off.” Del Rey also mentions being nineteen in the song, the same age Rodrigo was while recording Guts. It seems to be one of the more underrated “growing pains” ages for women as they transition into something like “adulthood,” but still not quite (#imnotagirlnotyetawoman). Ergo, Rodrigo chanting (as she speaks to the crushing pressures of instant success), “They all say that it gets better/It gets better the more you grow/Yeah, they all say that it gets better/It gets better, but what if I don’t?”

    Of course, it’s difficult to believe things won’t keep getting better for Rodrigo, at least for a little while as she remains “a pretty young thing” (both “to guys” and society at large). It’s only when she breezes past the ingenue phase that she might genuinely have to “apologize” to the masses, “And I’m sorry that I couldn’t always be your teenage dream.” Such is the cruelty of romanticizing and exalting teen girlhood. It sets all teen girls up for becoming nothing more than chaff in the harshly judging eyes of “humanity.”

    Genna Rivieccio

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