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Tag: Sabrina Carpenter Please Please Please

  • Sabrina Carpenter’s Man’s Best Friend Is a Best Friend to Frustrated Women Everywhere

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    It took four albums for Sabrina Carpenter to truly hit her stride, to “find her niche,” arriving at just the right formula with 2022’s Emails I Can’t Send. By 2024, when her sixth album, Short n’ Sweet, was released, the industry was ready to embrace her as one of the next “it” girls of music (along with two other women who had been around for years already: Charli XCX and Chappell Roan). The release of “Espresso” as a single in the spring of that year helped to grease the wheels for her, and by the time “Please Please Please” (the first track that signaled her new musical partnership with Jack Antonoff) was put out as the second single, listeners embraced her to the point of “bequeathing her” with her first number one hit on the Billboard Hot 100 (yes, that’s right, “Espresso” never actually made it to number one). 

    By that point, too, Carpenter’s “A-list” cachet had also been further confirmed by her relationship with a certain Academy Award-nominated actor named Barry Keoghan, who also appeared in the “Please Please Please” video, with Carpenter commenting, “I, genuinely—like, a not-even-biased opinion—I was like, ‘Who’s the greatest actor that I can find for this music video?’ And he was next to me in a chair. And he was so excited about it!” That level of excitement cooled soon after, with Sabrina and Barry breaking up in December of ‘24. And there’s no denying that he still remains an inspiration for her lyrics. Maybe even the first track that kicks off Man’s Best Friend, “Manchild” (arguably the only true “runaway hit” of Summer 2025, and, needless to say, inspired by a lyric from Lana Del Rey’s “Norman Fucking Rockwell”). 

    As the song that sets the tone for the entire concept and theme of the album—that men are hopeless disappointments—it doesn’t get any stronger than this. A Dolly Parton-esque lamentation that finds Carpenter resignedly accepting, “Never heard of self-care/Half your brain just ain’t there/Manchild/Why you always come a-running, taking all my loving from me?” And if he’s not taking Carpenter’s loving from her, he’s offering up only a stunted form of love, as discussed on the album’s second single, “Tears.” And no, she’s not talking about the kind that stream from your eyes, instead referring to a wetness “down there” at the thought of her object of affection “being a responsible guy.” Or, as the chorus phrases it, “I get wet at the thought of you/Being a responsible guy/Treating me like you’re supposed to do/Tears run down my thighs.”

    Serving that “Ariana Grande moan” sound at the beginning, this 70s-ified track, co-produced by Carpenter and John Ryan, is in keeping with Carpenter’s brand of chirpily and sweetly saying what the “pearl clutchers” would consider the raunchiest of things. But if it’s “raunchy” to be aroused by a man showing a little effort in both the emotional and domestic departments, so be it. As for the latter category, Carpenter is sure to instruct men, “A little initiative can go a very long, long way/Baby, just do the dishes, I’ll give you what you, what you want/A little communication, yes, that’s my ideal foreplay/Assemble a chair from Ikea, I’m like, ‘Uh.’” 

    Alas, the problem with a relationship becoming “too” domestic is that it can often lead to the man in the equation treating a woman like one of the pieces of furniture in the apartment or house: she’s just there—comfortable and dependable. This tragedy is addressed by Carpenter on “My Man on Willpower,” during which she returns to her Dolly Parton lilt (and according country-esque musical sound) to paint the picture, “My man on his willpower is something I don’t understand/He fell in love with self-restraint and now it’s getting out of hand.” This notion of a man’s “self-restraint” also comes up again later on “Nobody’s Son,” when Carpenter rues, “But no sir-eee/He discovered sеlf-control/This week.”

    Per the tale of “My Man on Willpower,” he discovered it gradually, with Carpenter recalling, “He used to be literally obsessed with me/I’m suddenly the least sought after girl in the land/Oh, my man on his willpower is something I don’t under, something I don’t understand.” In other words, Carpenter didn’t foresee the usual “reversal” that occurs in most relationships, wherein whoever started out as the most ardent one ends up becoming inversely disinterested as time wears on. The person who started out more disinterested, in contrast, only becomes more “involved”—in large part because they can’t understand where all the other person’s passion went, and they want to get it back by any desperate means necessary. 

    Carpenter’s panic continues to set in as she sings, “He’s busy, he’s working, he doesn’t have time for me/My slutty pajamas not tempting him in the least/What in the fucked up/Romantic dark comedy/Is this nightmare lately?” They call it, full-stop, monogamy. Or what Richard Wright (James Remar) faux mistakenly called “monotony” in Sex and the City

    SC slows it down a bit on the following track, “Sugar Talking,” (not to be confused with Mariah’s “Sugar Sweet”), a mid-tempo jam that accuses her lover of being neglectful. Worse still, trying to rely only on words a.k.a. “sugar talking” instead of actions to prove his love to her. So it is that Carpenter goads, “Saying that you miss me/Boy, do you win a prize?/You’re havin’ these epiphanies/Big word for a real small mind/And aren’t you tired of saying a whole lot of nothing?” Within these lyrics, Carpenter repeats another long-running motif of hers at this point: calling men stupid, dumb, etc. (hear also: “Dumb and Poetic,” “Slim Pickins” and “Manchild”). While more “traditionalist” (read: misogynist) men would tell Carpenter she might “catch more dick with honey,” she isn’t one for mincing words, playing nice or compromising who she is for the sake of “maybe” “landing a man.” Because any man worth landing, as far as she’s concerned, is one who knows and accepts her for who she really is: sardonic, sassy and salacious. Unfortunately, as she’s already mentioned, “it’s slim pickins” in terms of finding a man who doesn’t want a robotic twig as a girlfriend. 

    Even the man claiming he’s “all about” Carpenter in this song. But no, as she calls out, “You tell me that you want me/But, baby, if you need me/Put your loving where your mouth is [yes, a sexual innuendo, as is always to be expected from Carpenter]/Your sugar talking isn’t working tonight, oh/Say you’re a big changed man, I doubt it/Yeah, your paragraphs mean shit to me/Get your sorry ass to mine.” With these feelings in mind, it’s a natural fit for her to transition into “We Almost Broke Up Again Last Night.”

    The song with the slowest tempo on the album thus far, it’s a resigned ballad tinged with dry humor. Though there’s still plenty of “wetness” for Carpenter to have as she talks about the kind of make-up sex that keeps leading her to repeat the vicious cycle of staying with a man she knows is no good for her. And yet, every time she tries to end it, it’s like he can sense her attempt to break up with him, so he starts acting right. This described by Carpenter as, “And when I reach to pull the plug I swear, it starts working out/And on the days I’m a little much/That’s when I tell them how sweet he treats me/And how no other boys compete/I know how it looks, I know how it sounds/Least will give ‘em something to talk about.” Considering Carpenter’s country proclivities of late, that last line surely as to be a Bonnie Raitt allusion. And when Raitt suggested that thing she ought to give people to talk about, it was “love.” Carpenter is much the same, even if the kind of love she talks about is botched, unrequited or generally fucked up. 

    Nowhere does this apply more than on one of the most standout tracks on Man’s Best Friend, “Nobody’s Son,” a jaunty, up-tempo track with a bittersweet undertone. For it’s a damning callout of a mother’s part in raising a son who doesn’t quite know how to treat another woman right. The blame for a man’s incompetencies (emotional or otherwise) on his mother also comes up in “Manchild,” when Carpenter sings, “Why so sexy if so dumb?/And how survive the Earth so long?/If I’m not there, it won’t get done/I choose to blame your mom.” As she continues to on “Nobody’s Son,” bemoaning on the song’s indelible bridge, “That boy is corrupt/Could you raise him to love me, maybe?/He sure fucked me up/And, yes, I’m talking ‘bout your baby/That boy is corrupt/Get PTSD on the daily/He sure fucked me up/And, yes, I’m talking ‘bout your baby.” The “precious” baby that can do no wrong in Mother’s eyes. Because, from her point of view, it’s always “that slutty bitch” who did wrong. 

    After having already expressed so much contempt for men just halfway through the album, it’s no wonder Carpenter would offer up a song called “Never Getting Laid.” Except, contrary to what the title might suggest to the person who hasn’t yet heard it, Carpenter is merely wishing her ex “a forever of never getting laid.” Indeed, it’s difficult not to imagine she’s speaking directly to Keoghan when she sends these “well wishes.” 

    Either way, Carpenter tells the tale of a love turned cold as she recounts, while speaking to her now ex, “No way to know just who you’re thinkin’ of/I just wish you didn’t have a mind/That could flip like a switch/That could wander and drift/To a neighboring bitch/When just the other night/You said you need me, what gives?/How did it come to this?/Boy, I know where you live.” Carpenter then engages in some of her most venomous (but, again, chirpy) sarcasm yet as she says, “Us girls are fun but stressful, am I right?/And you got a right hand anyway.” So, in essence, she’s imagining he might as well “jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen” since he “can’t deal” with the so-called pressure of being with her. 

    In spite of the ire she conveys on “Never Getting Laid,” Carpenter does what she warned about on Short n’ Sweet’s “Good Graces”: “I’ll switch it up like that, so fast.” And what she switches up to is having a newfound appreciation for men on “When Did You Get Hot?” With its sweltering, 90s-esque sound that’s most prominent during the intro, Carpenter talks of being in a desert, so to speak, as she oozes horniness in the verse, “So long, untouched/Bone dry, not a plant can grow/‘Bout time I get back on the horse to the rodeo.” A fair share of metaphors in a short span, indicating her sensory overload as she walks into a “prospect convention” (which sounds better than Lana Del Rey’s “Men in Music Business Conference”). It’s there that she encounters “Devin,” a guy she doesn’t remember being so fine, hence her stimulation overload in the chorus, “And I was like [said in a very Mariah on “Obsessed” way], ‘Huh’/When did you get hot all the sudden? I could look you up and down all day/When did you get hot?/I think I would remember if you had that face/I did a double take, triple take/Take me to naked Twister back at your place/Baby, baby, mmm, it’s thickening the plot/When did you get hot?”

    “Devin” doesn’t seem to last very long, however, as indicated by the drunk dialing anthem that is “Go Go Juice.” And yes, it is refreshing to hear from a Gen Zer that actually drinks “good old-fashioned” alcohol to the point of getting so drunk she starts making a telephonic fool of herself. But then, Carpenter reveals herself to be an even “older soul” by the fact that she would deign to use a phone for its original purpose in the first place: making a call. Because no, this ain’t a track about drunk texting—it’s all about “dialing” (a.k.a. choosing an arbitrary contact in her phone) and talking. And, like some of the best “I’m a drunk fool” songs, this one’s decidedly country too, with Carpenter belting out in her “down-home” twang (and an accompanying fiddle breakdown), “I’m just drinkin’ to call someone/Ain’t nobody safe when I’m a little bit drunk/Could be John or Larry, gosh, who’s to say?/Or the one that rhymes with ‘villain’ if I’m feelin’ that way/Oh, I’m just drinking to call someone/A girl who knows her liquor is a girl who’s been dumped/Sippin’ on my go go juice, I can’t be blamed/Some good old-fashioned fun sure numbs the pain.” It sure does, and thankfully Carpenter is here to school her generation on the merits of liquor. 

    She’s also here to teach men that, just because she can be endlessly hurt and irritated by them, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to keep them wrapped around her finger and outplay them on mind games any day of the week. Hence, “Don’t Worry I’ll Make You Worry,” the last track she wrote for the album (though not the last track on the record). During which she forebodingly “assures,” “So don’t worry/I’ll make you worry like no other girl can/So don’t worry/Damn sure I’ll never let you know where you stand.” And, even despite the sex with him being “annoyingly good,” Carpenter still won’t give in to fully acknowledging what the “status” of the relationship is to the one whose head she’s fucking with. So well, in fact, that apparently even the man’s mother can’t talk sense into him as Carpenter taunts, “And your mother even agrees/That emotional lottery is all you’ll ever get with me.” Since bringing a man’s mother into things is her bread and butter of late. 

    As is upping the ante on her sexual metaphors, achieving a new apex on “House Tour” (though she ironically declares, “And I promise none of this is a metaphor”). With its ultra 80s sound, it’s no surprise that Jack Antonoff is a co-producer on the song. And, clearly, he must have been inspired by early era Janet Jackson, with the hopped-up tempo punctuating Carpenter’s flurry of analogies. Mainly, referring to her body as a house a.k.a. “being built like one” (for there’s a reason The Commodores once said, “She’s a brick house”). Thus, such lyrics as, “House tour/Yeah, I spent a little fortune on the waxed floors [read: waxing her vag]/We can be a little reckless ‘cause it’s insured [a.k.a. she’s on birth control]/I’m pleasured to be your hot tour guide/Baby, what’s mine is now yours.” 

    That “mi casa es su casa” vibe quickly changes yet again on the album’s appropriately titled finale, “Goodbye” (unless one has the bonus track edition, which concludes with “Such A Funny Way”). And yes, Spanish is one of the languages Carpenter uses for her kiss-off to a boy that dared to break up with her and then tried to come crawling back after realizing the error of his ways. But no, the rule, as far as Carpenter and every other girl with self-respect is concerned is this: “Goodbye means that you’re losing me for life/Can’t call it love, then call it quits/Can’t shoot me down, then shoot the shit/Did you forget that it was you who said goodbye?/So you don’t get to be the one who cries/Can’t have your cake and eat it too/By walking out, that means you choose goodbye.” 

    Regardless of her appalled anger, Carpenter still retains her condescending politesse when she ends the track with, “Goodbye/Get home safe.” Because there’s no more tour of her “house” for him to be had. In fact, she likely realized she would get more trust and dependability out of a dog. Deemed to be “man’s” best friend, though, in truth, there is no finer companion a woman could ask for (in contrast, a woman really can be a man’s best friend when she’s treated well). Because it is she who is looking for the kind of unwavering loyalty and devotion that, these days, only a canine can give. As for the original album cover (before all the alternate versions started trickling in), featuring Carpenter in her own “dog-like” pose, it’s intent isn’t necessarily to “scandalize” “feminists,” so much as demarcate the lengths that a girl is willing to go just to get a dram of love and affection from an otherwise blasé straight man. With women still foolishly adhering to the Morrissey aphorism, “The more you ignore me, the closer I get.” 

    Carpenter can find the comedy in her pain, obviously, remarking of her most “man-hating” record yet“It’s a real party for heartbreak, a celebration of disappointment! It’s laughing at yourself and your poor choices as everything is falling apart, it’s wondering how loyalty and love always gets you back to third-wheeling, spoken sarcastically like a true 25-year old!” Or even a true twenty-five-year-old still trapped in an older woman’s body. 

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Sabrina Carpenter and Jenna Ortega Compete Over Mid White Guy in Death Becomes Her-Inspired “Taste” Video

    Sabrina Carpenter and Jenna Ortega Compete Over Mid White Guy in Death Becomes Her-Inspired “Taste” Video

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    Some might initially be led to believe that Sabrina Carpenter’s video for her third single from Short n’ Sweet, “Taste,” is Quentin Tarantino-oriented with its cautionary opening title card (in a Tarantino-y font), “Parental Advisory and Viewer Warning: The following video contains explicit content and depicts graphic violence which may be offensive to some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.” But no, it becomes quickly apparent that the Dave Meyers-directed video is a full-on homage to 1992’s Death Becomes Her. And while many attempts at homage in music videos turn out to be mere shot-for-shot re-creations (see: Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX’s “Fancy” or Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next”), Carpenter chooses to riff on the Death Becomes Her concept rather than totally copy each scene.

    Thus, the video begins with a close-up on a “girlie bed” contrasted by “masc” accoutrements like guns and knives, with Meyers sure to give an extra-long pause on the Prada lipstick (brand partnerships are so important, n’est-ce pas?). All the while, Carpenter creepily sings, “Rock-a-bye baby, snug in your bed/Right now you are sleeping/And soon you’ll be…dead.” Carpenter then wields one of the knives as a mirror while applying her lipstick, wanting to look her best before infiltrating her ex’s mansion with a machete. Trotting into the bedroom to find her ex and his new girlfriend sleeping (it reeks of the Betty Broderick narrative), Carpenter is unpleasantly surprised to find that the female body she starts to hack away at is filled with feathers instead of guts. Turns out, Ortega was waiting for her to show up and came prepared with a shotgun as her own weapon of choice.

    It’s here that the Death Becomes Her reference becomes clear, with Ortega—the Madeline Ashton (Meryl Streep) to Carpenter’s Helen Sharp—shooting a hole right through Carpenter’s stomach and sending her flying right over the balcony. When Ortega looks over it to see the resulting carnage, it becomes obvious that they’ve deviated from the original Death Becomes Her scene in opting to have Carpenter also land on two stakes in the white-picket fence that “padded” her fall. Carpenter might be down, but she’s not out, ready for instant revenge by lobbing a knife right into Ortega’s eye and flipping her the bird afterward.

    At the hospital where Carpenter manages to be outfitted with a pink “sexy” gown featuring white polka dots complemented by her thigh-high tights and heels, Ortega then comes for her revenge. And it’s here that the most obvious Tarantino tribute enters the fray, with Ortega dressed in the same nurse ensemble as Elle Driver (Daryl Hannah), complete with a white eyepatch that has a red cross detail on it. Defibrillating Carpenter into oblivion, Ortega has hardly seen the last of her as she reappears at her ex’s house that night, watching them from outside as they get all romantique by the fire.

    Carpenter quickly puts a pin in those plans (voodoo doll pun intended) by pulling out a voodoo replica of Ortega and bending its body in the most cringeworthy ways. Laughing to herself as she bashes Ortega’s doll head against a bush, Carpenter is rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of another doll Ortega happens to have—one that, quelle surprise, resembles Carpenter (mainly because it’s blonde). Thus, she tosses the doll into the fireplace, in turn, causing Carpenter’s body to burst into flames.

    Things continue to escalate when, in the next scene, Carpenter attacks Ortega while she’s in the shower with this mid white guy (played by Rohan Campbell), who’s mostly just a trophy for these two women (much like Ernest Menville [Bruce Willis] in Death Becomes Her) as opposed to someone they actually seem to care about all that much. Conveniently, Ortega happens to be packing a scythe while in the shower, hacking away at Carpenter’s arm before chasing her back down the stairs and tackling/wrestling her.

    Convinced she’s finally won this time, Ortega is shown blissfully kissing Mid White Guy as the lyrics, “Well, I heard you’re back together and if that’s true/You’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissin’ you/If you want forever, I bet you do/Just know you’ll taste me too,” play in the background. Thus, it’s only right to hit that point over the head by having Mid White Guy turn into Carpenter while Ortega is in the midst of making out with him—fulfilling many a wet dream (though nothing will ever compare to the iconicness of the Madonna-Britney (and yes, Xtina) “union” at the 2003 VMAs), to be sure.

    While viewers might be titillated by the image, Ortega is anything but, whipping out a chainsaw to cut at Carpenter’s body anew, sending her backwards into the pool as she makes a bloody splash. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), it turns out to be a witchy trick on Carpenter’s part, as she then suddenly appears behind Ortega to watch Mid White Guy’s body sink to the bottom of the pool. It only takes a few seconds for Ortega to look “not that mad” about it.

    After all, this dude was so generic that all he can be referred to at the funeral is “Beloved Boyfriend.” And while the woman who must be his mother (hence, all the over-the-top sobbing) is noticeably upset about it, Ortega looks over at Carpenter with an almost grateful look in her eye as the two smile at one another and leave.

    For the final scene, Ortega and Carpenter are shown walking down some steps together sipping from either coffee or smoothie drinks (maybe Erewhon’s Short n’ Sweet smoothie?) as they kiki about “Beloved Boyfriend,” with Carpenter noting, “I mean, clingy. Lots of trauma, lots of trauma.” “Very insecure,” Ortega chimes in. Carpenter laughs, “’Very insecure!’ You kill me.” While it might not have the exact ending of Death Becomes Her (with Madeline and Helen opting to remain bitter frenemies rather than close besties), it does conclude with both of them at their ex’s funeral. And what better way to forge a lasting friendship than that?

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet Packs Some of Her Biggest n’ Bitterest Songs

    Sabrina Carpenter’s Short n’ Sweet Packs Some of Her Biggest n’ Bitterest Songs

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    Apart from Charli XCX and Chappell Roan, 2024 in music (much to Taylor Swift’s dismay) has belonged to Sabrina Carpenter. When “Espresso” first came out in April of 2024 (exactly one month before Carpenter’s twenty-fifth birthday), it didn’t take long for it to become a hit worthy of being deemed “song of the summer.” For yes, its pervasiveness only ramped up as the beginning of June rolled around and the single continued to take on a life of its own. The video’s summery aesthetic and color palette also contributed to its association with Lana Del Rey’s polar opposite emotion, summertime gladness. Frothy and catchy, “Espresso” was toppled from the number one spot only by Carpenter’s own subsequent single, “Please Please Please.”

    With both of these songs giving listeners a taste of the sound to come on Carpenter’s sixth—that’s right, sixth—album, it was apparent she was going in a different sonic direction from the one on 2022’s Emails I Can’t Send. At the same time, it was also clear she was maintaining the same penchant for tongue-in-cheek lyricism. Of the variety that’s only been honed during the past two years since she became an “overnight” success. And it all starts with “Taste,” a “Perfume”-by-Britney Spears-reminiscent number in that it warns another woman that Carpenter has marked her (now ex-) man, whether he knows it or not, with her own indelible scent—or rather, “taste.” As Carpenter phrases it in the chorus, “I heard you’re back together and if that’s true/You’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissin’ you/If you want forever, I bet you do/Just know you’ll taste me too.” Whether Carpenter is referring to how his lips taste of hers or the ones she has “downstairs” depends on the listener’s level of raunch.

    Some have speculated the song could be directed at Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello, but there’s also a tinge of “homage” to her love triangle drama with Olivia Rodrigo and Joshua Bassett during the bridge when she shrugs, “Every time you close your eyes/And feel his lips, you’re feelin’ mine/And every time you breathe his air/Just know I was already there/You can have him if you like/I’ve been there, done that once or twice/And singin’ ’bout it don’t mean I care/Yeah, I know I’ve been known to share.” Though, as a Taurus, probably not when it comes to food (and yes, “Taste” is arguably the most Taurus title for a song she could have come up with).

    Many of the lyrics also channel Rodrigo on Sour’s “deja vu,” albeit with a tone of more self-assured confidence. Like when Carpenter brags, “Hе’s funny, now all his jokes hit different/Guеss who he learned that from?” Trying out all the “tricks” he learned from Carpenter on this new girl, it smacks of Rodrigo accusing her own ex, “So when you gonna tell her/That we did that, too?/She thinks it’s special/But it’s all reused/That was our place, I found it first/I made the jokes you tell to her when she’s with you.”

    The tone shifts on “Please Please Please,” which offers a more country-infused sound (or “Dolly-coded” as people like to say) produced by Jack Antonoff—yes, Carpenter has officially joined that cult. And it works for her, clearly…what with “Please Please Please” marking her first number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. The song’s muse, as it were, also appears in the video directed by Bardia Zeinali. That’s right, Carpenter plays the reluctant Bonnie to Barry Keoghan’s Clyde. And after begging him, “Don’t embarrass me, motherfucker,” it seems that breakup rumors are swirling just in time for the release of Short n’ Sweet. But even if the rumors are true, the songs on the album make it evident that Carpenter is no stranger to disappointment in romance, no matter how brief.

    Indeed, like Matty Healy inspiring most of Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department, Carpenter admits that it was some of her briefest relationships that left her feeling the most bereft once they were over. As she told Zane Lowe, “I thought about some of these relationships, how some of them were the shortest I’ve ever had and they affected me the most.” The same goes for Lana Del Rey with a bloke like Sean Larkin, who inspired many songs in the aftermath of their mere six-month relationship. But to discount the intensity of one’s feelings just because a period of time together is short (and hopefully sweet) is to promote the suppression of emotions that our capitalistic society thrives on. One in which people are encouraged to constantly move on to the “next” thing (or person) rather than dwelling too long in one place, so to speak.

    As for the place Carpenter dwelled while writing Short n’ Sweet, it would appear that the album cover ripping off a French photoshoot for Cosmopolitan France (starring model Tiffany Collier) might have been inspired by Carpenter hanging out in France for a couple of weeks while immersed in penning the record. Thus, perhaps Carpenter was feeling too French not to borrow her album artwork from une photo française—after all, she wrote many of the songs while on vacation in a small town called Chailland. Oui, oui, très inspirant.

    Once again giving her best impression of Ariana Grande (as she did for “Nonsense”) on “Good Graces” (particularly during the opening when she makes random noises), Carpenter warns the ephemeral object of her affection that she can switch up her mood real quick if he starts acting a fool, alchemizing her love into hate. This much is confirmed when she chirpily sings during the chorus, “Boy, it’s not that complicated/You should stay in my good graces/Or I’ll switch it up like that so fast/‘Cause no one’s more amazin’ (amazin’)/At turnin’ lovin’ into hatred.” To sum it up, like Ari, she can switch positions, too—only we’re talking about the emotional kind.

    Carpenter’s brand of innuendo is also on full display here, especially when she delivers the double entendre, “I’ll tell the world you finish your chores prematurely/Break my heart and I swear I’m movin’ on.” It’s that easy for someone who knows her worth, which is why it’s additionally easy to turn ice-cold in response to not getting what she wants out of a romantic interest, singing “I won’t give a fuck about you” in a manner similar to Reneé Rapp’s intonation when she flexes, “It’s not my fault you’re like in love with me” on “Not My Fault.”

    Having only just warmed up on the innuendo/double entendre front, Carpenter’s next offering is “Sharpest Tool.” And while the title might give the impression that Carpenter is going to be in impish “fast mode,” the song is actually a slowed-down melody (furnished, again, by Antonoff) that finds her reflecting on the fleeting relationship she had with a guy who wasn’t sharp enough (“not the sharpest tool in the shed,” if you will) to understand how much he hurt her—though maybe his other “tool” was sharp enough to keep her wanting more.

    So it is that Carpenter laments, “Guess I’ll waste another year on wonderin’ if/If that was casual [very Chappell Roan of her], then I’m an idiot/I’m lookin’ for an answer in between the lines.” Alas, more often than not, there are no answers when it comes to the whims of male emotions (or lack thereof). The casual cruelty of the person Carpenter describes is summed up in the lines, “We had sex, I met your best friends/Then a bird flies by and you forget.” Being easily distracted is, of course, a signature trait of dumbness (apologies to the ADHD crowd). Worse still, the erstwhile object of her affection was able to so effortlessly flip the switch on his “goodwill” toward her, with Carpenter recounting, “Seems like overnight, I’m just the bitch you hate now/We never talk it through/How you guilt-tripped me to open up to you/Then you logged out, leavin’ me dumbfounded.” Due to the nature of the lyrics, listeners have posited that Joshua Bassett seems to be the most likely inspiration. Or maybe, as the next track is called, it’s pure “Coincidence.”

    Exploring an inverse dynamic to the one in “Taste,” the guitar-laden, country-ified “Coincidence,” produced by John Ryan and Ian Kirkpatrick, is Carpenter’s “told you so” vindication about an ex who did her wrong with his own ex (again, it smacks of referring to Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello). In this regard, “Coincidence” shares some lyrical DNA with Mýa’s 2000 hit, “Case of the Ex,” during which she paints the picture, “It’s after midnight and she’s on your phone/Saying, ‘Come over,’ ‘cause she’s all alone/I could tell it was your ex by your tone/Why is she callin’ now after so long?/Now what is it that she wants?/Tell me, what is it that she needs?,” adding in the chorus, “Whatcha gon’ do when you can’t say no?/When the feelings start to show, boy, I really need to know and/How you gonna act?/How you gonna handle that?/Whatcha gon’ do when she wants you back?”

    Carpenter fears the same from the ex in question on “Coincidence,” annoyed by the “sixth sense” that ex has for infiltrating his life when she can sense he might have a new girlfriend. Hence, Carpenter giving us the snapshot, “Last week, you didn’t have any doubts/This week, you’re holding space for her tongue in your mouth/Now shе’s sendin’ you some pictures wеarin’ less and less/Tryna turn the past into the present tense, huh/Suckin’ up to all of your mutual friends.” Saving the coup de grâce for the bridge, Carpenter then wields her gift for sarcasm by saying, “What a surprise, your phone just died/Your car drove itself from L.A. to her thighs/Palm Springs looks nice, but who’s by your side?/Damn it, she looks kinda like the girl you outgrew/Least that’s what you said.” But, by now, Carpenter herself has outgrown this dude’s antics, moving on with the eye-rolling assessment, “What a coincidence/Oh, wow, you just broke up again” (while echoing the tone of Selena Gomez on 2017’s “Bad Liar”).

    The mid-tempo “Bed Chem” switches musical genre gears again, embodying a more funkified, R&B vibe as Carpenter dissects the definition of “good bed chem” (hint: it has little to do with a guy’s personality). Undoubtedly spurred by her dalliance with Keoghan, one line in particular stands out for alluding to his “size”—which everyone became privy to at the end of Saltburn. In reference to that, Carpenter sings, “And now the next thing I know, I’m like/Manifest that you’re oversized/I digress, got me scrollin’ like/Out of breath, got me goin’ like/Who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?” A white jacket being what Keoghan was wearing when the two first encountered at the Givenchy show during Paris Fashion Week. And, speaking of Givenchy, this track is also awash in the tone of the brand’s former spokesperson, Ariana Grande, known for her own sex-positive lyrical content as well (e.g., “everyday,” “side to side,” “positions” and “34+35”).  

    Carpenter, however, might just have managed to one-up even the most sexual of Grande’s lyrics with the verse, “Come right on me, I mean camaraderie/Said you’re not in my time zone, but you wanna be/Where art thou?/Why not uponeth me?/See it in my mind, let’s fu…fill the prophecy.” Like Dua Lipa on “Good In Bed” from Future Nostalgia, Carpenter makes it her mission to establish what creates unforgettable bed chemistry. Usually, it relates to being disconnected in every other way but the physical. Or, as Lipa phrases it, “I know it’s really bad, bad, bad, bad, bad/Messing with my head, head, head, head, head/We drive each other mad, mad, mad, mad, mad/But baby, that’s what makes us good in bed/Please, come take it out on me, me, me, me, me.” Or, even more directly, “Yeah, we don’t know how to talk/But damn, we know how to fuck.”

    As for the song that brings us to the second half of the album, “Espresso,” there’s little that can be said about it that hasn’t been already—not least of which is the expansive commentary on the polarizing neologism, “That’s that me espresso.” A phrase that some might find both “Dumb & Poetic,” as track eight on Short n’ Sweet is called. In fact, the title of the album has proven to be quite on-brand, with six of the twelve songs clocking in at under three minutes. And “Dumb & Poetic” happens to be the shortest of all at two minutes and thirteen seconds. But Carpenter says all she needs to in that time (occasionally channeling Chappell Roan’s “Coffee”), including, “Gold star for highbrow manipulation/And ‘love everyone’ is your favorite quotation/Try to come off like you’re soft and well-spoken/Jack off to lyrics by Leonard Cohen.” Though no one wants to hear the comparison right now, there is a faint tinge of Katy Perry’s “Ur So Gay” (minus the country twang) in the skewering tone designed to eviscerate this “man’s” false sense of masculinity. Which Carpenter knocks down completely with the final verse, “Don’t think you understand/Just ’cause you act like one doesn’t make you a man/Don’t think you understand/Just ’cause you leave like one doesn’t make you a man.”

    The musical tone switches up once more on “Slim Pickins,” another track noticeably produced by Antonoff, who Carpenter seems to keep on retainer for her most country-sounding fare (which bodes well for Lana Del Rey’s forthcoming Lasso). With its soft guitar background, Carpenter gives another great Dolly impression as she commences her tale of woe with resigned pluckiness: “Guess I’ll end this life alone I am not dramatic/These are just the thoughts that pass right through me/All the douchebags in my phone/Play ‘em like a slot machine/If they’re winnin’, I’m just losin’.” Once more alluding to the importance of a man’s size, Carpenter delivers another double entendre when she bemoans, “God knows that he isn’t livin’ large,” further adding, “A boy who’s nice, that breathes/I swear he’s nowhere to be seen.”

    As for the chorus, it’s among the most memorable on Short n’ Sweet, with Carpenter declaring, “It’s slim pickings/If I can’t have the one I love/I guess it’s you that I’ll be kissin’/Just to get my fixings/Since the good ones are deceased or taken/I’ll just keep on moanin’ and bitchin’.” Carpenter even offers up something for the grammar nazis (which is ironic considering her “Espresso” lyrics) by shading, “This boy doesn’t even know/The difference between ‘there,’ ‘their’ and ‘they are’/Yet he’s naked in my room.”

    She then goes ultra-country (we’re talking “make Miley jealous” level) for her finale verse, during which she assesses, “Since the good ones call their exes wasted/And since the Lord forgot my gay awakenin’ [surely, another nod to Chappell]/Then I’ll just be here in the kitchen/Servin’ up some moanin’ and bitchin’”—as most single white ladies are prone to do.

    As are they also prone to having a soft spot for Diablo Cody movies like Juno, which just so happens to be the title of the next song. And, in case there was any doubt as to whether it was about that specific movie, Carpenter sings, “If you love me right, then who knows?/I might let you make me Juno/You know I just might/Let you lock me down tonight.” Of course, Juno’s name was in honor of the goddess (called Hera in Greek) of women, marriage and childbirth, so it still holds that dual reference as well. Hardly the first “pop girlie” (that odious term) to use film as a song’s inspiration (Charli XCX and Lana Del Rey both have plenty of those), Carpenter does Cody proud when she also pronounces, “Hold me and explore me/I’m so fuckin’ horny.” After all, it’s Carpenter herself who said, “Those real moments where I’m just a twenty-five-year-old girl who’s super horny are as real as when I’m going through a heartbreak and I’m miserable.”

    Elsewhere, she serves Britney Spears’ “Perfume” yet again by urging her object of desire, “Mark your territory.” On “Perfume,” Spears is the one to assure, “I’m gonna mark my territory.” As any girl would when there’s a “whole package” involved—another dick innuendo Carpenter makes when she effuses, “Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit/God bless your dad’s genetics, mm, uh.” The Ariana Grande connection is also renewed when Carpenter teases, “You know I just might/Let you lock me down tonight/One of me is cute, but two though?/Give it to me, baby.” For it channels Grande on “34+35” when she gets to the point with, “You might think I’m crazy/The way I’ve been cravin’/If I put it quite plainly/Just gimme them babies.”

    Unfortunately, Carpenter has to endure the same path as Juno MacGuff in terms of being left heartbroken by the one she loves, as poetically explored on “Lie To Girls” (another Antonoff track). Capable of being as hard on herself as the boys who disappoint her, Carpenter opens with a verse featuring the lines, “I’ve never seen an ugly truth that I can’t bend/To something that looks better/I’m stupid, but I’m clever/Yeah, I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever.” As can most women, when they want to. After all, love is blinding, in addition to blind. So it is that Carpenter crafts one of her most indelible choruses yet: “You don’t have to lie to girls/If they like you, they’ll just lie to themselves/Like you, they’ll just lie to themselves/You don’t have to lie to girls/If they like you, they’ll just lie to themselves/Don’t I know it better than anyone else?” And yes, this is Carpenter at her most Gracie Abrams-sounding (after all, there’s a reason Swift chose both women as her openers on The Eras Tour).

    None of this bodes well for Keoghan, but hey, who’s to say the two won’t get back together again, Bennifer-style (though we’ve all seen how that works out)? As for the arrival of whenever their “final” breakup might be, Carpenter is ready with an “anti-needlepoint” platitude, showcased in all its glory on the dreamy, 60s-inspired “Don’t Smile.” And it’s a one-eighty of a finale in terms of how Carpenter kicked off the record with the overly confident “Taste,” during which she promises her ex’s new “piece” that she’ll always be on his mind (and body)—the benchmark/gold standard for every girl that follows. On “Don’t Smile,” however, Carpenter doesn’t sound quite so self-assured as she chooses to challenge the cliché, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” Carpenter instead posits, “Don’t smile because it happened, baby/Cry because it’s over.” The former version of it is in keeping with that other false consolation, “It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.” Something Ariana Grande repurposed for “thank u, next” by singing, “Say I’ve loved and I’ve lost/But that’s not what I see/So, look what I got/Look what you taught me.”

    Carpenter is much less “kumbaya” about the demise of love, admitting, “I want you to miss me, I want you to miss me/Oh, you’re supposed to think about me/Every time you hold her.” This, too, is another Olivia Rodrigo-esque moment, particularly when she tells her ex on “happier,” “I hope you’re happy/But not like how you were with me/I’m selfish, I know, I can’t let you go/So find someone great, but don’t find no one better.”

    The chill vibes of the song (both musically and tonally) belie the urgency of Carpenter’s need for her ex to continue pining away for her long after “the end.” Because, lest anyone forget, Carpenter already admitted on “Please Please Please” that ego plays a big part in the reason why women get so upset over breakups. So it is that she elucidates some of her coping mechanisms via the verse, “Pour my feelings in the microphone [more hyper-specific references to being a singer]/I stay in, and when the girls come home/I want one of them to take my phone/Take my phone and lose your number/I don’t wanna be tempted/Pick up when you wanna fall back in.” This, too, being a sexual double entendre for falling back in…to her vag.

    But Carpenter appears to have the last laugh if one goes by the bonus track edition of the album, which concludes with “Needless To Say,” a shade-throwing ditty that finds Carpenter coming on strong with her “subtle” takedowns. For example, “How’s the weather in your mother’s basement?” Always ready with a barbing quip, Carpenter wields some of her biggest n’ bitterest moments on Short n’ Sweet, for an effect that proves her pop prowess is hardly a flash in the pan. And perhaps that stems mostly from refusing to let others tell her what to do in the studio, with Carpenter informing The Guardian, “I’m very lucky that I don’t have people around me telling me what to do—I’m also a Taurus, so if they did, I’d probably get a little stubborn.”

    When then asked, “Is she a tyrant in the studio?,” Carpenter ripostes, “I’m a tyrant in life.” Indeed, many a dictator/political mastermind has been a Taurus. Luckily for music enthusiasts, Carpenter is nothing but a love dictator…who loves dick (to conclude in the spirit of a Carpenter outro).

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    Genna Rivieccio

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  • “Please Please Please” As A Theme Song For Britney Spears’ Dating History

    “Please Please Please” As A Theme Song For Britney Spears’ Dating History

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    Perhaps of all the celebrity women who can relate to a song like Sabrina Carpenter’s “Please Please Please,” Britney Spears is the most equipped to do so. Even though it seemed like, at the beginning of her career, the “dating gods” smiled upon her with someone who was as then cachet-laden as Justin Timberlake. That notion didn’t last very long. What’s more, although Timberlake’s behavior and aesthetic should have been embarrassing at the time, it was instead the height of late 90s/early 00s cool (obviously, retroactive embarrassment caught up). Complete with Timberlake’s signature yellow “ramen hair” and, yes, the blaccent that Spears trolls so well in her 2023 memoir, The Woman in Me

    During their approximately three-year relationship, Spears was still in a cushioned period of being “America’s sweetheart.” Alas, once the two broke up and Timberlake went on what amounted to a “she’s a slut” campaign (or, as Spears put it, she was portrayed “as a harlot who’d broken the heart of America’s golden boy”), everything changed for Spears. The media attention she was getting only got worse and worse in terms of fixating on her “skanky” clothing choices and her so-called “bad girl behavior.” And it seemed that Spears, in part, simply decided to fulfill the image that the public had of her—in short, to give the people what they wanted.

    Thus, her first fling after Timberlake (if one doesn’t count the dalliance that catalyzed their breakup, Wade Robson) was none other than Irish bad boy Colin Farrell (whose image has softened since that era). Granted, Spears wouldn’t have described it as a fling. Instead, she noted, “Brawl is the only word for it. We were all over each other, grappling so passionately it was like we were in a street fight.”

    Although that brawl was short-lived, it didn’t take Spears long to find another fling opportunity that she tried to parlay into “till death do us part”: Jason Alexander. As the media ribbed at the time, no, it wasn’t George Costanza that Spears had eloped with, but some backwater childhood friend she found herself in Las Vegas with during a post-New Year’s Eve bender. “Forever” was hardly the word for their fifty-five hour marriage though. And Spears’ parents were quick to swoop in and do “damage control” by demanding that she get the marriage annulled.

    And so, by early 2004, despite Spears’ scant “body count” on the dating history scene, everything had thus far fallen into place to align with the Carpenter-penned plea, “Please, please, please/Don’t prove I’m right/And please, pleasе, please/Don’t bring me to tеars when I just did my makeup so nice/Heartbreak is one thing, my ego’s another/I beg you, don’t embarrass me, motherfucker, oh.”

    Unfortunately, Spears had yet to endure her biggest embarrassment of all: Kevin Federline. And just a few months after her drunken two-day marriage to Alexander, she would meet the odious “K-Fed,” arguably the worst thing that ever happened to Spears in terms of affecting her trajectory and leading it straight to a sham conservatorship. After beginning their torrid romance in the spring of 2004, Spears and Federline would be married on September 18, 2004 (though the marriage wouldn’t technically be legal until October 6, after the prenup was finalized).

    The ceremony itself was a surprise to the guests who had been invited under the pretense that it was an engagement party. But lo and behold, Spears instead offered her guests a wedding befitting of her “Southern trash” vibe at the time. This extended to a menu of chicken fingers, fries and ribs, as well as having everyone change into matching pink Juicy Couture tracksuits once the (faulty) vows had been made. 

    The honeymoon period with K-Fed was quickly over after the back-to-back births of their Virgo children, Sean Preston (September 14, 2005) and Jayden James (September 12, 2006). It seemed Federline was more interested in going out and partying than staying home and raising a family (cue the lyrics, “Well, I have a fun idea, babe/Maybe just stay inside/I know you’re cravin’ some fresh air, but the ceiling fan is so nice”). This revelation dawned on Spears after it was already too late. The disappointment of the marriage, coupled with her postpartum depression, made for a lethal mental health combination. Ergo, all the stars aligned to paint her as having a “breakdown” (or, in other words, a normal reaction to the shit that was going on in her life). By November of ‘06, she had filed for divorce from Federline, just two months after the birth of her second son. 

    In the wake of Federline, there were more “randos” in between, including her AA drug counselor, John Sundahl, and paparazzo Adnan Ghalib, who Spears met soon after shaving her head on February 16, 2007. That relationship lasted until 2008…because, under the rules of the conservatorship, Spears’ dating life would be much more closely monitored. Something Jason Trawick didn’t seem to mind. That Trawick was already Spears’ agent seemed to indicate to Jamie Spears that he had her “best” “business interests” in mind at all times. Maybe that’s why he suspiciously made Trawick a co-conservator in 2012 (yet another reason many speculated him to be a “plant” in Spears’ life). Then there were the subsequent rando pairings of David Lucado (who cheated on her, quelle surprise) and Charlie Ebersol. This brings us to 2016, when Sam Asghari entered the fray after meeting Spears on the video shoot for “Slumber Party.”

    While it seemed, for a time, as though Asghari might not be a shitheel ultimately using Spears as his cash cow like everyone else, things gradually revealed themselves to be slightly more sinister. That Asghari was also an aspiring actor only makes the following Carpenter verse all the more eerie: “I know I have good judgment, I know I have good taste/It’s funny and it’s ironic that only I feel that way/I promise ’em that you’re different and everyone makes mistakes/But just don’t/I heard that you’re an actor, so act like a stand-up guy.” Needless to say, Asghari did not. And Spears has since moved on to one of her worst selections yet: Paul Richard Soliz.

    Hired as a “handyman,” of sorts, on her payroll, Soliz has a criminal record and possesses the same “deadbeat dad” aura of K-Fed. Whether or not Spears has learned her lesson and is just using him to fulfill her fetish for “felon dick” instead of actually trying to turn it into a serious relationship remains to be seen. But maybe, at this point, she knows better than to bother delivering the silent prayer, “I beg you, don’t embarrass me, motherfucker.” Her long-running taste in men pretty much seals the promise of that embarrassment. Which is why Spears might also be thinking to herself, “And we could live so happily if no one knows that you’re with me.”

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    Genna Rivieccio

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