Single Saturdays: February 11th, 2023
Single Saturdays is Five Cent Sound’s new weekly roundup, where our staff members share a song that they’ve fallen in love with and make their case for why others should give it a listen.
Screwed by Janelle Moane
Izzy Astuto
In 2018, Janelle Monae and their album Dirty Computer changed my life. The “PYNK” music video altered my brain chemistry and all of Monae’s statements on the fluidity of her gender definitely kickstarted some of my own questions surrounding my gender identity. But like many others who were just as enamored as I was, with a lack of content, they fell to the back of my mind over time.
But on Christmas Day of 2022, “Screwed” by Janelle Monae featuring Zoe Kravitz came up on one of my Spotify Daily Mixes, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. The song describes multiple ways the world we live in is the titular word, while, in typical Monae fashion, sprinkling in sexual innuendos, playing with the double entendre of screwed. Specifically, Monae discusses the superficial nature of pop culture.
The song uses a poppy tune and cheery tone to distract from the messaging, keeping the song light and carefree if it were to just come on in the background. The lyrics tell another story, though, with Monae declaring: “I hear the sirens callin' / And the bombs are fallin' in the streets / We're all screwed.”
The bridge has always stuck out to me the most while listening. Monae describes that: “Everything is sex / Except sex, which if power / You know power is just sex / Now ask yourself who’s screwing you.” Her sultry voice perfectly matches the haunting lyrics, which tie in directly to the next song on the album, “Django Jane”.
In the song’s outro, Monae gets serious for the first time, their tone changing to match the lyrics, as if to level with the listener. It’s almost a defeatist ending, where Monae sounds exhausted, as many do when they look at the state of the world today.
Now that Monae is back in the public eye, with her lead role in Rian Johnson’s Glass Onion, I hope that others take the time to look through their discography, as her revolutionary messaging is just as important now as it was in 2018.
Stargazing by the neighborhood
Daphne Bryant
The girl I like sent me a message.
She told me it goes from “chill and kind of calm to upbeat, jumpy and excited” in the chorus. It builds anticipation, its cadences are all perfect. She told me it’s how I act whenever I get into my little moods, and she sent a smiley face and it made me smile at my screen. And I got into one of my little moods, the one where I’m all upbeat and jumpy and excited.
“Started with a spark / Now we’re on fire.” The lyrics are perfect too. You want to know something crazy? We met on Tik Tok, you know, by some miraculous chance, like one of those Gen Z love stories. I like that I make her burn a little.
She told me it has a good beat to dance to. It does. I’m a dancer, and I like dancing. I want to dance for her one day, and give her her own private show. Maybe I’ll play this song, and Jesse Rutherford will serenade us.
It’s funny how she sent me this song because it reminds her of me, because I listen to it and all I can think of is her. Sometimes it’s nice to imagine that despite the distance we’re looking up at the same sky of stars, and I look forward to seeing her again. I look forward to the night we can stargaze together
Racing Into the Night by YOASOBI
Julianna Morgan
Japanese artist YOASOBI’s “Racing Into the Night” is the definition of—
The lyrics: ☠️🔪😵
The voice: 😊☀️🌸
That is to say, the truth of the song’s meaning and the sound of its melody are completely at odds with each other. It’s been said many times that Japanese songs have a tendency to be extremely dark and heartbreaking lyrically, while appearing bubbly and energetic on the outside. This entrances the listener with a beat akin to warm sunshine pouring down on their face to hide the shadowed knife simultaneously twisting its way into their stomach. In my opinion, the absolute best example of this phenomenon is, without a doubt, “Racing Into the Night”.
If listening to this song for the first time, especially if you don’t know Japanese, one is tempted to believe it’s a vibrant, cheerful tale of a girl in love—or something of the sort. The reality is that “Racing Into the Night” is a story about suicide. To give you the full idea, it’s based on a short story following the perspective of a boy who meets and falls for a girl suffering from an affliction known as Thanatos: a disposition inclined toward death. Time and time again, the boy prevents the girl from killing herself, but the god of death presents as one’s ideal person and continuously calls out to the girl. Eventually, the boy has had enough and, upon finding her about to jump from the roof again, he exclaims that he too wishes to die. Then he realizes the truth. He is the one with Thanatos and the girl is, in fact, his god of death. Together, they leap out into the night sky. So … that’s a lot to take in. But, I believe, combining this message with its lively, infectiously catchy beat ultimately makes for an even more exceptional, special experience than if the song simply went for a sound and vibe equivalent to its story.
In a way, the song itself is the musical embodiment of disguising your pain behind a bright, happy facade. Indeed, it is not possible to ever see fully behind the mask others wear around us, just as they will never entirely see behind ours. And hearing this reality portrayed through song is a powerful thing.
After listening to “Racing Into the Night” enough times, you start to hear something within it that makes you think “you know, maybe it’s sounded a little tragic all along.” It’s possible this is simply due to newfound understanding of the lyrics, but I think there’s a bit more to it. There is something deeper and more painful inside this song than what immediately stands out. But the feeling it emits, whether you know the meaning of the lyrics or not, is something that transcends language barriers, leaving a unique impact on all who listen to it.
This is the kind of song you could either dance around in your room to or envision yourself falling off a building to. So, what’s your take? Listening to it, what’s most important to you, the feel of the song, or the true meaning of its lyrics? Perhaps, like me, your answer to that isn’t as simple as it seems.
Nineteen by Tegan and Sara
Dionna Santucci
20 is a weird age. As a whole, your 20s are a mess of routine fuck-ups, late nights spent in downward spirals, and chronic breakdowns. It’s a chaotic era of life, infamously—but there’s something unique about being 20. You’re expected to know all the ins and outs of life as a mere freshman in the school of adulthood. It’s a phenomenon that’s been lamented over many times across the arts, especially in music, but no song encapsulates it as perfectly (or as sapphically) as “Nineteen” by Tegan and Sara.
“Nineteen” is the standout track on twin sisters Tegan and Sara Quin’s fifth studio album, The Con. The song discusses Tegan Quin’s experience of getting out of a five-year-long relationship and beginning to feel those same love-sick feelings she had when she was 19, only this time for a different person well into her 20s. In “Nineteen,” Tegan deals with the complexities of what it means and feels to be 26 and find yourself in the same place you were as a teenager.
Aside from being a heartwrenching retelling of Tegan’s relatable post-adolescence woes, the track is also a prime example of Tegan and Sara’s soul-crushing lyricism. The first verse immediately cuts the listener down to a puddle of tears with the opening lyrics: “I felt you in my legs before I ever met you / And when I laid beside you for the first time, I told you / I feel you in my heart and I don't even know you.” This hopeless-romantic outlook and desperation continue throughout. By Tegan repeatedly asking for reassurance, the song is cyclical in nature to illustrate the parallelism between Tegan’s past experiences and where she is in “Nineteen”. “You were all mine / Love me / I was yours right?” Tegan asks in the bridge, mirroring those who have ever felt like they’re doomed to care about others more than anyone could ever care about them.
“Nineteen” is an angsty take on being an adult but "backsliding" into your adolescent ways. When you’re 19, on the edge of adolescence, and teetering into adulthood, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing—and that’s okay! For the most part, no one expects you to have a clue about anything at 19. You’re allowed to be careless (to an extent). When you’re 20, however, you’re just as clueless, and yet, through some arbitrary construction of adulthood, that’s suddenly not as acceptable. So, you try your best to make adult decisions and respond to adult situations using what you learned at 19. That tug-of-war struggle between knowing what you know and what you should know is what lies at the heart of “Nineteen.”