music

“stupid song” (track 2) & “expectations” (track 12): what relationship do I want? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YPSPFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

“I met him at a party,” Olivia sings at the start of “expectations.” Likewise, the first verse of “stupid song” describes a party where she feels insecure. At both there’s drug use, by her friends (“stupid song”) and her ex (“expectations”). Is it the same party? Narratively, I would say that seems to be the suggestion, whether or not that maps onto Olivia’s real-world relational history. This pair of songs presents different perspectives on that event and its consequences. As the tale unfolds, it demonstrates Olivia’s character growth across the album’s story.

And wow, what a difference in Olivia’s perspective on her (ex-)boyfriend between the two songs! In “stupid song,” she longs for him and dreams of him, speaking of her affection for him with allusion to Greek mythology (“I’m a heart made of wax and I’m melting in the sun.”) By the time of “expectations,” those wax wings have melted away, and having fallen back to Earth, she admits that his positive perception of him was a delusion (“he wasn’t smart or funny, I convinced myself he was”). Her fear in “drop dead” wasn’t just paranoia, in the end; she really did make him up.

The first verses of both songs end with an emphasis on communication, and as a communication professor that makes me happy. In “stupid song” she imagines their interaction, longing to speak with him. Yet in “expectations,” she has prevented communication by blocking his number.

The chorus of “stupid song” is a passionate statement of romantic desire, and it is a desire that is unchecked: Olivia feels like she is on fire, and like she is a “car… without a brake.” Meanwhile, “expectations” presents her brand-new relational brake system in a non-nonsense, deadpan tone: future guys can’t be passive, or indecisive, or have a fake job. She’s replaced her total insanity in “stupid song” with a grounded rationality, pouring the cold water of caution and self-respect on the flames of romantic desire, yet still holding to faith, drive, and heart.

The second verses of both songs live in the shadow of the party. In both, Olivia is in a dress: in “stupid song,” lying passively on her bed when she should be in pajamas, while in “expectations,” she’s “rocking [her] mini dress with a vodka cran and an open heart.” In “stupid song” she is a picture of desperation; in “expectations,” she is full of confidence, looking with disdain at the guys that are so “desperate for loving, but… I’m not.” Really, “expectations” proves her claim in “stupid song” wrong (“And all the girls at this party are so cool, that’s never been a thing that I could do”). Now, she has become the confident girl who owns the social scene.

There’s also something to be said about the geography of these songs and the entire album. Toward the beginning of the saga, she is in New York City; by the pivot point in “purple,” she feels at home in London. After crying on the curb at LAX in “less,” she’s still back at home in Los Angeles in “expectations,” expecting to be disappointed by the guys at a bar in the suburbs. Geographically, we’re coming back around to where the album began, moving homeward; “cigarette smoke” will soon describe the scene of emotional devastation that her home has become.

When reflecting on “u + me = <3” and “begged,” I considered social exchange theory, which uses an economic lens to evaluate relationship choices. That theory says we compare our relationships to our comparison level. That level is essentially a threshold we need to meet in order to be satisfied. When I teach my students about this concept, I tell them that the comparison level is, essentially, how “high maintenance” someone is. In “expectations,” Olivia is saying that comparison level has risen; it will take more to keep her happy than what she tolerated in her last relationship.

No other pair of songs so clearly demonstrates Olivia’s character growth across the arc of the album. One line succinctly sums up this growth and the interplay between the two songs: “Gave my heart with zero stipulations [in ‘stupid song’], now [in ‘expectations’] I take careful consideration”.

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“honeybee” (track 3) & “less” (track 11): where is this relationship going? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YPSPFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

Within close relationships research, some scholars have examined relational turning points. A first date, a big fight, a wedding, or the birth of a child are some examples. When scholars do this type of research, sometimes they have people draw a chart of the relationship’s ups and downs over time, using that graph to identity those turning points.

If Olivia were drawing such a graph, “honeybee” would be a high point and “less” a low point. And these two piano-driven songs both mark big turning points: In the first, the relationship formally starts, and in the second, the relationship formally ends.

The first verse of both songs take place in a nighttime setting, focusing on time and healing. In “honeybee” her outlook is optimistic, exclaiming that “it’s true time can heal even the worst of wounds.” In contrast, in “less” she isn’t feeling well, her “body and head protesting” with a “stomach” that is “in knots” (which flows from the symptom list in the prior song, “what’s wrong with me?”). Now, the idea that time will heal is a vain hope that flies in the face of evidence: “maybe it’ll fix itself tomorrow, but I’ve been saying that like every night.”

Both songs also feature Olivia’s quietness, but that silence has different meanings. In “honeybee” she assures him, “even when I’m quiet I love you, baby, I promise.” Yet in “less,” there’s no assurance to be found when she says “I don’t wanna talk, let’s just go to bed or something.”

There’s also contrast in the meaning of their time together. In “honeybee” it is sweet (like a “sticky sweet tangerine”), intimate, and fun, as they “walk in the dark, hop the fence in the park” and as he simply “pick[s] [her] up, walk[s] [her] home.” By “less,” these simple yet meaningful dates have been replaced by bigger, costly events that are joyless (“our trip to Big Sur only confirmed this isn’t what it should feel like”).

In “honeybee,” his face is the lyrical focus, and it’s a lyrical focus that foreshadows what will happen in less: “I hope I never see what your face looks like going.” Then “less” tells us what he is like when he is going; he isn’t leaving in anger, but rather does “the noble thing” by giving her a way out that she’s doesn’t want to take. In “less,” the focus turns to her face. He watches her cry twice, first in the chorus, and then “on the curb at LAX.” And in “less,” Olivia acknowledges that he’s “seen [her] truly happy, so [he] know[s] right now [she’s] not,” a callback to the sorts of light, joyous events described in “honeybee.”

The terms of endearment also move in opposite directions. The word “honeybee” only occurs once in the song, and in the same line she calls him “baby boy.” At the end of “less,” now he is the one calling her “babe” as he speaks the words that will terminate the relationship.

After instrumental breaks (that, perhaps coincidentally, end at the 2:41 mark in each), both songs move quickly to the end. And in each conclusion, the focus turns to hopes and wishes. In “honeybee,” the final line “here’s to hoping” foreshadows danger; in the final line “I wish you loved me less,” that danger has become reality.

Undoubtedly, the album treats “purple,” the song where Olivia realizes they have become too attached, as a key relational turning point as well. On either side of purple, and equally distant from it, “honeybee” and “less” chart the turning points before and after that chart their shift into and out of romance.

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“maggots for brains” (track 4) & “what’s wrong with me?” (track 10): how does my body feel in this relationship? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YPSPFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

Last time, I considered how “u + me = <3” and “begged” are about the exchanges that happen in relationships. And an exchange-oriented approach to relationships is inherently individualistic: it’s about what I get out of the relationship versus what you get out of the relationship. But, when we get really close to someone, our mental “balance sheet” changes. We no longer think of you and I, but rather, we think of we. My costs are your costs; really, they’re our costs. Same for our rewards. That’s the subject of self-expansion theory, which claims that when we get close to someone, we include that person in our sense of the self.

That’s the focus of “maggots for brains” (track 4) and “what’s wrong with me?” (track 10). Both tracks use medical language to describe how that self/other overlap makes Olivia feel. There’s perhaps more subject matter similarity here than any two tracks on the album. In both, Olivia is sick and her relationship is the reason why.

In the first verse of both songs, Olivia is at home, bored, and not feeling well. She’s also unable to communicate these psycho-bodily sensations clearly: In “maggots,” she “tried to write, nothing came out,” and in “what’s wrong?”, she “can’t describe this feeling [she’s] got in [her] head.” Throughout both songs she remains homebound, but with one futile exception in each, going “to a party but only on principle” or “to the doctor, and she said I was fine.”

The chorus of both songs is a description of her illnesses, a bit like the list of symptoms she’s entering into Google on “what’s wrong?” In “maggots,” she is a “zombie in her body”; “what’s wrong?” echoes this in verse 1, as she is “out of body in [her] bed.” In both songs she is helpless in the face of her symptoms (“nothing ever seems to help” and “what can I do but think of you?”). And both choruses conclude with the diagnosis: in the first case, this is “just the thing that happens when my baby goes away”; in the second case, “I think you’re what’s wrong with me.” In other words, the problem is his presence, and then later the problem is his absence.

There’s even similarity in how Olivia tries to cope with her sickness: by drinking large quantities of beverages. In “maggots” it’s “a pot of coffee”; in “what’s wrong?”, a “bottle of wine.” One is a stimulant, and the other a depressant, which fits both songs and their respective halves of the album.

In terms of self-expansion theory, these songs reflect the deep level of self-other inclusion Olivia feels in this romantic relationship. When we are so close to someone, it’s natural to feel like part of you is missing when the one you care about is gone. In many cases that’s healthy, but as “this song “maggots” looks ahead to the pivot point, we know Olivia will ultimately decide it’s not. And as “what’s wrong?” looks back on that pivot point, Olivia’s heartache is that she isn’t certain she wants to have this level of self-other inclusion anymore. Her prescription has shifted quite a bit from wishing for anything, even “a tragedy,” that would bring him near.

Finally, there’s Olivia’s curious observation on “what’s wrong?”: “lately I’ve been spiraling.” A spiral is a circle… like a ring. Perhaps this is a subtle hint that the album is spiraling around, revisiting themes. The next theme we’ll consider are the songs before/after, which chronicle the relationship’s beginning (“honeybee”) and its end (“less”).

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“u + me = <3” (track 5) & “begged” (track 9): am I satisfied in this relationship? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YPSPFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

Social exchange theory views interpersonal relationships in quasi-economic terms. Relationships give us rewards: affection, status, support, gifts, belonging, etc. But, relationships also carry costs, whether it’s the emotional toll of listening to an upset friend, paying the restaurant bill at the end of a date, or the time and effort spent helping someone move their things.

According to the theory, we calculate the approximate rewards we get and subtract the costs, keeping a sort of “balance sheet” that tells us the “bottom line” of the relationship. Are we making a “profit,” or is this relationship a “loss”? We then compare that bottom line to what we expect to get out of the relationship, and if we’re meeting “expectations” (… more on that later…), we’ll be happy; if not, we’re unhappy. And, we also compare that bottom line to our forecast about what we could get elsewhere. If another relationship would give us a better “profit,” we might dump our current relationship and seek another.

Both “u + me = <3” and “begged” show Olivia running this cost/reward analysis in the spreadsheet of her mind. In “u + me,” the Board will be happy because profits are looking good. She’s excited about how he will “take [her] out to dinner” and “take her anywhere”; she anticipates that he will “buy [her] silver jewelry and all [her] favorite Cadbury.” Meals, bling, and chocolate; it’s a windfall! And she even gets a new big sister, too. No wonder she is satisfied, and she is committed, too, with “the feeling that [she’ll] never want somebody else.”

But by “begged,” her commitment (or “devotion”) remains, though her satisfaction has faltered. Per social exchange theory, she doesn’t see a better option than her current partner, but he certainly isn’t meeting her expectations, “overwhelmed” and “underfed.” No longer is she enamored with the idea of her man taking her out to dinner, instead preferring “to sit here silently and watch movies on TV.” Yes, she “will take what [he’s] giving,” but as the title of the song says, she’s only getting her meager relational profit because she “begged.” Like stockholders who expected the company to make $50 million last quarter when it only got $10 million, she’s dissatisfied with the bottom line.

So, while in “u + me” she dismisses those who say that “modern love’s a cruel endeavor,” in “begged” she wonders if it is a normal thing to fight against love becoming dreadful. In “begged” she’s hurting; in “u + me,” the opposite, as “wounds are healing.” And in “u + me” her satisfaction drives her to impatience, getting “way too far ahead of myself” and even pondering marriage at the age of 25, while in “begged,” her dissatisfaction generates a sort of stoic, patient pretending.

In a ring structure, the echoes point back toward the pivot point (here, track 7, “purple”). In “u + me” she is rushing forward in the car without a brake (see “stupid song”), and she’s even carving their names into the seats. It’s exciting and fun, but it foreshadows danger. Meanwhile, “begged” looks back on the wreck, wondering if there is a way to rescue a relationship that has become static from overattachment. One variant of social exchange theory predicts that relationships are most satisfying and stable when partners have roughly equal costs and rewards. “Begged” is a picture of a relationship without such an equitable distribution of relational profits; but, I would argue that “u + me” suggests they really never did.

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“my way” (track 6) & “the cure” (track 8): what is my will for this relationship? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YPSPFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

In the previous post, I noted that “purple” is the track at the center of the ring. On either side of it are tracks that pertain to confidence, strength, and the will.

Their contrast is striking. In “my way,” Olivia is defiant, self-assured of victory: “So, where’d you get that confidence from? Last time that I checked, I won!” Just two tracks later, she is full of poison and doubt, “unraveled,” longing for a cure she can’t seem to find. In one song her will is strong; in the other, it’s shattered. The two tracks are a mirror, reflected around the pivot point. After the crisis of identity narrated at the end of “purple,” Olivia’s iron will has vanished, suggesting it was perhaps a show of bravado all along.

Some other lyrical details demonstrate this mirror:

  • In “my way,” Olivia is drawing the lines on the map, warning another woman to stay away from her man. But, at the start of “the cure,” the ones who are “moving the line” are “all the pretty girls in the foreground of [her] mind.”
  • In “my way,” Olivia believes the other woman is “insane,” but in “the cure,” Olivia is the one fighting “bad thoughts.”
  • The threatening woman in “my way” finds her worth in winning Olivia’s man, yet in “the cure,” Olivia realizes that she has been finding her worth in her man too (even though “it’s not enough”).
  • And so “my way” Olivia tries to convince the other woman to leave (to no effect), while her boyfriend tries to convince “the cure” Olivia to quiet her doubts (to no effect).
  • The other woman lingers “like a bad perfume” in “my way,” while Olivia’s doubts linger in “the cure.”
  • The “my way” girl plays a game with “amateur moves,” and the Olivia in “the cure” plays a mind game with herself (“I used to play a game in my head when I’d date a guy…”).

Perhaps the greatest point of connection between the two songs is the presence of female competition. More than any other tracks, both “my way” and “the cure” present other women as a threat to the romantic relationship. In “my way” it is a specific woman who is pursuing Olivia’s man, and in “the cure” it is a broader chorus of “pretty girls,” including those her boyfriend has slept with in the past.

Speaking of mirrors, George Herbert Mead’s symbolic interactionism (a foundational theory in the social sciences) believes we understand who we are via a process called the looking-glass self. To know our physical self, we look in a mirror. But to know our social self, the “looking-glass” is the reactions of other people. How they treat us tell us something about who we are.

That looking-glass self is at play in the games described by this pair of songs. In “my way,” the actions of the other woman make Olivia feel how committed and defensive she is about the relationship. She’s willing to play the game and she’s sure that she’ll win it.

But, “the cure” takes place after the all-important pivot in “purple.” After that crisis of relationship identity, female competition makes Olivia feel like she doesn’t measure up, like she’s never “done enough.” And now, in her state of mental paralysis, it is her boyfriend fighting for the relationship, trying to remove the “toxins in [her] bloodstream.”

Rodrigo has said that “the cure” is the album’s thesis statement. That fits the ring cycle theory: after setting the stage with the album’s first half, it makes sense to put a thesis statement about the entire work right at the start of the second half. Elaborating on the doubts first voiced at the end of “purple,” “the cure” makes it clear that this album is a tragedy. Olivia has been trying to find ultimate satisfaction in a romantic relationship, but it will never be the cure, and instead her flaws will contribute to the relationship’s demise.

Not her flaws alone, of course. She’ll aim criticism at her man in the coming tracks. But in “the cure,” she owns that her own fears have shattered the force of will she had back in “my way.” The overidentification described in “purple” now reveals that a romantic partner, as important and meaningful as they can be, cannot solve all of a person’s problems. If we expect another person to do so, that is unreasonable and will damage the relationship, perhaps even leading to its demise.

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“purple” (track 7): what is my identity in this relationship? (Olivia Rodrigo’s YSPSFAGSIL, analyzed)

~ andrewledbetter ~ 6 Comments

In a marriage, people might say something like, “I don’t know where I end and my spouse begins.” Over time, in a close relationship, our identity becomes fused with the other person. But we don’t want to lose ourselves completely; we want to be connected, but not so connected that we lose our individuality. That tension is at the heart of “purple” (track 7), which is the track at the center of Olivia Rodrigo’s powerhouse third album you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love.

In my previous post, I presented, in broad strokes, the idea that the album is a ring structure. Specifically, I argued that the album’s tracks are arranged in pairs around the pivot track in the center, “purple.” I’d like to explore this idea further by looking at the details in those contrasting pairs. As I do so, I will try to stay close to the lyrics, while also drawing on communication theory to understand them.

This exploration should start at the “purple” pivot. Why begin there? As some have pointed out to me, the ring structure can also be described as a chiastic structure. Those familiar with analysis of Bible passages may have heard of it (yes, this literary structure is that old!), because it is common there. The term chiastic comes from the Greek letter chi, which in capital form looks like our letter X; just as the letter’s lines cross at the center point, so the ideas in the chiastic structure cross at the central theme. The purpose of such a literary arrangement is to emphasize that central pivot point. Therefore, it’s the place to start to understand this album and its contrasting song pairs.

This central track is about identity. Who is Olivia, who is her partner, and most crucially, who are they as a couple? Who have they become together, and who are they now individually?

On my first listen to the track, the superficial picture seemed sweet, even cute: “And I melt with you, your red and my blue, now I see the world in purple.” The color metaphor indicates their individual identities have combined, and become something different than the component parts. I think many couples, families, and friends would say that is a desirable, even beautiful, thing. And it can be… but there is a danger.

Much of my scholarship has focused on interpersonal relationships, and I also author a communication theory textbook, and so this song brings to my mind one of the most popular and influential interpersonal communication theories: Relational dialectics theory (RDT). This theory claims that we create our relationships through talk, and as we do, we generate and navigate relational tensions. Over time, research on this theory has discovered some key tensions that occur again and again across different types of relationships. And the most central, most fundamental relational tension is connection versus autonomy.

Examples of this tension abound. A teenage daughter wishes her parents would get off her back and give her some space, some autonomy. A father wishes he had more time to talk so he could connect with his adult son. Healthy relationships often strike a balance between connection and autonomy. In “purple,” Olivia seems to celebrate their connection… but despite her positivity, something seems wrong. Autonomy is missing, and at first, she doesn’t seem quite able to recognize that.

The first sign of trouble occurs in the second verse: “And we fight over who I’m hanging out with like a real couple.” RDT recognizes this as a common point of tension among couples: How much time do we spend together versus apart? When do we hang out with friends in common, versus friends that are our own? Healthy relationships honor that balance; as I write this, I’m glad my wife is going to see friends at a book club tonight rather than hanging out with me. In “purple,” given that Olivia and her partner are fighting about just that kind of thing, they don’t seem to be navigating this tension well.

The next pre-chorus drives home that Olivia and her partner are emphasizing their connection while ignoring desire for autonomy: “It’s a small world when it only can revolve around us two” sounds sweet on one hand, yet also lonely, and ominous. Then a deeper warning bell: “I had big dreams ’til I tied myself to you; now I’m all-consumed.” Olivia’s sense of personal identity, her autonomy, has disappeared into a black hole of overconnection.

One of my musical core memories is the first time I listened to this song’s outro. It’s a shocker, sending the album careening in a different direction than the first half. Almost as if she were an RDT scholar, Olivia asks the questions: “Are we so in love? Are we too attached?” No longer is their relationship a vibrant purple; instead, their color combination has ruined, “melt[ing]” into “black,” until “it just feels sad.”

I’ve ignored a relevant piece of RDT which might have fans of the theory screaming at the screen right now, and that is the idea of monologue versus dialogue. RDT celebrates the many voices that bring a relationship, family, or group into being. A family would be a boring place if all members thought, talked, and acted the same! But some families are stifling like that. They are a monologue, where one point of view dominates. RDT would rather our relationships be a dialogue, where the different voices, ideas, and perspectives of people combine into something beautiful. Really, music is that way, as different notes maintain their distinctiveness yet synthesize into a song.

What I find so captivating about “purple” is that it captures the experience of a relationship that has become a monologue rather than a dialogue, and not only in the lyrics. The song’s music feels peaceful on the surface, but uneasy underneath, as though something is being suppressed that shouldn’t, and that thing is about to explode. The song’s shocking outro is the first flash of that explosion.

So that is what Olivia has placed at the center of her ring/chiastic album: the question of identity, of “who am I in this relationship?,” of what happens when we ignore that question, and what happens when we finally confront it. The subsequent song pairs will address several facets of romantic relationships, yet will also connect to this central question of identity, which academic theory also identifies as a foundational question in any relationship.

Finally, I think this song also hints at the structure of the album. In the second verse, she notes that “now a toothbrush, a coat, and a pair of shoes all come in doubles (double, doubles, doubles).” It’s a clue, perhaps, that the tracks surrounding “purple” also occur in doubles. And there’s also the chorus, which describes how “our paths intersect ’til the lines formed a circle.” I don’t think Olivia is only talking about relationship formation. She’s also describing the structure of the album, where a “girl so in love” line and a “you seem pretty sad” line intersect (like an X!), here at the central pivot point, and form a circle: the album’s ring structure.

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