"So imagine you’re watching this video as one of a handful of artifacts of American culture that survived the societal collapse outlined in David Macaulay’s seminal text Motel of the Mysteries... Put yourself in that headspace. What would you think this song is about?"
Since I have a hard time completely leaving the Motel of the Mysteries headspace (my latest realization was that future archaeologists would classify the self-checkout kiosks at my local grocery as altars to capricious minor gods):
A voyeur visits a maximum-security prison full of murderesses who offed their husbands in various, mostly upscale ways (with a horse, on her (destination) wedding day, by drowning, at Carnaval in Rio, by decapitating hubs and his gay lover, with a... monster truck(?), marrying an ailing moneybags only to smother him with a mattress...). We'd recognize it as Cell Block Tango gone luxe, though future archaeologists might sadly lack that reference.
The "this" that the murderesses think the voyeur knows is confidence (alas, misplaced) that one can get away with murdering one's husband and inheriting his entire estate, rather than divorcing and settling for a portion. The voyeur has a sports car, and no Mrs – because the voyeur is (as revealed at the end) a Mrs herself, who intends to murder her Mr with the sports car. After which, she'll fail to get away with the murder, join the other murderesses in prison, and cavort lesbianly.
She's kind of interesting from a "thinking too much about pop music" angle because her current sinister sexy image is the _third_ Tate McRae image launch and I kind of admire her for doggedly trying to figure out Her Thing, but also… what if you're just really only good at dancing lol.
Also my theory is that it is essentially a mood board of Pussycat Dolls songs, a la: "What if we slowed 'When I Grow Up' down to the speed of 'Buttons'?"
Speaking of PCD, "Sports Car" leaves out the most winning aspect of songs like "Beep" and "Buttons" (the corny, humorous, and extremely specific euphemisms) for the affectless blankness that is Tate McRae in a nutshell. But it sounds great! And I think the rappy fast songs work a lot better with her voice, or lack thereof.
I love this and want to suggest that “…Baby One More Time” is just as baffling and creepy as “Sports Car”—and that McRae’s track is intentionally echoing Britney. Both songs are elliptical, horny, and weirdly withholding. They don’t tell you what happened; they just drop you into a mood and assume you’re complicit.
Britney’s begging to be metaphorically hit again because her loneliness is killing her—cool, but what actually happened? Tate's doing the same thing: circling around the unspeakable, insisting “you know what this is.” It’s not narrative—it’s pop occultism: casting a spell that only works if no one names what’s really going on.
I fully support “plausible deniability murder girl pop” as a genre, though. Long overdue.
if it is about sex, cars, and violence, is it perhaps an adaptation of the movie CRASH, or possibly an adaptation of the novel CRASH....
"So imagine you’re watching this video as one of a handful of artifacts of American culture that survived the societal collapse outlined in David Macaulay’s seminal text Motel of the Mysteries... Put yourself in that headspace. What would you think this song is about?"
Since I have a hard time completely leaving the Motel of the Mysteries headspace (my latest realization was that future archaeologists would classify the self-checkout kiosks at my local grocery as altars to capricious minor gods):
A voyeur visits a maximum-security prison full of murderesses who offed their husbands in various, mostly upscale ways (with a horse, on her (destination) wedding day, by drowning, at Carnaval in Rio, by decapitating hubs and his gay lover, with a... monster truck(?), marrying an ailing moneybags only to smother him with a mattress...). We'd recognize it as Cell Block Tango gone luxe, though future archaeologists might sadly lack that reference.
The "this" that the murderesses think the voyeur knows is confidence (alas, misplaced) that one can get away with murdering one's husband and inheriting his entire estate, rather than divorcing and settling for a portion. The voyeur has a sports car, and no Mrs – because the voyeur is (as revealed at the end) a Mrs herself, who intends to murder her Mr with the sports car. After which, she'll fail to get away with the murder, join the other murderesses in prison, and cavort lesbianly.
Oh wow that twist at the end was great—truly you have a mind that dwells in the future…
<3 David Macaulay’s seminal text Motel of the Mysteries <3
San-it-ized for your pro-tec-tion
The Plants That Would Not Die
I am extremely tepid on Tate McRae (WHY DOES SHE SING LIKE THAT?), but I have to admit "Sports Car" is a banger.
She's kind of interesting from a "thinking too much about pop music" angle because her current sinister sexy image is the _third_ Tate McRae image launch and I kind of admire her for doggedly trying to figure out Her Thing, but also… what if you're just really only good at dancing lol.
Also my theory is that it is essentially a mood board of Pussycat Dolls songs, a la: "What if we slowed 'When I Grow Up' down to the speed of 'Buttons'?"
Speaking of PCD, "Sports Car" leaves out the most winning aspect of songs like "Beep" and "Buttons" (the corny, humorous, and extremely specific euphemisms) for the affectless blankness that is Tate McRae in a nutshell. But it sounds great! And I think the rappy fast songs work a lot better with her voice, or lack thereof.
I see McRae is the latest victim in your ceaseless hate campaign against woman drivers
👏 let 👏 women 👏 hit 👏 you 👏 with 👏 their 👏 cars 👏
Lawyer MC rapping over the intro, "Legal DISCLAIMER. This song is about two people having sex."
“Merriam Webster’s dictionary defines ‘sex’ as…”
I love this and want to suggest that “…Baby One More Time” is just as baffling and creepy as “Sports Car”—and that McRae’s track is intentionally echoing Britney. Both songs are elliptical, horny, and weirdly withholding. They don’t tell you what happened; they just drop you into a mood and assume you’re complicit.
Britney’s begging to be metaphorically hit again because her loneliness is killing her—cool, but what actually happened? Tate's doing the same thing: circling around the unspeakable, insisting “you know what this is.” It’s not narrative—it’s pop occultism: casting a spell that only works if no one names what’s really going on.
I fully support “plausible deniability murder girl pop” as a genre, though. Long overdue.
I thought of Britney Spears too. They're hitting the same notes, literally and figuratively
This is such a great and thoughtful comment on my dumbass post 😭 I love the phrase “pop occultism.”
lol--I loved the post! Tate McRae is taking up a lot of my mental real estate lately