My head and my heart are emptier than my stomach that time I didn’t eat for three days. I can’t find the motivation to pour anything down my throat besides vodka and cum. I remember a girl with my name and a passion like a million roman candles; I’m starting to forget her name and what’s it matter what she loved anyway. I can’t find any use for myself these days and I barely leave my bed, I’m starting to remind myself of my mother. So I bring a rotation of men through my bed, degrade me, praise me, hit me, make me feel something. I’m afraid to touch a woman or i’ll ruin her. Like my mother ruined me or maybe I ruined my mother. I’ve got a knack for destruction, I light myself on fire and burn burn burn everyone along with me.
I’ve seen several people talking about how it makes them feel weird that Dog Years, a song that is explicitly about suicidal ideation, is something Halsey performs as a sexy song, and while that’s completely fair, I personally think the performance style fits the song really well, even if it’s uncomfortable? (In fact, I think the discomfort is a purposeful, important element of the whole song)
Discussion of suicidal ideation and sex as a unenthusiastic performance below the cut
The first time I heard Dog Years I called it “evil petplay” when explaining it to my friends because that imagery seems so deliberate. Halsey’s voice is getting all husky and low as they croon about what a good dog they’ve been and how they like a tight leash, and especially given their known love of/interest in kink, that takes your mind to a very specific and imo intentional place. But they turn it on its head — if they’re going to be a dog, then they’re an old, tired, weak, sickly one and they want to be put out of their misery and euthanized like you would any pet in that state, and that is very not sexy. It’s a visceral image that can be quite upsetting and uncomfortable, all the more so when paired with the very sexually charged chorus. It makes that chorus feel like more of a reluctant performance — she doesn’t feel sexy, she’s not in the mood, but it’s what’s expected of her and so she’s going along with it and hey, if she’s a good girl maybe she’ll get lucky and they’ll put her down. “I’m not here, I’m somewhere else” — they’re going through the motions of the performance and playing along with what’s expected of them but their heart is not in it, and they feel nothing towards it.
And I feel like that plays into the entire theme of The Great Impersonator as a whole? The whole idea of the expected performance and what that experience does to a person: going through the motions because you’re an entertainer and your job is to entertain and put on a show, but the whole time you’re in the darkest place you’ve ever been both physically and mentally, so sick that you truly expect you aren’t going to survive it. But you still have to do the show, you still have to make it look good, you still have to be appealing to the crowd, and so you have to play the good girl who loves her tight leash because that’s fun and sexy, and the rest of it is something you keep to yourself because people don’t want to hear about that.
I really like the staging of Dog Years on the FMLT tour for that reason. There is something so visceral about Halsey sitting in sexy leather lingerie while literally chained to the stage singing about how much they want someone to just kill them. Sure, it’s sexy, but she is stuck there performing for you, even as she’s voicing some of the darkest thoughts a person can have about themselves. How does that make you feel? Is it hot? Are you enjoying it? Should you be? That just fits the vibe I get from that song so well.
Of course, I could be fully misreading and Halsey could have had completely different intentions for this song, but that’s just how I’ve seen it?
dog years is about getting fucked, bound, beaten, and gagged by a sadist dom/domme of a God. And begging, pleading, with all your might that it will stop if you just behave. And if it doesn’t stop, at least just let me die. dog years is about being leashed to the stairwell, trapped in the house. Lighting up at the sound of the door knob jingling, hoping your Terrible Master has finally arrived home with a smile for the first time in years to ask you “wanna go for a ride in the caaaaaaar?!” but he doesn’t. He tightens the leash. you’ve done everything right and you’ve behaved yourself. Sat when told. Ignored the mailmen. Down girl. But it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna waste away on the stairwell. You’re gonna dream about the ‘farm’ where you’ve heard the other dogs get to go when their Owner God doesn’t want them anymore. The fun place. You don’t care if it’s a really just a bullet in the head. Your keeper is wicked and your body is oppressing you, you didn’t ask to be kept. You used to be the sort of person who would fuck and fight and kick to your death. But you’re going to meet it like a scared and submissive animal. Eat the chocolate from the hand of your killer and wag your tail. You’re nothing.
