Iāve 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 thatās completely fair, I personally think the performance style fits the song really well, even if itās 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 āevil petplayā when explaining it to my friends because that imagery seems so deliberate. Halseyās voice is getting all husky and low as they croon about what a good dog theyāve 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 ā if theyāre going to be a dog, then theyāre 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. Itās 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 ā she doesnāt feel sexy, sheās not in the mood, but itās whatās expected of her and so sheās going along with it and hey, if sheās a good girl maybe sheāll get lucky and theyāll put her down. āIām not here, Iām somewhere elseā ā theyāre going through the motions of the performance and playing along with whatās 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 youāre an entertainer and your job is to entertain and put on a show, but the whole time youāre in the darkest place youāve ever been both physically and mentally, so sick that you truly expect you arenāt 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 thatās fun and sexy, and the rest of it is something you keep to yourself because people donāt 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, itās sexy, but she is stuck there performing for you, even as sheās 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 thatās just how Iāve 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 doesnāt 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 āwanna go for a ride in the caaaaaaar?!ā but he doesnāt. He tightens the leash. youāve done everything right and youāve behaved yourself. Sat when told. Ignored the mailmen. Down girl. But it doesnāt matter. Youāre gonna waste away on the stairwell. Youāre gonna dream about the āfarmā where youāve heard the other dogs get to go when their Owner God doesnāt want them anymore. The fun place. You donāt care if itās a really just a bullet in the head. Your keeper is wicked and your body is oppressing you, you didnāt ask to be kept. You used to be the sort of person who would fuck and fight and kick to your death. But youāre going to meet it like a scared and submissive animal. Eat the chocolate from the hand of your killer and wag your tail. Youāre nothing.
The early nights are confusing for the soul, but the forced retirement might do me some good. We went to a dance party. We were the youngest ones there and it was beautiful watching people a decade older than me find joy in nostalgia. I loved Anora. I miss New Jersey. I have been making Christmas ornaments by hand for my future family. I have been taking care of my mother. She has good days and bad. All of this in the few moments between the work and the work and the work. Confetti shot out of a Canon once the crowd already left the building. I feel as though it was all for nothing. Itās a dry, cold, itch. Maybe Iāll hide again until a tour when the sun comes back. Maybe I wonāt make a sound. Maybe Iāll sleep. Maybe Iāll choose different this time with my restart to zero, my bonus life I pulled from a box. And pull from a box with a needle every 3 weeks. Maybe maybe maybe. Maybe I fixed everything so I could do this one thing again, without realizing that one thing was what needed fixing. I am tired and I forgot how to have fun. I complain too much and I should keep it to myself, Iāve been told a lot the past few weeks. But the thing is that I canāt. I have an unrelenting ache and a never ending whine that must crank out of me like a tornado siren in the dark. Thatās whatās been wrong with me the entire time, couldnāt they see? Iāve always needed to be seen to exist. But now they donāt see me, and Iām still existing. Perhaps, problem solved. Regrettably.
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