![]() Doesn’t the melody sound like it’s spiraling? The perfect victim is silent so Lana becomes loud, stubborn, unbreakable. And here’s mystery Jimmy, the habit that uses her back. “Surf’s up!” When the switch flips it’s Lana’s script, The Experience of Being an American Whore, one of those trendy youth dramas full of sex, drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. She knows that being bad feels amazing-delirious, sharp like new money, concussive like the riptide bass that sucks us into the song’s furious, twisted fantasy denouement. Offline access to music scores in the MuseScore App. One subscription across all of your devices. Download and Print scores from a huge community collection ( 1,860,121 scores ) Advanced tools to level up your playing skills. Her exposition is its own kind of dark comedy, like, I know the app says I’m in Rosemead-can you come to my hotel room? Lana can be tender but the American whore is ice cold, smiling: She challenges us to ask how she ended up here and the answer is defensive and unsatisfying. View Official Scores licensed from print music publishers. Hear her sing the word “raped” with the same polite trepidation they’ll use to suggest that she asked for it: No point explaining, she knows what they’d call her. Little rivulets of piano trickle through the melody, wearing out the paint. Lana seeks the source of her ill humors and speaks of lost youth, a distant mother, predation, addiction, and desperate, toxic validation. ![]() On “A&W,” co-written with Jack Antonoff, she approaches her destination with a seven-minute autofiction epic that breaks like a storm cloud over Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd. ![]() “Ride” was her bid for total freedom and she prefaced it with a monologue about what that meant: broken dreams, the open road, and being the other woman, the one with no attachments. Picture vintage 2012 Lana in the Budweiser T-shirt. “American whore” sounds almost like “American woman,” and I’ll tell you how often people say one to mean the other. From its false start to Rodrigo’s devilish final laugh, “get him back!” is as messy, flawed, and ultimately freeing as a breakup feels. The quiet-loud dynamic culminates in a final whispered bridge, which sends the frenetic peak of the song’s last chorus into orbit. Over a fuzzy three-chord melody, Rodrigo waxes vindictive on the song title’s double meaning, conjuring alternately violent and reconciliatory fantasies that her therapist father (who gets a shout-out!) might attribute to “ anxious attachment.” “get him back!” quite literally sounds like the contrasting highs and lows of Rodrigo’s warring impulses, her voice taking on the quality of a school bully on the song’s rapped verses and a bubbly cheerleader on its exuberant choruses. On the deliriously fun third single from her second album GUTS, she rattles off an ex’s red flags with an amused detachment that channels the Waitresses’ Patty Donahue and Blondie’s Debbie Harry. One way or another, Olivia Rodrigo is gonna get ya.
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