Halsey, Fuck Me Up

I cannot tell a lie—I am a Halsey stan. My appreciation for 23-year-old Ashley Nicolette Frangipane comes in waves—sometimes I’m infuriated by everything she does (for a while,) and in other moments I think, “Wow, no one has ever understood more, how is she so young?” That is...not how stans operate (I’d argue lifelong loyalty usually includes a bunch of forgiveness, and tons of cognitive dissonance over problematic faves when they do something problematic. I usually lose interest the moment something even begins to feel unforgivable.) On Friday, February 2, 2018, I am on her team again, because of her ballad “Sorry” from last year’s hopeless fountain kingdom and the new music video that accompanies it.


Halsey writes great songs. She has a personality and life experience that a lot of young pop stars should be envious of—everyone loves a story. She’s also whip-smart, and that comes across in her lyricism, her poetry. But Halsey is not known for her vocal virtuosity. “Sorry,” is the best of all her worlds, and one she’s never really entered before—here, on this track, my girl belts.

In a video, in the midst of a car crash and the destruction she caused (or is it a metaphor for survivor’s guilt? There’s a lot happening here) Halsey sings about her own self-destructive tendencies, falling out of love with someone who loves her, or confusing those feelings for something they’re not. She clashes crystal-clear phrases to build something that is, like, super complex and frustrating, beautiful and heartbreaking.


Just...fuck me up, Halsey.

Senior Writer, Jezebel. My debut book, LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands, is out now.

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