I don’t know about you, but this lesbian has been feeling less than optimistic lately. Gas prices have reached $6 a gallon in California. The United States government has been passing legislation targeting queer and trans people at breakneck speed. The other day, I went to buy bread at the grocery store and one loaf of brioche was EIGHT DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.The queer community is in desperate need of a win. And when we needed them most… MUNA returned to answer the call.
I have been a MUNA devotee since the release of their Loudspeaker EP in 2016, when I was 16 years old. For ten years, their music has soundtracked my fumbling and stumbling into lesbian adulthood. From walking around my college campus listening to “Around U” on repeat in the wake of my first breakup, to dancing around my common room blasting “Pink Light” waiting for the avoidant soft butch I had fallen in love with to text me back, to sliding down my kitchen cabinets listening to “Shooting Star” to comfort myself after a ten-day lover permanently moved from Greenpoint to Los Angeles, MUNA has always been there in my darkest hours. To celebrate their long-anticipated fourth album, Dancing On The Wall, I spent hours bent over a clipboard using an Exacto-knife to cut out images of the band members that I would then collage into a zine about their first album. I love them so much I gave myself a stiff neck for two months straight just to pay homage to their music, and I’d DO IT AGAIN. (This zine is available to order through this google form, btw.)
Dancing On The Wall is a triumph. The strengths of MUNA’s previous records are all on display here: the thematic darkness of “About U,” the lyrical vulnerability of “Saves The World,” the unapologetic explicit queerness of “MUNA.” Naomi McPherson’s production elevates this album into a category all its own, drawing on the frantic synth pulses reminiscent of 80s New Wave groups to lend an addictive anxiety to the entire record that keeps you alert and on your feet. Katie Gavin’s lyrics strike the sweet spot between desire and nihilism that feels perfect for the current political moment. Love may tear us apart, but we can still find some solace in embodiment, in sexuality, in sweating out all our hope on the dance floor.
And now, here is every track from the new album, ranked from least to most likely to make you text an ex.
Buzzkiller
“You think I’m so easy to love
Baby, please, you’re just buzzed
I’m a buzzkiller
Wait and see, just give it a month
It’ll fade like a drug
Always does, always will”
Starting off strong with by far the most devastating song on the record. Don’t you just love when an album’s final song makes you feel like you’ve been run over? I personally see “Buzzkiller” in conversation with their self-titled record’s closing track, “Shooting Star.” Both describe the heartbreaking feeling of knowing an early, intense connection can never blossom into a healthy relationship, but while “Shooting Star” articulates a quietly hopeful acceptance of this fact and pride in the speaker’s growth, “Buzzkiller” turns the blame inward. Gavin firmly shuts down her partner’s limerence-induced optimism by insisting that once they actually get to know her, their desire will fade. Fuck, man.
This was an absolutely diabolical song for me to hear at this specific time in my life. After a lifetime of always having my mind occupied by one obsessive crush or another, I took an extended break from romance starting last summer. I kept experiencing the same pattern: insane limerence, throwing myself headfirst into a new whirlwind love affair, and ending up devastated when the other person realized the reality of me after a handful of weeks and decided it wasn’t something they could handle. It kind of broke my spirit. The past ten months I’ve spent actually getting to know myself and learning how to be alone have been some of the best of my life, and I’m finally starting to feel like I could potentially open myself up to the right person, but this song made me stare into space and remember every failed almost-something I’ve ever had. It’s kind of the ANTI-texting your ex song, so I’ll tip my hat to MUNA for saving me from myself.
Party’s Over / Big Stick
“Because I know you like the back of my hand, it’s true
I can make you want what I want you to”
This is easily my favorite track on DOTW. My only critique is I wish it was about 30 seconds longer, solely because I want more of it. I do balk at reviews calling it their first explicitly political song––“I Know A Place” live verse, anyone?––but it’s definitely their most explicitly political. “Big Stick” escalates from the point of view of an influencer encouraging overconsumption to that of the mainstream media manufacturing consent to that of the American war machine bombing Palestine. Not exactly a sexy or yearning-forward song, and it shouldn’t be. That being said, the meta-commentary and the breakneck tempo of this track awakened my 19-year-old baby activist self who was listening to Saves The World round the clock and just starting to develop an academic understanding of the leftist politics she had held her whole life. This was in no small part inspired by a girl I had a crush on at the time, a girl who read Hegel for fun and liked the same basketball team I did. Sue me. We never dated, so she can’t be rightfully called an ex, but yeah, this song makes me want to text her. Good thing we’re friends now.
Mary Jane
“Ooh, what’s she have that I don’t have
Why can’t I get you high like that?
And what’s worse, if I took you back
Every time that you went out back
I’d hear her name”
I’m almost certain there are exes of mine out there who are listening to this song and thinking about texting ME. Yes, I am guilty of cheating on my partners with a green-eyed woman named Mary Jane, if you know what I mean. In an episode of MUNA’s podcast Gayotic (FEATURING JULIEN BAKER, BTW), Katie Gavin says, “When people are in recovery and they’re like, you know, ‘My acting out, my drug use served me a lot,’ there’s some parallels for me. That was a place to go.” I feel similarly about my relationship with Ms. Mary Jane. I’m not proud of how addicted I was to her, but our relationship was also therapeutic in many ways. She helped me find peace at night when my mind wouldn’t stop replaying some of the worst memories of my life on a cursed loop. She helped me relax in terrifying social situations. She facilitated many close friendships I still maintain to this day. This year, she and I finally broke up. I have no doubt I’ll text her again someday, but hopefully our relationship will be healthier going forward, and far less addictive.
Girl’s Girl
“Isn’t it so ironic
How you’re giving away your love
Except to the one who wants it
You know that I want it so much”
Is there anything more frustrating than pining after someone who insists on dating the worst people on planet earth when you’re sitting right there? The speaker in “Girl’s Girl” has mostly made peace with the fact that the object of her affection is a regular Shane McCutcheon, running all over LA wreaking havoc on the intertangled web that is the lesbian community, but the bridge gives away just how much she cares. Not quite enough to reach out herself, but enough to hungrily accept the secondhand intel her sapphic spies are all too happy to feed her. Despite claiming to laugh it off, she still can’t help but pine for her ex’s affection. Schadenfreude can only take you so far, but it can prevent you from sending that text. It can’t stop you from typing it out, though.
So What
“It’s alright, it all worked out
Lots of people love me now
Lots of people
And all is well that’s ending well
And I feel great if you can’t tell
Lots of people
Love me (So what, if you don’t)”
On its face, this song is a #HealingAnthem. The speaker talks about the professional success she’s accrued and dismisses her former lover’s exit from her life with a blasé so what? The production tells another story: The melody is mournful, and the breakdown after the final chorus breaks my heart. The sarcasm of the lyrics was especially clear to me because I’m living it. Last February, I self-published a book of letters to my exes. It’s been surprisingly well-received, and it blew my world wide open, but just like Gavin I’ve struggled with having so many new eyes on me who aren’t actually seeing me like my subjects did. What does “fame” even mean when your heart is still unsatisfied and the people who inspired the art that catapulted you to such visibility couldn’t care less?
The song itself is not quite a text to an ex, but more like an Instagram story you post to perform success and aloofness because you know they still follow you and watch your every move. On TikTok, Gavin addressed fans who said they were proud of her for being in her healing era after “So What” was released: “I just want to let you guys know that I’m lying in the song,” she said. “I’m employing dishonesty and lies.” Aren’t we all.
Wannabeher
“Obsessed, step on my neck, yeah
Car wreck, she sent a hot text, yeah
I think that I might wanna be her”
This song addresses the age-old lesbian quandary: Do I want to be with her, or do I want to be her? Perhaps both. Perhaps that’s okay. I love this song because it perfectly captures that blurred line of so many queer friendships that, to me, is what makes them so special. My friend Olya put it best: “All my friends are hot to me, so why wouldn’t I be attracted to them?” I’m not femme4femme (femme4futch at most), but this song does make me want to text all the femmes I’ve known before, if only for makeup recs.
On Call
“I wanna be somebody to you
But if you just want a warm body, that works too”
Yet another trope inversion: this song is about putting your life on hold as you wait for an ex to text or call YOU. The emotions at play are similar to texting your ex, just operating in a different direction. You’re still letting someone who has no consideration for your feelings control your life. You’re still disrespecting yourself for a crumb of validation. God. We all need to STAND UP!
Gavin actually did speak on this song in a recent Elle interview. “Now that I’m 33, I’m still writing the song about being horny for the asshole,” she said. “But realistically, if the asshole texts me at midnight being like, ‘I set myself on fire,’ I’m like, ‘That really sucks. I have to get up early in the morning, because I have to take my dog on a walk, so good luck with that.’ You know what I mean?”
I would’ve moved this up higher in the list were it not for this quote. She wants us to free ourselves. She does not want us to spend our one wild and precious lesbian life waiting by the phone, and she absolutely does not want us to send that text. Nevertheless, the pull is strong.
Eastside Girl
“‘Cause I’ve been all around the world, and, honey
Nothin’ I’ve tried ever felt as good as
Eastside girls”
I am a victim of multiple California to New York bicoastal situationships, and as long as the circular professional pipeline exists between those two cities I don’t see the pattern ending anytime soon. Given that I don’t live in LA, the setting for much of this song, I’m choosing to interpret the Eastside as that of the entire country so that it’s more applicable to ME. And in that case, I will be the first to say it IS better with the Eastside girls. I promise you won’t even miss the ocean.
I’m such a fan of a “We Didn’t Start The Fire”-ass bridge in a song, and “Eastside Girl” delivers the gayest variation we’ve ever seen, chock-full of inter-community memes that made me laugh out loud: “Roleplay, ren faire / gender-confirmation care / house show, studio / roommate drama, rent control.” This song makes me want to text my exes to bond over how real it is. I won’t, but the urge is there.
…Unless / Why Do I Get A Good Feeling
“I should see myself out
Promise I will as soon as I learn my sense of
Good direction and my
Sense of proportion, guess I
Don’t have them, but hey
What are the chances they’re both in your bedroom?”
I’ve always referred to myself as disproportionate, so this one hit. Much like in “Buzzkiller,” the speaker in “Why Do I Get A Good Feeling” knows the love affair she’s starting is doomed, but this speaker is giving over to temptation solely based on a good feeling she has about the other person. “You and I know there’s no good reason,” she sings, “You and I know we should both be leaving.” The emotional landscape of this song is extremely similar to that of texting your ex. You know inherently it’s a bad idea, but at the same time, wouldn’t it just feel so good to give in? Thank god MUNA chose to sequence “Buzzkiller” right after this one to completely kill the vibe, because otherwise I fear we would all be in danger.
It Gets So Hot
“The house I live in doesn’t have A/C
It gets so hot, so I might as well daydream
It gets so hot that I can’t even think straight
And she’s so hot when she’s putting on her makeup”
After four painful years, we finally get to indulge in another MUNA summer, and this song promises to make it the hottest yet. If you haven’t spent a summer in a building with no A/C, you have no idea the levels of delusion you can access when you’re basically running a fever at all times. Listening to “It Gets So Hot” takes me right back to summer 2018, when I was living in an ancient college dorm during a humid New Haven summer and the air felt like a boiling anvil on my chest and I had to change my sweat-soaked sheets every other day. That summer was one of only two times in my life where I did in fact cave and text my ex. It panned out as well as you might expect: We got iced chais, and she told me I “meant nothing” to her. This was enough to scare me off breaking no-contact with anybody for four years. Oh well. You live and you learn. I know better now, but the glimmering synths in the opening notes of this track still give me the ancient urge to throw ass in the lesbian bar and text my ex after three whiskey gingers.
Dancing On The Wall
“I know how to hurt myself on you
So what, I’m calling you up again
I’m always saying this time I’ll get through”
The day this single dropped, I literally got texts from THREE different friends that were all variations on “ARE YOU OKAY?? DO NOT TEXT HER!!!!!” God, they know me so well. I definitely was not scrolling through my phone desperately looking for a South Texas area code I deleted five years ago, NO WAY.
In all seriousness, this track has truly earned the coveted spot of Most Likely To Make You Text Your Ex. Not only does “Dancing On The Wall” explicitly revolve around CALLING SOMEONE YOU SHOULDN’T, but it also does so over an addictive hook that’ll have you repeating this self-destructive desire on a loop. Songs are spells. If you’re not careful, this one might manifest your worst self, the one who laid down in front of the avoidant lesbian who permanently altered the trajectory of your life, let her walk all over you, and said thank you. Stay strong, baby. You deserve better than a bruise as a consequence of trying to love her right. We both do.
