What’s cooler than being cool? Ice cold. What’s bigger than being Boy of the Year? Boy of the yearniverse! As in universe. That’s right, I made up another word.
This is the most ferociously confident song on the album. It’s vicious. It’s sure of itself. It opens with a sample from a 1950’s after-school special warning children about ‘homosexuals’ then proceeds to be unapologetically gay. It’s feral. It shrieks confidence to the point of cockiness. It’s my birthday! It’s my first date! I’m the whole world! I’m the president! I get whatever I want!
It’s got 80’s pumping synthesizers, references to The Talking Heads and Radiohead, a sampled scream from Frank Carter and the Rattlesnakes, party noise-makers, cheering crowds, applause, and an aggressive set of drums to knock you on your ass.
This is the first song I wrote for Boy of the Year, but I started it months before the others. But I finished it last. You see, originally I wanted a whole album full of bangers. But that’s not reality - the journey of self discovery ebbs and flows, and it hurts to become.
I wanted this song to project confidence, but I just wasn’t there yet when I started it. I was, when I finished. Party City pride punk.
lyrics
But all homosexuals are not passive
Some resort to violence
Sh
Ay, ay
How you doin
Ay, ay
Whachu need
Ay, you're
Goin through it
Stand up
Make em bleed
Sh, sh, guys, guys, guys
Uh, uh,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so
My ex still feels bad
When you beat it where my tonsils be
I don’t know why they’re mad
Cause they cheated on me constantly
They lied to me a lot
About lying horizontally
But that’s all been forgotten
Cause now I got autonomy
And I get whatever I wa-wa wa-wa want
Don’t let it ha, ha-ha-ha
ha-ha-ha-ha-ha haunt me, no
I get whatever I wa-wa wa-wa want
In the back and fa-fa-fa
Fa-fa-fa-fa-fa front, yeah
Wanna get high
Swallow your fears
Burn out your eyes
Blow out your ears
Wanna get high
Swallow your fears
Horrible guy
Boy of the year
I’ve been in the mirror thinkin
I should cut my tits off
We were never heat or I’d care
That that makes your dick soft
You could never spear her
Now you’ll hear him getting pissed off
Tenderize your meat, corkscrew
I’m a twist off
Say I’m still a babe and even though
And watch me ice across
I can code in python
But I don’t care for your micro-soft
Your dick see the future, dude
Then pull out your kaleidocock
And okay computer
No surprises when I don’t defrost
I don’t care
If you hate my hair
If you fuck with me
You’re aware
I should make you scared
That’s enough for me
I don’t care
If you hate my hair
If you fuck with me
You’re aware
I should make you scared
That’s enough for me
Wanna get high
Swallow your fears
Burn out your eyes
Blow out your ears
Wanna get high
Swallow your fears
Horrible guy
Boy of the year
Sh
Ay, ay
How you doin
Ay, ay
Whachu need
Ay, you're
Goin through it
Stand up
Make em bleed
Hear that loud that makes your ears hurt
That's the sound of gloves comin off
See that flag that makes your eyes burn
Waving now, then stuck in your boss
I’m not your kept bitch, I’m the
Boy of the year
Not your, dream girl, I’m the
Boy of the year
I’m not your, mistress, I’m the
Boy of the year
Yeah, I’m the whole world, I’m the
Boy of the year
I’m not your girlfriend, I’m the
Boy of the year
Uh, I’m the president, I’m the
Boy of the year
Today’s my birthday, I’m the
Boy of the year
Today’s my first date, I’m the
Boy of the year
La da, da-da-da da
La-da, da-da, da da, da-da da-da
La la-la da-da, da-da da-da
La-la, da-da, da-da, da-da da-da
Medusa is a "revenge pop" musician based in New York. They're pretty sure they subconsciously stole calling their music "___-pop" from their friend Zand, who coined "ugly-pop," but it's way too late in the game to undo it now.
supported by 5 fans who also own “boy of the yearniverse”
continuing from FIYH, this is blackpilled as all fuck; written and delivered with the raw candidness and self-mocking bitterness of a high-schoolers journal, and set to beats that are laser-focused to keep my distractable mind topped up on angry dopamine. A tight 21 minutes of weaponised disgust. Tom Colquhoun
