Is there a song that's like

"Now he's just another (some thing) tonight"

But it might be he she or it's and the 'tonight' is a very distinct two syllables 'too-night' like blink 182 but it's not blink 182 I'm pretty sure

Ive Googled and Shazamd and sat here repeating it over and over but I've got no more words

Part Zero: An Introduction

Janelle Monáe is sitting on her throne. This is true in a figurative sense, of course. “If she the G.O.A.T. now, would anybody doubt it?” she asks on “Django Jane,” the boastful, rap-heavy song that served as one of the introductions to her latest album Dirty Computer. But Monáe is on a literal throne as well: sitting in Complex’s Studio 3 on a regal chair that mirrors the one in her “Django Jane” video (or at least as close as our hard-working video team could find on a few days’ notice).

Monáe is here to discuss Dirty Computer, the album and accompanying 48-minute “emotion picture” that is her response to a troubled world. Rather than couching her ideas in 28th century science-fiction garb, as she has before, Monáe brought her concerns to the present (or, in the emotion picture, to the near-future of the 2090s). She wanted to let her listeners know that what she calls “dirty computers”—people who are made to feel like integral parts of their being are bugs and viruses—can band together, find love, and fight back.

Dirty Computer is, Monáe says, broken up into three sections. The initial handful of songs make up the Reckoning (“This is how I’m viewed. I’m a ‘dirty computer,’ it’s clear. I’m going to be pushed to the margins, outside margins, of the world,” she told the New York Times). The middle section is the Celebration (“It’s like, O.K., these are the cards I’ve been dealt”). At the very end, there’s Reclamation—that is, reclamation of American identity. It’s a realization that, as the album’s final track has it, “I’m not crazy, baby/I’m American.” Appropriately enough, those are the themes we stuck to in our interview. But first, we talked a little bit about the album more broadly, her experiences living in Complex’s home base of New York City, and how a silent film from 90 years ago started everything.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

I want to hold up a quote and I was hoping you could read it to me. “There can be no understanding between the hands and the brain unless the heart acts as the mediator.” That’s from Fritz Lang’s 1927 German Expressionist film Metropolis.

What does that line mean to you? The film inspired pretty much all of my work and it inspired me to want to be the heart, to be the mediator between the mind and the hands; the high class [and] the low class; the have-nots and the haves; and use music to bridge that gap and to bring us together.

Since you’re in New York City, I wanted to jump back to when you lived here. You were in school in the city for about a year and a half studying musical theater. How did that training prepare you for what you’re doing now, which is essentially putting out a new musical with every album? 

I enjoyed all of my time at the American Musical and Dramatics Academy. I grew up acting and singing and writing and going to after-school Shakespearean programs. It was my dream to come to New York, and I’m so happy I did. I learned so much about reading music, and dance and technique, in terms of acting and my delivery as a performer. It also let me know that I did not want to tell other people’s stories. I had a story to tell.

One of the tricky things conceptually about Dirty Computer the emotion picture and the album is that in some ways, it’s a prequel to your earlier work. What was challenging or surprising about writing a prequel? I had the concept and the title of Dirty Computer before I released [her 2010 debut album] The ArchAndroid, so the albums are connected. It is sort of a prelude and there are little Easter eggs in the visual. If you watch the Dirty Computer piece online, you’ll see Mary Apple [played by Tessa Thompson]. I have a song on The ArchAndroid called “Mushrooms and Roses” that talks about a character named [Blueberry] Mary, and she shares DNA with this Mary Apple. It’s all related. It’s connected.

Part I: Reckoning

As Monáe mentioned, the concept of the “dirty computer” is one she’s been thinking about for a while. The idea became all the more relevant in recent years, as forces of hate, prejudice, and division gained power across the world. The 2016 election, in the singer’s words, “sped up” the release of her album. An artist ever-focused on life centuries from now was dragged by circumstance back to today.

When talking about Dirty Computer, you’ve said, “Those of us who live in the future are sometimes needed in the present.” So much of your work has been focused on the future. What do you think being so focused on that in your creative life helped you express when you came back to the present? What did you see that other people might not have? One of the things that’s important is that I’m aware of what’s going on now. I did have the tendency to always think about what the next project was or what else I can do. It’s like, “No, we have to pay attention to what’s happening here, right now.” I like to go where I’m needed. I wanted to celebrate the marginalized, and those folks that I felt needed the most amplification of their voices because they were not being heard.

I’ve read three or four different supposed inspirations for a lyric in “Screwed”: Everything is sex/ Except sex, which is power.” So I wanted to ask the source. Where did that line come from? That particular quote was inspired by Oscar Wilde. [Ed. note: The quote “Everything in human life is really about sex, except sex. Sex is about power.” is attributed apocryphally to Wilde] I put my spin on it because I wanted to support what it was that I was trying to get across: “You fuck the world up now, we’ll fuck it all back down.’ I just thought it was a clever wordplay.

I read that line, “You fuck the world up now, we’ll fuck it all back down,” was something you said in the heat of the moment maybe seven or eight years ago, and filed away? It did start with something that I just said casually. It was a reaction to my bus being dirty. The whole band and crew, we were all sharing one tour bus. I hate to say this, but I was on the bus with a lot of men. I’m not gonna say all men are dirty, but I will say that the guys I was on a bus with, and I love them dearly, they were just living la vida loca.

I came on the bus, and if you know me, you know I cannot sleep in a dirty space. It just overcrowds my mind. I only wear black and white, for crying out loud. Maybe it’s an OCD thing, I don’t know. I just came on the bus and I saw banana peels and underwear and it was crazy. I said, “You know what? Whoever fucked this bus up, y’all better fuck it right back down.” They laugh at me to this day when they think about me coming on that bus and saying that and seeing how serious I was, and I didn’t even realize what it meant. It’s something that we laugh about all the time, and I felt like it applied to our current state of affairs.

I SAID, ‘YOU KNOW WHAT? WHOEVER FUCKED THIS BUS UP, Y’ALL BETTER FUCK IT RIGHT BACK DOWN.’

One of the things in the emotion picture that grabbed me was the use of drones as the first line of law enforcement. Can you talk a little bit about why they play that role in the movie? Dirty Computer is near-future. Right now, we are dealing with drones. I was in a hotel recently and I saw a drone hovering over my window. It was really, really scary because I had never experienced it. Then I saw drones when I was at a plaza. I saw them going over the plaza, and I was just like, “What is going on?”

It’s a question that we have to ask ourselves around surveillance as a form of oppression, or surveillance also as a form of protection. Is it good? Is it evil? Is it invading privacy? It’s something that I have not fully settled on yet. I’m still forming my opinion on it.

Part II: Celebration

Dirty Computer is not by any means solely, or even mostly, a somber meditation on the ills of today. It is a frequently joyous record, particularly in the middle “Celebration” section. This is borne out in Monáe’s live shows, where she, her band, and a slew of backup dancers turn an arena into what the singer frequently calls “the church of the Dirty Computer.” The show not only runs through much of Monáe’s catalog, it also pays tribute in ways both overt and subtle to the history of black music in the 20th century, from Cab Calloway to James Brown to Michael Jackson to Monáe’s mentor Prince.

You were in a dark space when writing this record. How did you make an album that is so celebratory and hopeful? Well I would say that some of it is dark. I wouldn’t say that everything is. I think darkness is important so that you can appreciate the light. Balancing all things is something that I live by.

As much as this album is about me, I wrote it during the Obama era and then things changed [laughs], and I felt like I needed to create a sense of community for folks in these marginalized groups. At the concerts, when they listen to the music, I want them to feel proud and celebrated and seen and heard.

When you were making this album, you said, “I had to really think about who I wanted to celebrate and who I was okay with pissing off.” I chose to focus my energy and my time on celebrating the folks that I felt needed it most. Just to name a few: my brothers and sisters in the LGBTQIA community, black women, minorities, immigrants, lower class, working-class folks like my parents who worked as janitors and post office workers and trashmen. I wanted to focus on celebrating those voices that are not represented in the media as much as I’d like. I wanted to figure out how I could create a community and a safe space for us because honestly, when I take off my makeup, I take off my clothes as an artist and the performer Janelle Monáe, I fall into those groups. That’s my reality and that’s how I grew up, and I want to protect us.

One of the first voices you hear on the album is Brian Wilson. Why have him sing harmony on the title track? What relationship does that song have to the Beach Boys, and to “In My Room” specifically? I’m a huge Beach Boys fan. I remember listening to “In My Room” and loving the tone of their voices, and then seeing this documentary where they talk about the reason why their harmonies were so soft and low was because they were trying to hide recording from their parents in the house.

When I was writing “Dirty Computer,” I knew that this was an introspective song and I wanted you to really be in the mind of a Dirty Computer, me—what it meant to be, for the first time, reckoning with how the rest of society views you. I felt like his voice was going to be perfect to help tell that story.

“Celebration” is the middle section of the album, and I wanted to talk about some of the people you celebrate artistically. When you perform, you do a mashup of “Make Me Feel” and James Brown’s “I Got The Feelin’.” Can you talk about why you connected those two songs and what James Brown means to you as a performer and as a dancer? As a performer, James Brown is one of my favorites. I studied him and his movement. When I was making “Make Me Feel,” I could feel his presence when I started to perform it. It wasn’t until I started to perform that I started to connect the two and it just had a groove. It was like me and James were talking to each other, going back and forth through dance. I wanted to make sure that when you came to a live show, you saw us having that conversation.

This past weekend, I went to see a documentary about Betty Davis, who meets anyone’s definition of a free-ass motherfucker. Do you feel any connection to Betty? I love Betty Davis. She’s free, and she’s one of the godmothers of redefining how black women in music can be viewed. I respect her a lot and she’s opened up a lot of doors for artists like myself.

The “Pynk” video’s now-famous pants were originally inspired by David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane-era bodysuit. And there are a couple of characters in the emotion picture who have Bowie-inspired looks. I was hoping you could talk a little bit about David Bowie—his look and his music. David Bowie is, as an artist, so interesting to me. The world that he built out inspired me to build out my own world, as well. It let me know that I didn’t just have to be a singer. I didn’t just have to be an actor. I could mesh both mediums and tell stories.

You can tell stories through fashion, and I just wanted to tell the story of—some people call them labia pants, some people call them vagina pants, some people call them flowers—but I wanted to celebrate women. There are some women in the “Pynk” video that don’t have on the pants, because I don’t think that you have to possess a vagina or a labia to be a woman. We tried to think about that and be sensitive to it, and I think that Bowie has inspired not just me, but so many artists with his work and with his vision.

THERE ARE SOME WOMEN IN THE “PYNK” VIDEO THAT DON’T HAVE ON THE PANTS, BECAUSE I DON’T THINK THAT YOU HAVE TO POSSESS A VAGINA OR A LABIA TO BE A WOMAN.

The Stevie Wonder interlude “Stevie’s Dream” is a brief but very important part of the record. Do you think that with this album you’ve succeeded in doing what he asks in that segment, which is to express anger using words of love? Do you think that’s even possible? Stevie Wonder is not only my musical hero, but he’s like a godfather to me. I started out writing [the album] during the Obama era and then things just changed, and I had to be honest to where I was mentally after November 2016. I was just very angry. I was angry for a lot of different reasons, because I love this country like so many.

I went to go talk to him, and this is a man who got Dr. King’s birthday to be a national holiday. He has been on the front lines. He has done so much behind-the-scenes work. He spoke to me and he just wanted to remind me that I needed to be patient, that we needed to be patient and we didn’t need to give up hope. But it was important for me to lead with love. It’s a difficult thing. It’s difficult. I’m working on it. I don’t know if I’ve mastered it, but I’m working on it. I’m a work in progress, and I think it’s great advice.

There are lots of great vocal moments on the album. One that stands out for me is the final chorus of “So Afraid,” where you go up an octave and it sounds impassioned and strained. Can you tell me about recording that moment? “So Afraid” was a song I wrote when I was on the way to the dentist. I had a throbbing toothache and I had just taken some Advil and I had driven myself to an emergency dentist appointment. I had my voice memo by me and at every stoplight, I would just record different melodic ideas and I would record myself talking about things I was afraid of, my fears at that moment.

Then when I got to go sit down in my dentist’s chair, my dentist was taking too long—and I love my dentist, shout-out to him, he’s amazing. I had my mouth [held] open, and I was singing the chorus like, [sings with mouth open] “Ah ah ah ah ah.”

I just remember wanting that voice memo of me sounding like that to be on the actual song. So I ran to the studio afterwards. I called Nate Wonder and I told him, “This is how I want the song to be produced. I want to make sure that the thing you pay attention to most is my voice, and the fear that you hear in my voice and the yearning. I don’t want to sing it too high starting out. I want the first verse, first chorus, second verse, second chorus, I want all of that to be low, like an octave lower than what I would normally sing. And then when I just can’t take all of the fears that I’m experiencing, when I’m about to blow up, literally—because I’ve had moments like that—I want that octave up to represent an explosion.”

Part III: Reclamation

“Don’t try to take my country,” goes the chorus of the Dirty Computer closer “Americans.” “I will defend my land.” It’s a line that has roots in one of the song’s initial incarnations, from the point of view of a white male Southerner who is confused and upset by all of the dirty computers around him.

But in its present incarnation, in the album’s “Reclamation” section, it represents something else as well. It’s the determination of Monáe not to give up on her homeland, despite its often-vicious treatment of the people she holds dear. “Love me, baby,” she pleads. “Love me for who I am.”

In “Django Jane,” you talk admiringly about black artists like James Baldwin and Josephine Baker and Saul Williams who “fled to Paris.” At the end of the album, you make a different choice. You say, “I will defend my land.” What made you decide to end the record on that proclamation? Why is it important to be American? “Americans” is in the Reclamation section of the album. The Reclamation is about reclaiming what is ours. My ancestors helped build the White House. We helped build so much [with] our blood, sweat, and tears. These are my ancestors, people like my grandmother and great-grandmother. I wanted it to be clear that we have no intentions of running as Dirty Computers, but staying right here and reclaiming what’s ours.

That song originally had a different spin on it. Can you tell me about “Southern Man?” I wrote like three different iterations of “Americans.” One of them was called “Southern Man.” I live in Atlanta, Georgia, and it was inspired by some of the Southern white men that I encountered. They really felt like they were superior and this was their country, and we were just here. I was trying to speak from their perspective in hopes that when they listen to how they sound, they would realize that in fact, it was very divisive and, quite frankly, stupid.

Is there any of that left in the version we hear? Yes, there are lyrics that I left from “Southern Man” in “Americans.” I wanted to make it more inclusive with the different perspectives—you have the folks who are just clinging to their guns, clinging to their bibles, using their bibles as a whip, believing in superstition. You have so many different kinds of Americans and I was trying to make it as inclusive as possible.

The final words of the album are, “Please sign your name on the dotted line.” Can you give us any insight on that? The lyric can mean a couple things. It’s like, “I’ve expressed to you as an American from my perspective the things that are going on. Are you ready to commit yourself to this country? Are you ready to come over here and really be a citizen at this moment in time?” It also could mean a continuation of what is to come for Americans in the future.

Do you have a message for all the Dirty Computers of the world, for the people who are made to feel defective? My message to Dirty Computers who are made to feel defective, to feel like they’re bugs and they’re viruses, are negatives and need to be deleted and need to be reprogrammed, is to know that there’s nothing wrong with you. Your features are your bugs and your viruses. They’re attributes. They add value to this society, to this country, to your communities. Continue to lead with love. I hope that with this album and with this emotion picture, you feel more seen, you feel more heard, you feel more celebrated—and continue to be free-ass motherfuckers.

When Ariana Grande tells you she’s going to be just fine, believe her.

The sentient cupcake with a four-octave range says as much in her bouncy new kiss-off song, “thank u, next” — a farewell letter to all the men she’s loved before. And the most recent addition to that list is her ex-fiancé, Saturday Night Live cast member Pete Davidson.

The two were in love until they weren’t.

Grande and Davidson first announced their relationship in May, shocked everyone with an engagement announcement in June, and then, in the middle of October, called the whole thing off. That’s seemingly plenty of fodder for a break-up bop, but Davidson’s post-breakup behavior added some edge to the saga.

In a promotional clip for SNL’s November 3 show, Davidson used the breakup as a punchline, facetiously proposing to that week’s musical guest, Maggie Rogers:

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Grande didn’t see the humor in the situation, revealing as much in a series of subtweets. “For somebody who claims to hate relevancy u sure love clinging to it huh,” she wrote, without mentioning Davidson. She followed up with “thank u, next” and “k, that’s the last time we do that” before ultimately deleting them all.

The SNL promo and Grande’s tweets both made headlines, as many people wondered aloud whether Davidson would further address the breakup on the show. And then, ahead of the SNL episode, Grande tweeted hints about a new album and song that would reference Davidson and the breakup:

The displeasure in Grande’s deleted tweets, along with the tease of a new song and the potential for Davidson to make more awkward jokes, amped up anticipation for SNL.

Then, 30 minutes before the episode premiered, Grande released “thank u, next.”

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But the biggest surprise was the content of the song itself. Grande’s tweets might have set everyone up to expect a thrashing laced with pettiness, but “thank u, next” was actually a pump-fake. Far from the overt diss track many expected, the song was more about finding love with in herself:

I met someone else We havin’ better discussions I know they say I move on too fast But this one gon’ last ’Cause her name is Ari And I’m so good with that.

For his part, Davidson did comment on the breakup during SNL, gracefully acknowledging Grande during the show’s Weekend Update and saying, “She’s a wonderful, strong person, and I genuinely wish her all the happiness in the world.”

Though, after Grande’s power move, Davidson’s response was an afterthought (especially after he drew backlash for jokes on another topic entirely).

The 25-year-old Grande followed up the song release with a tweet on Sunday morning, echoing the idea that she is truly grateful:

thank u ♡ for hearing me and for making me feel so not alone i truly am grateful. no matter how painful! i’m thankful and i love u. breathin visual this week too! thank u, next pic.twitter.com/Qq62vjM0gI

— Ariana Grande (@ArianaGrande) November 5, 2018

Churning out hits is what we’ve come to expect from Grande, but what makes her a remarkable pop star isn’t just that “thank u, next” is a great song but also the latest example of Grande’s toughness and grace in the face of personal tragedy.

A year and a half ago, in May 2017, a suicide bomber attacked a concert that Grande was performing in Manchester. This September, just a few months into her now-ended engagement with Davidson, Grande’s ex-boyfriend Mac Miller died of a drug overdose — and a faction of his fans blamed her for his death.

Through all of this, Grande has handled herself with grace. After the Manchester attack, she hosted a benefit concert that raised $13 million for the We Love Manchester Emergency Fund. This summer, she released an album called Sweetener, which drew raves — some critics called it the pop album of the year. After Miller’s death, she paid tribute to him in a way that felt genuine and honest:

She also honors Miller in “thank u, next” — a key reason why the song, which is the sonic equivalent of strawberry champagne, heart emojis, and bubble bath, is so illustrative of her arc as a performer. Like Grande herself, beneath its sweetness is a story of empowerment, resilience, and maturity. That’s a rarity in this age of pop culture where taking the low, petty road has been praised. And it’s what makes Grande a breath of fresh air, and an unforgettable pop star.

“Petty” has become a default setting for pop culture.

It is now commonplace for many public figures to respond to any slight or a perceived wrong by shining a spotlight on it, forming a grudge, and then dragging whoever wronged them at the next appropriate opportunity. Bonus points are available to anyone who can pull this off exclusively through the use of oblique innuendo, without naming names.

Taylor Swift has spun pettiness into some pretty successful songs, and turned her 2017 album Reputation into a scavenger hunt for mentions of all her feuds. Drake has done the same, referencing beefs at his concerts and taking shots at his rivals in songs that are seemingly written and shipped overnight. Armie Hammer insulted a journalist who dared to write a negative thinkpiece about his acting career.

Usually, these moments of pettiness are escalated and egged on by thousands of fans, who delight in watching celebrities bicker with each other.

So after Grande had expressed her displeasure at Davidson’s jokes and then teased the release of “thank u, next,” there was an anticipation that the song would reveal some less-than-flattering things about Davidson. In the end, the true surprise was how sweet it was:

Thought I’d end up with Sean But he wasn’t a match Wrote some songs about Ricky Now I listen and laugh Even almost got married And for Pete I’m so thankful Wish I could say thank you to Malcolm Cause he was an angel

Grande’s lyrics refer to four of her ex-boyfriends: Big Sean, Ricky Alvarez, Davidson, and Mac Miller. She comments on each relationship, but without any insults or low blows. Sean, for example, simply “wasn’t a match.” And no matter how ill-advised her whirlwind love affair with Davidson might have seemed to many of her fans (not least because it involved moving into a Manhattan apartment but living without forks), Grande specifically says that she’s “thankful” for him.

But it’s what she says about Miller that helps drive home the spirit of “thank u, next.” The disarming way she refers to him as Malcolm, acknowledging his death and his soul, is arguably more scintillating, tender, and newsworthy than anything about Davidson in the song.

Grande also sings about what she’s learned from each of these past relationships, and how they’ve made her a better person:

One taught me love One taught me patience And one taught me pain Now, I’m so amazing.

She doesn’t credit the love, patience, or pain to any of her exes in particular. And by the end of the chorus, it’s clear she’s ready to move on. At its core, “thank u, next” isn’t about Grande dissing her ex-boyfriends, it’s about Grande embracing herself.

This theme continues through the bridge, where Grande sings sweetly about getting married someday — something she only wants to do once:

One day I’ll walk down the aisle Holding hands with my mama I’ll be thanking my dad ’Cause she grew from the drama Only wanna do it once, real bad Gon’ make that shit last God forbid something happens Least this song is a smash

The result is the “sweetest, the sanest, and also, gloriously, the most cutting diss track of an especially cutting year” according to the Ringer’s Rob Harvilla, who argues that Grande’s maturity and cogency are what gives the song power — that in “thank u, next,” she’s showing that she doesn’t need to trash Davidson to prove that she’s better off without him.

“It’s a generosity rarely spotted these days, when it is so much more tempting to clap back with vinegar instead of honey,” Quinn Moreland wrote at Pitchfork. “The high road might not be the easiest path, but Grande offers to lead us there by her own example.”

“While Grande could’ve released a scathing track, she dropped one that was, instead, respectful and mature,” Amanda Arnold explained at The Cut.

Her fans responded immediately, replaying the song over and over. It shot up to the top of the Spotify US and Global Charts, tallying 8 million global daily plays and breaking the company’s single-day streaming record for a female artist. It made waves on Twitter, where, according to a company representative, the phrase “thank u, next” was tweeted over 1.5 million times in just a few days. Justin Bieber called it his favorite song. It even inspired a meme:

And now it’s in contention to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

Pop stars and the industry that creates them are salespeople. And more and more, a huge part of the sale isn’t just how a pop star looks (with some glaring exceptions, it’s difficult to find an unattractive pop star) but rather the image he or she has crafted.

Beyoncé sells a power fantasy in untouchable excellence and relentless dedication. Taylor Swift sells an underdog story, having gone a Girl Next Door type to girl squad leader to revenge monger. Lady Gaga is a creature of transformation.

And the question underneath all this imagecraft is whether we’re ever seeing the “real” version of who pop stars are versus the narrative of they’re selling.

When Beyoncé sings about Jay Z’s alleged cheating, how much of that is a measured move by a singer notorious for controlling her image, her albums, and even Anna Wintour? When Taylor Swift sings about Kanye’s crooked stage, or about a paper airplane necklace in reference to Harry Styles, is she conveying genuine feelings of revenge or longing, or have her lyrics been carefully calculated to send a specific message and appease an audience?

We could ask the same kinds of questions about Grande and her whirlwind love affair with Davidson.

Grande’s relationship with Davidson began in May, and their engagement was confirmed on June 15. The relationship seemingly materialized in the short period of time between Grande releasing two new singles — “no tears left to cry” on April 20 and “the light is coming” on June 20. Pre-orders of Sweetener began the same week that the latter song came out, five days after the couple confirmed their engagement.

Grande and Davidson’s relationship (which has since been portmanteau’d by some into “Grandson”) and the abruptness of their engagement drove interest in the album, which also contains a song named after him. And even with the dissolution of the relationship, public interest in the couple’s breakup is helping Grande sell music.

Grandson could be either the most convenient and album-friendly relationship ever, or a savvy publicity stunt.

With so much intrigue swirling, there was a question of whether Sweetener would be all about the Grandson relationship, offering more details about the inner lives of Grande and Davidson. Perhaps Sweetener was going to be fairy tale love song performed by a princess who had finally found “the one.”

But just like “thank u” turned out to be a love song from Grande to herself, what Sweetener turned out to be was an album of resilience.

Sweetener was not about Davidson but rather a glimpse into Grande’s response, at times a joyous one, to the tragedy that changed her life.

On May 22, 2017, after Grande finished performing at Manchester Arena, a suicide bomber attacked the concert, killing 22 people and injuring 59 more — a tragedy that completely eclipses her relationship with Davidson.

“It’s the absolute worst of humanity,” Grande told Time one year later, in May 2018 in an interview about Sweetener. That’s why I did my best to react the way I did. The last thing I would ever want is for my fans to see something like that happen and think it won.”

The critically lauded album was a triumph, but it’s easy to imagine how difficult it was for Grande to make and sing songs about her life in the wake of the attack.

Perhaps that’s where the undeniable, winsome appeal of Grande lies: beyond her catchy songs and in how she has consistently proved that she’s a lilliputian pop princess with the toughness of a tank.

As with any pop star, you don’t have to agree with what Grande is singing about, whether it be sex or God being a woman or both. But you can admire the guts it takes to keep singing after the rough year that she’s been through. And in “thank u, next,” when she sings about picking herself up and believing in herself after a breakup, that’s something we all want to believe in.

Original Source -> Ariana Grande’s greatest asset isn’t her amazing voice. It’s her resilience.

via The Conservative Brief

CHRISTIE HENNESSY REMEMBERED IN BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE SHOW FROM OLD FRIEND AONGHUS MCANALLY

It’s hard to believe it, but it’s coming up on ten years since the late Christie Hennessy, a singer/songwriter of extraordinary tenderness and huge heart, left this world behind for the next part of his journey. But he left behind a legacy of music which is loved as much today as when Christie himself still walked and laughed among us. With songs like ‘Don’t Forget Your Shovel’ (made famous by Christy Moore), ‘All The Lies That You Told Me’ (Frances Black), ‘Messenger Boy’ (Mike Denver), and so many more which Christie himself brought to our hearts from his own, such as ‘Lonely Boy’ and ‘Roll Back The Clouds’, it’s little wonder that Christie is still very much a part of Ireland’s musical landscape.

Mike Denver, one of many artists to record ‘Messenger Boy’

Another reason is undoubtedly the work his close friend Aonghus McAnally has invested in making sure that Christie, and his music, are still celebrated, and perhaps now more than ever, through his tribute show in Christie’s honour. As Aonghus prepares to bring that show, The Platinum Collection Tour, to the Tullamore Court Hotel on December 7th, I had the pleasure of spending some time with him recently, and we began by chatting about how the friendship Aonghus and Christie came to share first began and developed…

“It started in the nineties, I was presenting a programme called ‘Both Sides Now’ on RTE Radio 1, and I went to London to interview him. I went to his house to meet him and we had a good long chat there. And because he was a guitar player, and I’m a guitar player, we hit it off immediately. And I loved his sense of humour, and he loved whatever I was at, and we picked up guitars and just started jammin’ and playin’. He was a great guitar player, his finger-pickin’ style, a kind of a clawhammer pickin’ style that he had, was very unique and strong. He was actually asked by Fleetwood Mac to join them at one stage, he was that good. But anyway, we struck up a friendship and stayed in touch. Then when his album came out he asked me would I launch it for him in Dublin. Then I played with him at the Gaiety Theatre, I came on for the encore for one of the gigs. There’s a song on his album, ‘A Day In The Life’, called ‘The Box’, and there’s a poem that precedes it, and I recorded that poem for him. I flew back to London again to do the interview with him that he used for his EPK (Electronic Press Kit), and we just stayed in contact like that for many years. Then sadly when he passed away, his wife Jill, and Hermione and Amber [his daughters], and his son Tim, asked me if I’d deliver the eulogy on their behalf at the funeral in Tralee, which was an extraordinary honour for me.”

Christy Moore, who recorded ‘Don’t Forget Your Shovel.’

To those of us who only had the pleasure of knowing Christie through his music, could Aonghus share a little about how special Christie was as a person?

“Ah he was brilliant. And then, as I discovered that he couldn’t read or write, I realised that the quality of his writing…I mean for a fella who left school at eleven and a half – he hated school, he couldn’t wait to get out – but he’s so special because his lyrics have a simplicity about them. Then when he combines that with beautiful melodies, he just, in my opinion, he captures a wonderful depth of emotion. There’s a couple of things I want to do on this tour. One, obviously, being to celebrate his life. Because people might know him mainly for ‘Don’t Forget Your Shovel’, or the funny Kerry accent, ya know, but he has gorgeous songs about life, about love, about death, about depression. And I wanted to showcase those songs as well. And I think as I tell the story through the night in the show, people get an appreciation of the man, so they get to know how special he was, how gentle he was, how loving he was. And how difficult a time he had, in terms of reading and writing, and depression, and of course facing the reality of not being well and knowing he was going to die. An American guy came up to me after the Cork concert and said, ‘I don’t know you, I don’t know Christie, I just came along with some friends tonight, but boy do I know this guy now!’ You see, as I tell the story, his story, you really do get to know Christie. I play both myself and him in the show, I just morph into speaking as Christie, it’s a seamless bit of theatre.”

The late, great, and much loved Christie Hennessy.

Aonghus toured this show last year as well, but when, I wondered, did the idea of first putting together a show in Christie’s memory begin to form?

“Well, what happened was about six years ago I did a play called ‘When Jolie Met Christie’, by Sean McCarthy, a guy in Cork. Christie had a fascination with the vaudeville singer Al Jolson, and obviously Al was dead and Christie was dead, but in the play Al would tell Christie’s story having met him in the after-life. And within that there was ten or twelve of Christie’s songs. And it was a great success. But I wanted then to do a show with more of his songs, and to just concentrate on his life rather than the Jolson connection. So I wrote this show with twenty-two of his songs in it, and the narrative from the point of view of my interaction with him, and stuff that Christie would have said over the years, and melding the two together. About three years ago I started work on putting together the idea of this show celebrating Christie. We toured it last year, originally planning ten shows, one of which was the National Concert Hall, and it sold out almost immediately, almost to my surprise. So they asked us to do a second show, and that sold out as well which was incredible. And every single night that we’ve performed this show it’s ended up in a standing ovation, with people laughing, cheering, crying, singing, whatever. So I put together a twenty-six date tour this time, including the big, big show on the 10th of December, in the Bord Gais Energy Theare, which is a two-thousand-two hundred seater. And poignantly, it’s also going to be the eve of his anniversary, he died on the 11th of December 2007, so that’s going to be a very, very special night. It’ll be the biggest night of my career in forty years.”

Aonghus brings Christie back to life in story and song.

Because Aonghus and Christie had been such close friends, I imagined it must become quite emotional for Aonghus to perform a whole show of Christie’s songs, especially as his presence, I’m sure, is very much in the room for both Aonghus and the audience. Was I right in thinking that?

“Absolutely. Many, many nights on the tour I end up with it catching me at the very end, I’ll get people coming up to me and saying, ‘You were crying at the very end’, and I just say I was. Because obviously, yeah, it’s very emotional because it’s a very personal story. I think part of the magic of why the show works is that it’s not simply me singing songs of Roy Orbison or Glen Campbell, or someone. It’s a very personal, emotional story that I have a deep connection with, and that does come through across the show. I’m fairly whacked after it. It’s something I put my heart and my soul into. And ya know, I see huge parallels in my own life and Christie’s life. Like, his song, ‘Roll Back The Clouds’, which is the best song ever written about the reality of showbusiness – from auditioning, trying to get a break, being heard, the usual don’t-phone us, we’ll phone you – and the line, ‘I give my heart to every part.’ But it’s a wonderful, emotional rollercoaster for me to be part of. And as an artist, and a performer, there is no better oxygen than to hear an audience loving a show, and cheering and clapping, ya know. To see so many shows sold out, including in Tralee, his home town, where we’ve had to put on a second, it’s brilliant. I’m loving every second of it, and I feel privileged to be able to do it.”

The statue of Christie in his hometown of Tralee.

I once heard Aonghus comment that the ten minutes before a show begins is the most exciting time for him. What is it about those moments that gets his adrenaline flowing, and does that same feeling extend to his work on radio and television as well?

“It does. Now I don’t get nervous. I often hear people saying, oh I couldn’t perform on stage, I’d be too nervous. But that’s not what it is with me. I find it to be a multi-layered kind of emotion. Because for one thing, you want everything to be right, the people coming to the show deserve it to be the very best that it can be. So I’m meticulous in my planning, my production. I have wonderful people around me, I have brilliant lights and brilliant sound. Lucy Polden does my sound, and a girl called Maggie Donovan does my lighting, and it’s Denice Doyle who’s the violinist, and Ivan McKenna who’s my musical director. These are top-notch people who have the same passion for the show that I have. We’re there at the theatre from twelve o’ clock, starting to get everything in. I have a rehearsal myself at four o’ clock, then we have a full musicians rehearsal at six o’ clock, then we have a break and get ready for the show. With ten minutes to go, you’re already changed into your costume, you’ve got your stage make-up on, you’ve done your warm-up exercises, you’re ready to roll! So there’s an excitement and an adrenaline there. But also, I feel the sense of this being very important work for me to honour Christie properly. And the worst thing in the world for me – which I don’t think would ever be – but if I was to have a lacklustre performance, it would be besmirching Christie’s memory. And to honour his memory is the whole point of this. He didn’t really get the recognition that he fully deserved because his illness took him from us, ya know.”

Aonghus and Denice warm-up with a selfie!

Based on all of his experience across the performance platforms of stage, radio, and television, are there skills or personality traits which Aonghus feels are important to, or transferable between, all three?

“Well, all three are very different, I suppose. I think in radio you have to have an intimacy. Radio is a wonderful medium because it paints the pictures in your head. That’s why drama works so well, because with a sound effect and a voice saying to you, ‘As I came over the hill I saw beneath me ten thousand men on horses charging towards me, and I felt alone and isolated’, and you put in the sound of thundering hooves, and you’re there! I do a lot of late night radio, I present a lot of Late Date [one of RTE Radio 1’s most popular shows] during the year, and I get people saying how it feels like I’m talking just to them, and I love that kind of intimacy. Television is very different in the sense that just two minutes on television can have huge penetration in terms of people remembering, ya know, ‘Oh, I saw ya on..’ such-and-such-a-thing. It’s really very powerful because the visual thing stays with you longer. I find the big difference between radio and television is that if I did the same interview on television and on radio, and if I was looking at or listening to both of them, I’d find myself looking at the television thinking, ‘I wonder if I should have worn a different shirt and tie there?’, or is that the wrong suit, or whatever, ya know. And yet, when you listen on radio, you’re saying things like, ‘Yeah, that’s an interesting point I made there.’ So you’re concentrating more on the content on radio, whereas it’s the aesthetic, visual nature of things on television. But then on stage, what I love about ‘live’ performing is that there’s no-where to hide. And most of my work has always been ‘live’ on telly and radio anyway. But when you’re in recording mode in either, you’ll actually tend to have more situations where something will go wrong. Lighting will say hang on ’til I move this lamp a bit, or the sound guy will say there’s a bit of distortion somewhere. But when you’re ‘live’ in theatre, that’s it! You can’t turn around and say, ‘I’m terribly sorry, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to go back and start that again!’ [laughs]. I think you have to have a skill-set which incorporates a lot of knowledge. I mean, I’ve done so much work on this show I have every word of it in my head. And it’s scripted. Somebody came up to me the other night and said, ‘And what kind of a show will you do tomorrow night?’, and I was like, ‘What do you mean, what sort of a show?’ And they said, ‘Well how different will it be to this one?’ And I said, ‘No, this IS the show, this is a carefully scripted, worked-out, musically rehearsed show’ [laughs]. A skill you need is to be able to deliver a performance. I started my life as a musician remember, and I remember years ago I went and I sat in the orchestra pit in the Gaiety Theatre, watching the band members playing the Christmas show there. And I asked the clarinet player, ‘What’s the secret to keeping everything fresh, do you play it like it’s the last time you ever will?’ And he replied, ‘No, play it like it’s the FIRST time you’ve ever played it.’ And I thought that was an interesting differentiation to make. That the excitement of playing something for the first time was what you should look at, rather than thinking, well, if this is the last time I ever play it I’d better try and make it sound o.k., or whatever. So I’ve tried to keep by that. And you have to remember as well, that in the main – even though a lot of people are coming to see this show more than once – it’s an audience’s first time to see it most of the time. Everybody who buys a ticket, takes a seat, and comes to your show, they deserve the BEST and highest possible standard you can give them.”

I grew up watching Aonghus on television, from the Saturday morning children’s television show ‘Anything Goes’, to the family-fun of ‘The Lyrics Board.’ But from all of his time on television, on those shows and others, are there a couple of moments which he recalls with particular fondness and affection?

“I think, from a ‘My-God-Did-I-Really-Do-That?- point, it would be when ‘live’ on ‘Anything Goes, I walked out of the studio, put on a parachute, got into a helicopter, went up eight-thousand feet, jumped out, was in free-fall for about thirty seconds, opened the parachute, landed on the grass in front of the tv station, took off the parachute, walked back into the studio, sat down and said, ‘And now, let’s have a cartoon!’ [laughs]. That had never, ever been done before, nor has it since. Myself and the great B.B. King played blues guitar together on another show I did, called ‘Evening Extra’, just the two of us playing ‘live’ together, his guitar and my guitar, that was incredible, too. Those are two very special memories. I just love meeting people, I’m a people person. So anything that puts me in front of the public, I love it. And I get annoyed when I see some of my colleagues who don’t like interacting with the public. I think that’s akin to a bus driver not liking the traffic! It’s part and parcel of the job. But also, the day that nobody wants to come up and shake your hand, or share a memory, it means that your career is over, that you’re not having any impact anymore on anybody whatsoever.”

Aonghus and Denice backstage before a show.

Going back to Christie and the show, what songs does Aonghus most enjoy performing each night? Are there some which have a special significance for him, or maybe some which every audience, on every night, seems to connect with moreso than others?

“At the very end of the show, ‘Roll Back The Clouds’, the one about the reality of life in showbusiness, that is just a pivotal moment in light of everything that’s come before it. I very carefully crafted the show so that it leads and builds to this crescendo. And at the end of ‘Roll Back The Clouds’, that’s it, there is no more to give, it’s game over. It’s just a fantastic ending to the show. There’s another beautiful song called ‘I Will’, which I sing early on, it’s a love song which illustrates the tender side of what Christie could do. Denice Doyle sings ‘All The Lies That You Told Me’, a song Frances Black made famous for Christie, I love playing that with Denice singing. And Denice and myself do a beautiful version of ‘If You Were To Fall’, which Hermione and Christie used to sing, I love doing that. There’s also a lovely song that follows a big long speech when he realises that he’s dying from cancer, called ‘Believe In Me’, and it’s about believing in yourself, just get up there and don’t be wasting time. What I do like about the show is that, as I explain in the very carefully worded text I’ve written, it puts each song into context. And I see people sitting, listening to every word of the song because they now know what to look out for. If a song just washes over you, and it’s kinda ambient listening, well that’s one thing. But if somebody says to you, ‘Have a listen to this….’, like with the haunting loneliness of a song called ‘Lonely Boy’, and people start listening to words then. They get the whole message and it makes perfect sense that way.”

Frances Black, who recorded ‘All The Lies That You Told Me’ which spent 16 weeks in the Irish Charts.

Aonghus, of course, is also the producer on ‘Liveline’, the second most-listened to radio show in the Ireland, and in that role he has a unique and consistent insight into what really matters to the ‘regular’ people of Ireland. With that in mind, has he found that, over time, that access tends to reflect, or perhaps even predict, the course of the nation in relation to many issues?

“Certainly the whole ‘talk to Joe’ [Duffy, the ‘Liveline’ presenter] thing is a finger on-the-pulse, as they say. And I feel it’s become the go-to show and person to get a sense of what Ireland is talking about. I go in at about quarter past seven every morning, about an hour and a bit before the team come in, to try and get a sense of what we’re at. And the bottom line is that we both create the news a lot of the time, when people get in touch with us and we recognise a good story, but we also want it to be about whatever Ireland is talking about today, ya know? What are the issues? Sean O’ Rourke, and the News At One, and Morning Ireland, those shows will be doing the very heavy investigative, strictly news reporting. But what we’re doing is capturing the peoples’ sense of those problems. We get the personal stories from the Irish public on things like what they feel about the banks, for example. And what I find is that we get the stories behind the stories. And Joe’s knowledge for life and appetite for people is fantastic. His ability to speak with people is second to none. I’ve heard Joe get things out of people, simply by listening to them, but also by his skill in talking to them. People feel free to open up to Joe in a way that I don’t hear with others. He’s just a very, very skilled broadcaster. It’s no surprise to me that after Morning Ireland, which is always going to be the most listened-to show, that ‘Liveline’ with Joe is next. It’s a sign of just how fantastic he is, and of course, we have a great team around the programme as well. Everybody works extremely hard to keep it fresh. But it can also be a scary place, in a sense, because every day you’re starting from nothing. Because it’s not pre-set, ya know. Now sometimes, you will have a topic that will run on for a couple of days, but in general, it’s a blank page every day and a case of, right, what are we going to do today?’, ya know.”

* Aonghus brings The Platinum Collection Tour in memory of Christie Hennessy to the Tullamore Court Hotel on Thursday, December 7th. Tickets are available from hotel reception, and from TRAX, the Bridge Centre, Tullamore.

The Platinum Collection tour poster

CHRISTIE HENNESSY REMEMBERED IN BEAUTIFUL TRIBUTE SHOW FROM OLD FRIEND AONGHUS MCANALLY was originally published on HEM COUNTRY