From 2012 to 2015, MØ was seemingly omnipresent on top forty radio (unbeknownst to most who could not detect her signature voice in the likes of singles such as Iggy Azalea’s “Beg For It,” Major Lazer’s “All My Love” and, of course, DJ Snake’s “Lean On”). With the type of meteoric rise that leaves record executives champing at the bit for an artist to release something new, or at least reissue a debut, MØ consistently held up against the pressure to put a sophomore effort out, waiting four years to bring us Forever Neverland.
As the album’s title suggests, the theme pertains to a desire to live in the comfortable bubble of denial (and more freedom than one realizes) that tends to be best maintained in youth. That MØ has released the record upon entering her thirtieth year is also telling of this insatiable need to remain behind in the pleasant numbness of one’s twenties, a time of embracing the haze that comes naturally with an ability to exist in a perpetual state of hungoverness. And then, of course, there is that extra layer of the necessity to tune out of the political landscape as a means for mental health preservation. So it is that she has adopted J.M. Barrie’s tableau as her own.
Fourteen tracks to No Mythologies to Follow‘s sixteen (twenty-one on the deluxe edition), Forever Neverland sustains a running motif of combined disillusion and commitment to naïveté throughout, starting with the wistful opening, called simply “Intro,” in which MØ describes, “This is what I wanted all my life, no one can take it…/Sugar in my veins/Purple like the summer rain.” Somewhat similar to Marina and the Diamonds’ first track on The Family Jewels, “Are You Satisfied?,” the exploration of the weightiness of achieving one’s lifelong goal (in each woman’s case, to become a musician) can feel just as unpleasant as it does magical–and yet, as Woody Allen addresses in To Rome With Love, being famous and miserable is much better than just being miserable.
So it is that MØ goes “Way Down” the rabbit hole of surrendering to pleasure as distraction on the second track, reciting, “I just wanna get fucked up with my baby/Ooh, la la, ooh/Tell ’em not to worry ’bout me I’m on my way down,” as a fanciful flute (though all flutes are fanciful) complements the frenetic backbeat. Going slightly down the LDR path with the lyrics, “All of my life, been trying to find a little bit of paradise/So I’m gonna play a video game/I’ve never been a socialite (mhmm)”–not to mention using “socialite” in a way that would definitely find Kurt Loder calling her out for its misuse the same way he did to Jewel with “casualty” in her poetry book, A Night Without Armor–MØ explains her inherent aversion to dealing with what’s real through escapism. That technology has made escapism all the more facile only further speaks to her comment about the record containing an “inkling of darkness” beneath the surface of those tailor-made for the dance floor beats.
“I Want You” is yet another anthem devoted to a generation so accustomed to instant gratification that it doesn’t quite compute when they can’t have someone as effortlessly as something (or if they do have them, it’s for a too short period before the inevitable ghosting). So it is that MØ makes the oh so romantic twenty-first century declaration, “Yes, I-I-I want you and every single thing that you do/Makes me wanna put my phone down/Burn this fucking house down.” That is serious indeed, especially since all the video games are in the house. That the rhythm behind it is akin to what one would picture a girl running through a field of daisies to (which is essentially what MØ is doing on the cover of the album, minus the flower choice mentioned) is, in essence, MØ encouraging us all to be gleeful in our disavowal of unmitigated existence.
The sad, Blur-like tone of, um, “Blur” takes a turn for the “happy sinister,” thanks to the production of ST!NT, who worked on most of the tracks on Forever Neverland except “Sun In Our Eyes,” “Mercy,” “If It’s Over” and “Imaginary Friend.” “Happy sinister” is, in fact, the only combination of words that can be used to describe Los Angeles, the city that inspired the lyrics. Written at a time when MØ had at last fulfilled her fantasy of moving to California (a state mentioned with as much frequency as any Lana record on Forever Neverland), she explained the sentiment behind it as, “There was a time when I would feel creatively lost every time I was in Los Angeles. It was really frustrating…I felt like I needed to be better now that I had the privilege of being in the city of the stars. It was around that time I wrote ‘Blur.'” And for anyone who has known the bizarre agony of driving around L.A. with so-called signs of “paradise” all around you only to feel completely hollow inside, then surely the description, “Let me out, I’m trapped in a blur/Started out the way I wanted but it’s weird now/Let me out, I’m lost in the words/Too much in my head, I shoulda seen the bad signs,” will resonate. Along with, “I wanna tell you everything will be fine/But I’m afraid that it’s a waste of your time.”
To compound matters of feeling trapped in the blur, the predilection toward nostalgia that has made many a millennial buy something frivolous (like a notebook covered in a collage of Miranda Hobbes’ face) can become more addictive the more you want to escape from the present. Accordingly, on “Nostalgia” MØ waxes, “I remember the first time I was in love/It was all the way back in 1997.” Considering this ever revived love for the late 90s recently (and how millennials love to make it seem like it was so far “back in the day“), it’s only natural that MØ would go deep down memory lane with the added detail, “I stole my mama’s cell phone, yes, and I was turning it up/Tracked down your number, boy/I was so in love, I thought I was in heaven.”
Perhaps having the same epiphany Del Rey did after enough albums devoted to that unique person with the ability to hold the title of first love, MØ finally had to realize–in coming out of her nostalgia cocoon, “So beautiful, the love we had, the love we had/Can’t believe we let it pass, we let it pass/So beautiful, but you were right, yes you were right/We couldn’t last, but what a blast we had.” Hence, in letting go of the nostalgia intrinsic to living in the past–therefore that comfortable bubble that allows one to live in the Neverland of the mind–MØ enters the in-between period of knowing that the present can’t be ignored yet still wanting to keep the “sun in [her] eyes” as a convenient defense mechanism. Collaborating once more with Diplo on “Sun In Our Eyes,” MØ compares her state of wanting to return to her ultimate master–the past–to being a canine that “can see your face from miles and miles away/But heaven knows it’s gonna fade, heaven knows it’s gonna fade/I’m a dog searching for answers and a way/Back to your hands you make me tremble, make me crash/Forget my name.” Forgetting is, in truth, a natural part of getting older (sometimes leading to Alzheimer’s if you’re lucky).
What So Not and Two Feet join MØ on “Mercy” (not to be confused with Kanye West’s), another exploration of the looks in one’s eyes that pertain this time to being unable to glaze over. In this case, it’s her lover that can’t continue on in the defunct relationship, with MØ explaining, “I know I fucked up one too many times/When I was on my selfish shit I thought no matter what I did you’d stay with me/I never in a million years imagined/You would really walk away from me.” Accentuating the point of her own self-imposed blindness, MØ pleads, “I’m a sweet mess with permanent sunglasses on,” in addition to realizing too late, “Oh, baby I’m terrified of growing up/Admitting and committing/Oh, but please don’t, please don’t go.” Of course, it’s too late once the writing’s on the wall–try to deny it away as we might.
The whimsical “If It’s Over” featuring Charli XCX offers one of the most dancehall rhythms of the record, as though to match MØ’s jubilance over having made peace with coming out of her swathe of repudiation through ignoring. Seemingly the perfect companion track to the narrative set up in “Mercy,” MØ reconciles, “If it’s over then it’s over/I’m not gonna try to win you back.” An admission perfectly timed for the mid-point of Forever Neverland, it would appear as though MØ is recognizing to its full potential her statement on the detriment of remaining in Neverland, “It’s like a childish dream. Like, do you want to be stuck with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys in Neverland and never see reality? That’s not a good place to be.”
And, speaking of not a good place to be, the “West Hollywood” interlude (a natural thematic fit with “Blur”) firmly establishes MØ shedding her coma as she comes to terms with her true feelings about the city, singing, “You know I love you…and know that I should stay/If I was braver I would but right now all I wanna do is call up my mama and get the fuck out of West Hollywood.”
No longer afraid to acknowledge the truth, “Beautiful Wreck” finds MØ parading her imperfections as she announces, “I’m a beautiful wreck, baby/And I feel like I’ve been losing my mind I don’t know what you’ve done to me/Oh, I don’t want to leave/’Cause I’m falling for you recklessly.” Thus, she substitutes one false reality with another: that which love can so dangerously make one believe in until the novelty wears off.
Reiterating the dancehall tone of “If It’s Over,” Empress Of’s inclusion on “Red Wine” intermixes MØ’s brief epiphany that to evade what’s real is just as perilous as retreating into a false dimension with the idea that so long as she’s aware of what’s happening–aware that she’s in denial–it’s not as bad, asserting, “I don’t care for the truth boy/You can be who you please, I’ve had enough of reality/Longing for the sweet relief, oh oh.” And oh how many forms sweet relief comes in these days, if you’re prepared to be left craving more almost the moment you’ve gotten your so-called “fix.”
One of those fixes, to be sure, can be projecting all of your false images of a person onto your assured salvation from loneliness. “Imaginary Friend” delves into this increasingly pervasive phenomenon as a result of the social media disconnect that exists between actual person and said person’s internet facade. It is as such that MØ promises, “And I’m gonna be everything you, everything you fantasized/I’ll be your imaginary friend.” Imaginary in that no one we know is “real”–so much as an internalized construction of who we see them as.
Apologetic once more as she seems incapable of not surrendering to the tantalizations of a Neverland life, “Trying to Be Good” touches on failed love and failed promise (again, her self-deprecation for not being into the L.A. lifestyle). Mocking the foolishness of using love as a drug to numb the ongoing pain of living, MØ assures, “Lovers won’t get blamed ’cause no one’s gonna hate on someone so stupid/We got nothing to lose.” Of course, that overused chestnut is just the opposite of what MØ feels, admitting, “So sick of, sick of trying to be good/I’m never gonna fall for pressure/I could change, baby, if I wanted to.” Say all people who can’t change, or veer too far from their bad habits that have already become their character–just as Margaret Thatcher warned.
Bringing it all full circle with her talk of purple summer rain (what Prince would just call “Purple Rain”), the final track, “Purple Like the Summer Rain,” reuses the lyrics from the intro (just as Cat Power does on her latest, Wanderer) to iterate that “this is what I wanted all my life, no one can take it, no.” At the same time, it would be just as blissful to return to the innocence and unknowing of youth. As MØ speaks on the subject toward the end of the song, fully expressing her feelings on the beauty of Neverland, there is a constant yearning within us all when things become too difficult to endure “to be a child again. To not have to worry about the responsibilities of adulthood. What if I grow too cold?” Of course you will. Even in California.
