There aren’t many people I’d rather be. I've made a home in my flesh jacket, my scaffolding of bones, but sometimes I have vivid dreams of being a song villain. The bad girls and guys who are so notorious they've been immortalised in song.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
I'm not talking about the ex-boyfriends that make up a Taylor Swift album, but the sinful, multi-layered villainous muses who appear in musical genres from Euro-disco to the songs you know only from Shrek.
Señor Self-absorbed in Carly Simon -You're So Vain
I want my own jet so I can get a healthy glimpse of the sun on any calendar day of my choosing. I want to walk into a party wearing an outfit embellished with "apricot" tones, parading about in a state of pure peacockery. I want people to fall overboard at the mere whiff of my fancyman cologne.
To this very day, the soothing 1971 revenge track still leaves me wanting more. Do I want a song written about me that will be the source of mystery for decades to come? Yes. Do I want my colossal vanity to be a woman's pathway to musical stardom? You bet!
The scissor-legged lass in Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - John Finn's Wife
I don't go a day without dreaming of having "legs like scissors" so I could "carve [my] way through the dancefloor" as per this Australian rock band's track.
Can you imagine the kind of discotheque real estate you’d be able to occupy on a filthy Saturday evening? No hopeful men to swerve away from, no newly-minted 18-year-olds of whom to avoid the flailing limbs.
The ballerina in Avril Lavigne -Sk8er Boi
So Avril Lavigne's nemesis missed out on forever schtupping a guy in a band? Big woop. At least she gets to chill by the TV with a little baby and, after a period of time, perhaps return to her ballet.
She also has the delicious privilege of knowing that the girl hate-singing about her in a schoolboy tie, moaning about how she and the sk8r "rock each other's world", is only going to leave him to eventually marry the NICKELBACK guy.
Russia's greatest love machine in Boney M - Rasputin
Only in some lighting are my eyes a "flaming gold" like Rasputin's (when my pupils show the glassy reflection of a mad fire I lit), but being "Russia’s greatest love machine" is still a doable dream. Having one’s penis suspended in brine as if it were halloumi never loses its allure.
The jetsetting dame in Drake - Hotline Bling
This summer R&B; jam reminds me of being 22 when I gallivanted around Asia (“running outta pages in your passport"), met new mates (“hanging with some girls I never seen before”) and learned to sip on drinks other than Wild Turkey from the bottle (“champagne out on the dancefloor”).
I not only aspire to be the blossoming heartbreaker he sings of in the 2016 hit, but for a period of time I believed her life was mine, and mine hers. I will not be talked out of this, despite how generic the allusions are in the song and how they could describe most women in their twenties.
The beauteous threat in Dolly Parton's - Jolene
I’m pretty Asian so will never have "eyes of emerald green" or "flaming locks of auburn hair" like Jolene, but that doesn't quench my thirst for Miley Cyrus to cover an original country piece about me.
Miss Succubus in Black Sabbath - Evil Woman
When my muscles aren’t the consistency of a jar of Praise mayonnaise, I’d love for them to "move just like the crack of a whip" as per the hard rock track.
The line "you want me to claim that child you bore” conjures vivid imagery of me giving birth, laughing and telling a random guy “claim my offspring!” and that guy is Satan himself and he just isn’t ready to be an active parent right now.
The hapless hero in Smashmouth - All Star
Sunglasses McBigboi of Smashmouth isn't the obvious villain in his self-deprecating anthem, but he sort of sets himself up as one with deluded battle-cries like: “Hey now! You're an all star!" on repeat. Truly the incantations of a madman. A madman I could call home.
The funky lady in Prince - Darling Nikki
When Prince encounters the character of Nikki, she’s naughtying up a hotel lobby. They then get kinky and she bails - on Prince! - with a note simply reading: “Thank you for a funky time.” Now that's a plucky woman to surrender your soul to.
