In their most recent album, Mannequin Pussy approaches love like abused dogs: defensive and touch-starved, carnal and delicate. “I Got Heaven” presents an overwhelming desire to be known, placed in conjunction with hard-fought independence; they cannot seem to choose between accepting an embrace or clawing out of it, kicking and screaming as they grasp for control.
The title track opens with Marisa, the band’s lead singer, screaming, “I went and walked myself like a dog without a leash / Now I’m growling at a stranger. … And if I wanted it, you really think I’d wait for the permission?” She immediately takes freedom by the reins and shows that she is capable of wielding it in violent ways — simply for the purpose of showcasing that it’s hers. This exploitation of freedom, however, must be in response to something. If independence is something you’ve had all your life, why would you need to use it in such violent ways? The force of control quickly reveals itself to be religion when Marisa shouts, “And what if Jesus himself ate my [f——–] snatch?” This spiteful blasphemy occurs just before the light airy chorus declares, “I got heaven inside of me. … I am an angel … sent here to keep you company.” This song, in many ways, is the thesis of this project. The statement the band appears to make is: violence, crassness, and abrasiveness are products of cruel hands and circumstances, but goodness on a divine level exists and is accessible through soft enough love.
“Nothing Like” is proof that soft love is capable of puncturing a spiky exterior. The track opens with infatuation as Marisa sings of trying to fight and suppress her feelings. Delicately, she sings, “I fear I can’t hide / That sometimes I want you,” as drums and guitar kick in over the repeated utterance of “you.” She tries to self-sabotage and leave her armor up, but her guard eventually comes down. However, it comes down with a heavy, concerning intensity. All of a sudden, she makes claims about how her life had never meant anything until she was close enough to share a breath with the person she was once trying to avoid.
The outro is a desperate cry about how she would give her life for anything this person wants. Because the armor had been up for so long, the person inside her — the one that is capable of love — has atrophied and regressed into a state of childlike helplessness. If you are too fiercely independent, you might only know how to open up in desperate, intense ways. This is not to fault Marisa or those in similar positions. Choosing to accept love after feeling scorned and burdened for so long is an intoxicating feeling. It can make you feel ready to burn down the world. It’ll turn you into a dog desperate for praise. It’s easy to look down on this intensity of emotion, but who isn’t sympathetic to this desperation? Haven’t you ever prayed to forces you don’t believe in because you wanted someone or something so desperately? Maybe the members of Mannequin Pussy are simply more willing to admit it.
The album, however, culminates in a return to emotional form: staunch independence. On the concluding track, “Split Me Open,” we find Marisa still yearning viciously. She sings softly, “I’m worried I want you / With the power / Of a thousand suns …” before she goes on to chant, “Oh, it’s not the time / Oh, it’s not the place / I’m asking for time.” There is an admittance of want, and yet, despite these feelings, she is going to turn away from them because she is not ready for it — what feels like the mature and correct decision. Love has previously turned her into an animal in the same way as control and anger. I wanted to root for her, to celebrate the fact that there is a commitment to the self over anything else. Then, toward the end of the song, she repetitively shouts, “Nothing’s gonna change.” It feels as though she is slipping back into her old state of violence and disappointment with even more permanence — like she is forfeiting. “I Got Heaven” ends with this resounding note of reflection. Is it possible to love after living behind impenetrable armor for so long and enduring repeated cycles of pain? According to Mannequin Pussy, the result is inconclusive.
