It’s not always advisable for anyone with a blanco skin tone to attempt to dabble in reggae (Sublime and 311 come to mind). And yet, somehow British people seem to be able to carry it off without (too much) effrontery. Or at least, Lily Allen did when she released her reggae and ska-infused debut, Alright, Still (some of which is still present on No Shame). Luckily for Bhad Bhabie a.k.a. Danielle Bregoli a.k.a. the “cash me outside” girl, she has two British birds, Grace Chatto and Charli XCX, to help her rap along through the lyrics, painting the portrait of a girl who didn’t mean to fall for a guy who turned out to have the “playboy style”–yes, the title of the song–that would end up leaving her high and (vaginally) dry despite not even being initially all that interested in the first place.
Seeming to prefer the varied sound that can occur with three separate parties involved (at least based on their last single, “Baby” featuring Marina and Luis Fonsi), Chatto commences the tragic tale by explaining, “Had a lover undercover, kept it on the low/Said that you meant nothing but my feelings really grew/Not that I regret you but I met you, went insane.” Speaking to that similar theme of regret that would seem to be the running motif for their forthcoming sophomore album, What Is Love?, none of the women (yes there are two men in Clean Bandit, but they don’t have a voice here) involved can seem to believe they could be so effortlessly duped by a bloke who wasn’t even worth a damn to them in the beginning.
Charli XCX memorably weighs in on the psychological (not narcissistic) injury with ardor as she sing-screams, “Fell in love with a bad, bad dude/Playboy style, should’ve seen right through/All my friends, they could see the truth/You never loved me, you never loved me, yeah yeah.”
In certain respects reminding one of Quavo’s “CHAMPAGNE ROSÉ” featuring Madonna and Cardi B, there is a playfulness to the song that surprisingly does not negate the sense of pain Chatto feels not only over losing the man she fell in love with to another, but the sting to her ego that it has caused, recounting her added embarrassment, “Didn’t need forever but I needed just a call/Every night at three a.m. I’m banging on your door.”
To that end, Charli XCX layers on the agony with the lyrical depiction, “Yeah, you said no one was home/Too bad he’s making shapes with the lights on I hope she’s what you want, uh/Can’t believe I let a playboy play me so damn good.” But oh, it happens to all of us, even to Bhad Bhabie–herself capable of conveying betrayal while rapping, “When you making checks on checks they chase you for that dollar bill/But where the fuck was you when all I had to eat was dollar meals?” Conning some other poor soul susceptible to fake sycophancy masquerading as even less genuine flirtation no doubt. “It’s so rare for a girl like me [/us all]” to fall for bullshit, but when the charm is effective enough, no one is safe from lowering her carefully built up emotional defenses, least of all from activities like fucking on a marble floor (a specific reference in the song, as though people still have sex anymore. But then, maybe only rich people, i.e. the people that would have a marble floor, still feel the inclination).
In addition to the Lily Allenesque reggae-tinge that permeates the song, the taunting saxophone as the song reaches a denouement would make both Madness and The Specials proud (if they had to ever admit to being proud of pop music in any way). And on the even more refreshing side, maybe the term playboy will come back to briefly usurp fuckboy again–not that men deserve the reversion to this more “elegant”-sounding word.
