In the months since Charli XCX unleashed Brat onto the world in June of 2024, it seems as though the masses have grown even fonder of adhering to the adage Britney Spears once coined: “Keep on dancin’ till the world ends.” This certainly held true as the repetitious Brat lyrics, “3-6-5, party girl (bumpin’ that)/3-6-5, party girl (bumpin’ that)/3-6-5, party girl, party girl/Party girl, party girl, party girl, party girl (I wanna go real wild when I’m bumpin’ that)” played amid the backdrop of Palestinian genocide and Trump continuing to take the lead in the election regardless of whether it was Joe or Kamala.
Now, in the final week of January, FKA Twigs (who, as a Capricorn, seems generally into releasing music during this time [hear also: Caprisongs]) is here to attempt continuing the end-of-the-world dance party as 2025 shows the population just what it’s made of this early on, with raging L.A. wildfires, ramped-up transphobia and Trump and his arsenal of goons making America (and the rest of the planet) anything but great again. Thus, some might be wondering where FKA Twigs was able to “dig up” such jubilance from within on her third album, Eusexua. The answer lies in the fact that the germinal idea for it arose in 2022, during the filming of The Crow in Prague. Which, yes, means that the making of said movie, despite its scathing reviews, was all worth it for the sake of Eusexua’s “birth.” Begat in the clubs and outskirts-of-the-city warehouse raves where Twigs spent her off hours, it’s only right that the first track of the album should be its namesake, a thesis statement, of sorts, on how one can experience a certain kind of euphoria only in this particular setting. A euphoria (whether MDMA-induced or not) that, per Twigs, becomes so intense that one “transcends” their corporeal form.
By the same token, “eusexua” is all about being present in order to delight in “the pinnacle of human experience.” Indeed, that seems to be the takeaway Twigs wants to impart the most throughout her various interviews about the record. And while some have tried to say that “eusexua” is merely a portmanteau of “euphoria” and “sexual,” Twigs insisted to Jake Shane on Therapuss, “It’s a word that I made up that I think sounds like the feeling of, like, human presence and human awareness and loss of ego and, you know, like humans are so beautiful, but I think we forget that.” Needless to say, forgetting that is fairly easy to do when you look around and see the state of the world. Even when people want to point out that the tragedy wrought by the Palisades and Eaton fires has brought out “the best” in humanity in terms of others wanting to help each other, they choose to ignore the flipside of what calamity brings out: those who want to capitalize on others’ misfortune (e.g., looters posing as firefighters to steal any valuables from the rubble). Which is why, perhaps more than anything, Eusexua, in truth, is about not being present. About choosing to willfully ignore all the horrors around you in favor of retreating fully into the chaos of the dance floor, rather than the chaos of the world. For, as Madonna once said, “I know a place where you can get away/It’s called a dance floor.”
“Eusexua” establishes that vibe immediately with its dulcet tones both vocal and musical. And it is during the album’s lead single that FKA Twigs cuts to the core of why she needed to invent her own word for this phenomenon: “Words cannot describe/This feeling deep inside.” A feeling she says not to call “love,” but “eusexua.” Elsewhere in the song, she asks, “Do you feel alone?/You’re not alone.” Apart from echoing Olive’s late 90s hit, “You’re Not Alone,” this is an assurance that also speaks to something Twigs confessed during a Spotify interview with Imogen Heap, telling her, “I always say I was born very heartbroken. I’ve always been heartbroken from my earliest memory. My earliest memories I always just remember thinking like, ‘How lonely, how strange to be here.’” In every sense, Eusexua is Twigs’ attempt at trying to make those who feel the same feel slightly less that way.
As for the accompanying video for “Eusexua,” its office setting is the perfect choice to highlight the idea that wanting to experience being present is most pronounced in milieus such as these, where a “hive mind” is instead the norm. This, too, is why Twigs coined another term called “croning,” which means “an addiction to technology,” and an inability to know if what you’re thinking is truly a product of your own thoughts, or a product of what your algorithm is “feeding” you. As for her reason for branding it “croning,” she explained on Therapuss that it’s an homage to the work of David Cronenberg, whose films often explore the unsettling relationship (and increasing interdependency) between humans and technology, with the line between the two becoming increasingly blurred/nonexistent. So it is that Twigs provides an “Easter egg” nod to that term by naming the company she works at in the video “Crone Corp.” Fortunately, her office self is able to escape, to transcend and experience a much-needed state of eusexua.
A state that primes listeners for track two on the record, “Girl Feels Good.” With its moody, almost Nine Inch Nails-meets-didgeridoo-reminiscent musical intro, Twigs continues to establish the industrial sound of the techno that reeled her into an alternate dimension while she was in Prague. Among the most standout tracks of Eusexua, its message addresses something that’s more important than ever to remind people of in a Trump-run America: “When a girl feels good, it makes the world go ‘round.” Under the Orange One, however, there are few girls who can feel good at all. Not least of which is due to her body being legislated under such a man’s draconian rule. However, in bleak times like these, it’s all the more reason to “turn your love up loud to keep the devil down.” This being the sort of kabbalist-inspired philosophy that Madonna has touted in her music (and beyond) since the Ray of Light years.
And, yes, the flickers of Madonna continue to flash on “Perfect Stranger.” Not just because it bears certain noticeable thematic similarities to “Beautiful Stranger,” but because one of Madonna’s go-to producers, Stuart Price, is credited as a co-producer along with Koreless (who co-produced every track), Stargate, Ojivolta and FKA Twigs herself. More upbeat and jubilant than the two songs that precede it, Twigs extols the virtues of any stranger (“you’re a stranger, so you’re perfect”) because, well, one doesn’t know them well enough yet to be disappointed by them. Instead, they represent possibility—mixed in with a dash of a little danger, therefore excitement. As Twigs says, “What we don’t know will never hurt us.” Though try telling that to the gay men who slept with strangers and ended up contracting AIDS from them.
In any case, it’s apparent that “Perfect Stranger” is also an ode to Twigs’ time spent writhing freely on the dance floors of various warehouse raves. Though, one can’t help but side note here that Charli XCX has been going to warehouse raves since she was around fourteen years old, whereas Twigs only just started. Which is perhaps why her version of that “varietal” of music feels, let’s say, slightly more precious. More curated. Even on “Drums of Death” (produced entirely by Koreless), which is patently meant to come across as Visceral with a capital “V.” As for the memorable, deliberately disorienting intro, listeners were already acquainted with it in the video for “Eusexua” (though, eventually, “Drums of Death” would get a video of its own, even if still in the same Crone Corp. office setting). Its vast, time-expanding opening then leads into Twigs’ continuing “glitched-out” vocals that urge, “Fuck who you want/Baby girl, do it just for fun” and “Crash the system/Diva doll/Serve cunt/Serve violence.” All while simultaneously “healing.” That word said in quotes because Twigs doesn’t believe that the look or feel of healing needs to be “pretty” (e.g., punctuated by yoga pants or scented candles or herbal tea). It can look ugly and messy—indeed, that’s the best way to know the process is real.
On the next song, “Room of Fools,” as though to emphasize Britney Spears’ enduring influence on dance music, the moody, irritated instrumentation recalls one of Spears’ songs from Femme Fatale: “Trouble For Me.” Which, like most of the songs on Femme Fatale, also addresses dance floor chemistry (and its danger). “Room of Fools” does the same with less focus on the sexual element and more on the idea that, in order to go to a rave or club, one must shed all inhibitions—lose enough control to forget about how they’re being perceived.
Here, too, Twigs makes a commentary on the nature of our world today. One in which everyone is so consumed with how they’re being “seen” that they forget 1) how to actually be and 2) that no one is ever really looking at anyone but themselves anyway. Within the context of a darkened underground rave, caring about what people think, so FKA Twigs says, becomes less of a concern and more of a distant memory. Inspired by the scenes of what she saw in this underground realm, Twigs describes, “This room of fools/We make something together/We’re open wounds/Just bleeding out the pressure.” In other words, sure, a person might look “weird” dancing all “cuckoo” on their own in a room, but when placed against the backdrop of so many other people doing the same thing, it creates a sense of symmetrical order despite the insanity and the chaos of each person’s movements. So it is that Twigs adds, “Stray dogs/On the dance floor/Demigods/In unconscious form” and “It feels nice/Be whoever I please.” That latter sentiment reinforcing the idea that dancing in a room full of strangers is the pinnacle of pure freedom and loss of inhibition (something Madonna also sang about on 1982’s “Everybody”).
With the following track, “Sticky,” Twigs returns to the vocal intonations that were more present on Magdalene, the sound of her voice mimicking the style of “Sad Day” (specifically, the lyrics, “Ah, would you make a, make a, make a wish on my love?”). And perhaps this sort of “somber tone” is only appropriate considering the subject matter, which acknowledges the difficulty of being uninhibited in the world of now, when every move and every word is documented and scrutinized—just waiting to be held against you later. Thus, Twigs confesses, “It hurts so bad/To shed my skin with you watching/You know, you know, you know it makes me shy.” In the darkness of the dance floor, however, that shyness can more easily disappear. And this, too, is part of why encountering this “subculture” so shortly after the lockdowns of the pandemic was such a godsend to Twigs, who declared on Therapuss that she needed to find something real, something tangible that she could hold onto—not another fucking makeup tutorial video (as a case in point of the meaningless bullshit that the internet/social media “offers”). Her obsession with tangibility and presence became the core of Eusexua, allowing her to realize, “I’m tired of messing up my life with/Overcomplicated moments.” Wanting instead to just live for and feed off whatever the vibe of any given moment is. Not what one wants it to appear to be. The song then closes with the glitched-out repetition of the phrase “sticky situations.”
Initially, “Keep It, Hold It,” the song that follows, maintains the same “slowed down” sonic aura as “Sticky.” But then, at the halfway point, the tempo changes entirely—a musical shift that can best be compared to what happens on Billie Eilish’s “Happier Than Ever.” It’s at this point that Twigs gives advice contrary to what she said before, telling listeners, “Don’t keep it, don’t hold it.” In this context, referring to letting go of any reserve or reluctance (whether at a club or anywhere else). Even though this is an undeniably difficult task, illuminated by the opening line, “At best I live alone in disarray/I read a million people gotta feel this way.” Millions of people who are alone, together. A phrase that also applies to the scene one might find on any given dance floor. Switching back to her original advice (and tone) as the song comes to an end, Twigs instructs, “Just keep on walking, just keep it and hold it.” The “it,” of course, could mean whatever one wants it to—their “light,” their soul, their inner child.
And talking of one’s inner child, “Childlike Things” is a song that FKA Twigs says she’s been “conceiving” since she was thirteen. Though she probably never imagined at thirteen that she would get a demon spawn like North West as a feature on the track singing in Japanese. For, of all the “childlike” people to include, it seems that few saw “Northie” coming to add in a nonsensical and unnecessary verse that translates to, “Hello/My name is North-chan/From California to Tokyo/Jesus, the King (ah-ah)/Praise the Lord (ah-ah)/Jesus is the one and only true God (you need to know).” Clearly, her father’s influence has been stronger than her mother’s. As for the repetitive, high-pitched and, yes, childlike “dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, dun” peppered throughout, it only builds on the notion that Twigs means what she says when she sings, “Lost in a world of childlike things and fantasies” and “Where the wild things are, I will be.” All delivered in a pitch that echoes what many would bill as an “obscure” track from the 90s called “Clap Clap” by Gam Gam.
A similar frenetic energy takes hold on “Striptease,” a title that feels only too appropriate for the woman who starred in “cellophane.” Serving as the fourth single from the album, this is a more “experimental” track in terms of garnering “hit status,” but for those willing to go on the journey with Twigs, this song allows the listener to see her, in essence, turn herself inside out to be fully known. This much is made apparent when she coos, “I’ve got a birthmark on my mind, I think you’ll like it” and “Opening me feels like a striptease.” It’s also yet another track on the album that provides the kind of varied, sweeping sonic landscape that almost makes the listener forget that it’s still the same song. This also goes for one of Imogen Heap’s favorite numbers on Eusexua, “24hr Dog.” So fond of it, in fact, that, during their interview, she has quite a lengthy reflection about sound as it relates to “24hr Dog,” after which Twigs explains, “That first synth line…it’s just one of those sounds, it’s so metallic and it goes completely through you… I get so viscerally affected by those metallic sounds as well.”
As for the lyrics, which explore the beauty of submitting—whether that be to “the rhythm,” someone else’s artistic vision, etc.—Twigs sings, “I’m a slave to your design/So work me to satisfy the core of your mind” and “When I submit to you this way/I’m a dog for you/It’s true/I’m just this way for you/I bend more/Than what I thought was possible/Me, in shapes that make you pleased.” While some might interpret such lines as being near “Cater 2 U” by Destiny’s Child-level, Twigs explains it best to Heap when she remarks, “There is something so incredible about being completely submissive to somebody and having that trust and that submission of your ego, whether that is in a romantic partnership or even creatively.” Romy Mathis in Babygirl would tend to agree.
With her final song on Eusexua, “Wanderlust,” Twigs slows everything way down. In fact, of all the songs on the record, this is the one that feels perhaps most out of place, most “on its own.” At least in terms of sound. It bears no “techno” or otherwise danceable characteristics, with Twigs in a purely reflective mood. And it is during the bridge that she assures, “It’s alright/To be the light/To cross the sea/To wanna ride with higher tides/You’ve one life to live, do it freely/It’s your choice to break or believe in it/I’ll be in my head if you need me/Right there if you need me.” And lately, not only is Twigs in her head if you need her, but also inside the various “Eusexua raves” she’s been throwing. Not just to promote the album, but to remind people of what it means to be present in a space.
Going back to the comparison of a Brat summer versus a Eusexua winter, the Eusexua raves aren’t unlike Charli XCX’s various Boiler Room gigs in promotion of her own album. And, in the spirit of what Charli did during those DJ sets, Twigs mentions that she’s really just participating in them not as a performer, but as something of an “overseer.” A “fairy godmother,” of sorts, making sure that everyone still remembers how to have a good time without their phones. Though, of course, if one takes a glance inside either the Boiler Room venues or the Eusexua raves, what they’ll immediately see is everyone filming with their goddamn phones. So yes, “eusexua is a practice”—but one that few of Twigs’ fans are genuinely capable of fully engaging with. “Being brat,” on the other hand, comes much more effortlessly for most.
At the outset of her interview with Heap, Twigs declares, “Music scores our lives and, if you’re incredibly lucky as an artist, you get an album that scores culture.” But, again, that was much more undeniably applicable to Charli XCX with Brat. It seems less likely that the same level of “saturation” will happen with Eusexua in terms of seeping into every facet of “the culture.” This being perhaps most manifest by the fact that no one is bandying the term “Eusexua winter.” And definitely not in the United States, where not only have things become as sexless as ever, but also as joyless. A political period when, in effect, no one is too interested in “being present.” Only in escaping the present.
What’s more, while XCX created an album rooted in the way humans communicate and interact now—that is to say, in constant contact with technology and the internet—Twigs has made an album that urges people to be “present” and disconnect from their devices at a time when most humans with even half a brain left really don’t want to. To be sure, retreating into “non-reality” may very well become even more of a coping mechanism than trying to opt for paying attention to what’s “real.”
Even so, it’s nice to see that someone is still trying to make humanity “take pause” and consider the direction that it’s headed. To ask oneself, in no uncertain terms, if a large part of their unhappiness isn’t a direct result of always being half in and half out of life. Never fully there, but rather, inside a screen. Which is why, if you need Twigs, it’s like she said: she’ll be inside her mind. The “safe space” that has clearly served her so well for all these years (both artistically and therapeutically). Especially the ones before the internet, when a “retreat” required everyone to rely on their imagination and creativity more readily than they’re willing to now.
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