Like Ed Sheeran’s “Bad Habits,” FKA Twigs’ latest single–on the heels of her Bond-esque theme, “Measure of a Man”–seems to want to remind us of a simpler time, when going to the club was a release rather than an added source of fanning one’s fears, anxieties and phobias. And yet, in the great global spirit of pretending everything is “business as usual,” Twigs seems to think that even post-pandemic, there’s plenty of opportunity to “listen to the rhythm and make no compromise.” We all know the Brits certainly haven’t made one (just ask the French about all this Jersey fishing drama). And being that Twigs hails from England, maybe that’s part of where her blasé sensibilities on COVID have come from. So yeah, why wouldn’t she be shedding fluids at the club regardless of what variant is on the loose? And maybe you would be, too, if you endured what she did with Robert Pattinson and Shia LeBeouf.
As for her collaborator on the single, Canada’s own The Weeknd, he’s all too happy to help perpetuate FKA’s ruse about clubland still being a great place for release (emotional, rather than just virus), even though his portion of the video is much more, shall we say, intimate. Directed by Amber Grace Johnson, whose only other credentials include two videos for Jorja Smith, the mood of the narrative is, to be fair, appropriate for a post-pandemic club jaunt. Opening on Twigs lying prostrate against an all-black backdrop as rain cascades down on her, we immediately wonder why Lady Gaga didn’t think to do something as dramatic for “Rain on Me” (probably because Robert Rodriguez is a hack). Johnson then cuts to a close-up of her teary-eyed face in another darkened abyss, but this time she’s with two others writhing around right next to her face. Another cut to Twigs running dramatically down an empty road while we hear the lyrics of the chorus, “Tears in the club/‘Cause your love’s got me fucked up.”
So fucked up, apparently, that she needed to visit some kind of doctor’s office/torture room in the middle of the night to remedy her situation. Why else would she be gyrating on top of an examination table in clubwear? Unless it’s to get some exclusive COVID test only available for rich people (which, to be honest, would not surprise). And maybe The Weeknd is the person responsible for administering that test because, in another non sequitur moment, he’s watching Twigs in a fish tank as she works a pole (because, clearly, whether on land or in water, she never wants us to forget those stripper skills she worked so hard to learn for “cellophane”–only for Lil Nas X to take all the credit away from her).
Watching her in that way of the creepy After Hours persona he’s become known for, the glycerin-generated tears stream down his face as he watches her and urges, “So many tears ’cause you try to fight the love, babe/You move your body to the synths and the drums, babe/You move your body ’til the rise of the sun/Just go with the motions, baby/Girl, you should go with the motions.” This sounds a bit on the rapey side, but then, when doesn’t it with The Weeknd? He continues, “Oh, unload your emotions, baby/You’ve been suppressin’ emotions.” Um, who hasn’t? It’s the most pronounced “coping” mechanism of all in these patently “in denial” times.
With close-up interior shots of our strippery mermaid, of sorts, inside the tank, Twigs better be wary of Lana Del Rey trying to call her out for “stealing” from the “Music To Watch Boys To” “aesthetic,” considering she’s also the one who came up with, “…when I get on the pole people call me a whore, but when Twigs gets on the pole it’s art.” And yeah, it still is in “Tears in the Club.” After this, we have the requisite “TikTok portion” of the video, where FKA gives us a dance breakdown worthy of her former backup days (as she also relished calling out in the video for “Measure of a Man”).
Around the two-minute, fifty-two second mark, things take a decidedly Pamela Anderson in the video for Lit’s “Miserable” turn when an enlarged FKA chases after a miniature The Weeknd and then holds him in her hand like the one in total control (as she should be). Alas, her emotions still seem to remain utterly out of control as we’re presented with a barrage of additional scenes featuring FKA parading her tears in the club and, once more, running down an empty road like there’s a demonic force chasing her (and sometimes, love is just that: a demonic force).
It all leads us right back to where we started with Twigs lying on the ground and the rain pouring down on her. Because, ultimately, it’s probably more cathartic and less of a health hazard to have an emotional breakdown on a deserted street than it is inside the club. But bless Twigs for being one of many to remind us that COVID isn’t just a pandemic, it’s endemic. And as such, we should apparently all go back to relishing our little personal dramas without the guilt or pressure of trying to think about “the bigger picture.” Particularly when heartbreak will forever remain the most toxic thing to a human’s health.
