As Kesha continues to roll out the singles leading up to the release of High Road in January, she wants us to know that while she might have returned to her “party” persona, she’s doing it on her own terms this time. A.k.a. she won’t be propped up like some stuffed with drugs marionette designed to do any jig Dr. Luke and/or her critics want. Thus, it’s fitting for her to open the song with, “Woke up this morning, feeling myself/Hungover as hell like 2012, fuck it.” Referencing that period when the Dr. Luke-dominated Warrior had just come out and she was still tangoing with the kind of music that had made her a success on Animal and then the follow-up EP, Cannibal, tracks like “Die Young” and “Crazy Kids” still smacked of the brand Dr. Luke wanted for her. That is to say, being a clone among all the others in his little stable of pop stars (something Kesha speaks to symbolically at one point in the video).
And while she still might have no choice but to release her music on his imprint, Kemosabe Records (though Sony forced him to step down as acting CEO), she’s not going to play into his style of sleaze any longer. Nor is she going to pander to critics and “fans” urging her to get back to her old ways, parroted by Kesha in the line, “‘We get it that you’ve been through a lot of shit/But life’s a bitch, so come on, shake your tits and fuck it.’” But, no, Kesha declares, “Hey, I don’t do that dance/Don’t circumcise my circumstance/I only do my own dance.” For the past few years, Kesha has most certainly shown that to be true. Battling to be heard and to get her music out in the face of Dr. Luke’s icy assertions that she’s nothing more than a liar and a defamer of character (blazing the trail for so many women in the music industry to speak out, including Taylor Swift, now facing her own song right imbroglio). But just like the woman she is in the video, she will still go out to the store in her pajamas to triumph over and defy public perception.
Allie Avital directs her through an apartment complex that is both eerie and trashy, but Kesha doesn’t seem to mind either, even getting some version of The Shining twins (she passes a Room 207 at one point but not a Room 237) to start dancing as she persists in roving the area in search of the magic cereal that everyone else seems to have (because yes, Kesha is all about magic and myth–just watch the video for “Blow” for hyper-proof of that). Noticing that everyone else around her seems to possess a bowl of cereal they won’t share, Kesha ostensibly offers a metaphor for the fact that no one will give her what she wants despite the fact that she’s expected to give them what they want. But no longer will she buy into everyone telling her, “‘You’re the party girl, you’re the tragedy.’” She won’t abide by that, nor does she need anyone else’s help to get her own damn cereal.
Eventually, this forces her to the grocery store (much like Allie X seemed to be forced into one in the video for “Regulars”), where everything is labeled as though we’re in Alex Cox’s Repo Man. Checking out from a cashier who also happens to be her in a poker visor (interpret that bifurcation of personae to mean she’s been split into two people thanks to the public: Kesha and Ke$ha), she immediately runs out to start downing the cereal. Evidently the lifeblood that gives her the strength to do her own dance, as eponymously mentioned in the song. One that she needs to bathe in with the addition of milk to a kiddie pool (remember, it’s a trashy apartment complex, the kind where men don American flag underwear and Spring Breakers ski masks [again with the 2012 references]–so a kiddie pool turned into a giant cereal bowl isn’t that far off the mark).
As she lets herself sink into the mixture, she suddenly appears to be at total peace with herself. Whether others “approve” of that or not is none of her business. Saying “fuck you” to being or living with any version of herself that isn’t authentic (including a clone, in contrast to Miles Elliott).
