As far as songs about women loving women go, well, they’re pretty few and far between. Unless one wants to count queerbaiting singles like Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” and Rita Ora, Cardi B, Bebe Rexha and Charli XCX’s “Girls.” But, more and more, the disingenuousness of such “songs for straights going through a phase” has no place in a climate that continues to make claims of “inclusivity.” Fortunately, as Romy (still so often referred to as “the xx’s Romy”) continues to roll out singles for her debut solo album, Mid Air (though maybe it should be called Romy Madley Deeply), she’s seen fit to present us with “Loveher,” a queer anthem through and through. Co-produced, once more, with Fred Again.., the mid-tempo track starts out with minimal instrumentation as Romy says, in her modest tone, “Can you turn it up a bit more? Thank you.”
As the track goes on, however, it’s her we should be thanking. For finally providing the world with an honest, unbridled love letter from one queer woman to another. And sure, someone could make the argument that Romy is “speaking from the perspective of a man” when she sings, “See in her eyes that she’s lost in the moment/Holding on tight and all that I know is/Love her, I love her, I love her, I love her, I,” but why in the fuck would that be the case? Save to placate more narrow-minded traditionalists. And, in case any doubt was cast on the song’s intent, Romy cleared up any such “confusion” by saying, “Over time, growing up and also just noticing how the world is changing, I felt a lot more comfortable being more public. To write about loving a woman and not feel afraid or embarrassed… maybe it’s a growing up thing, and just not caring as much what people think.”
What’s more, lines like, “Lover, you know, when they ask me, I’ll tell them/Won’t be ashamed, no, I can’t wait to tell them” (if only this song had been around in time to be featured during the credits of Happiest Season) infer that the only reason one would be “ashamed” to tell others about the one they love is because that “one” forms half of a same-sex relationship. Unless, of course, a listener wants to instead make a more classist interpretation of being ashamed about announcing who their “lover” (the word Romy uses) is, à la Edward Lewis in Pretty Woman or Blane McDonough (Andrew McCarthy) in Pretty in Pink. But again, that would be a decidedly homophobic interpretation considering Romy has long been open about her sexuality, having come out to her father at the age of fifteen.
But Romy wouldn’t be so publicly open about it during her time with the xx. Though it bears noting that none of the lyrics she collaborated on with her bandmates, including Oliver Sim (who is also gay), ever bore any specific pronouns. It was in the wake of the last album that the xx put out, fittingly titled I See You, that Romy seemed more comfortable with “parading” her sexuality. And it was in 2017 (the same year I See You was released) that news of her engagement to visual artist Hannah Marshall broke. That engagement would eventually end in favor of one to photographer Vic Lentaigne, followed by the completion of that engagement with their marriage, as opposed to another instance of “let’s call the whole thing off.” It was Lentaigne, in fact, who directed Romy’s most recent video for “Enjoy Your Life” (and now, the one for “Loveher”), a collage of nostalgic clips that inspire one to do just that (even in spite of constantly feeling like the end is nigh). With Lentaigne’s own work described as “capturing queerness and identity,” she’s the perfect choice for also capturing the essence of Romy’s new solo music.
As for the overarching “theme” of Mid Air, it’s slated to be equal parts homage “to [her] formative years of queer clubbing” and to 00s Eurodance. Resultantly, Romy was taken back to that emotional place when she was just a teenager, going to the Soho (one shouldn’t have to specify that Soho refers to London, not New York Shitty) gay club Ghetto and watching from the sidelines as everyone around her danced, liberated in such a space as they could not be elsewhere. Someone who worked at the club eventually noticed her wallflower tendencies (though, as Romy stated, “I’d stand in the corner, stare and observe. But that was fun for me!”) and asked if she’d like to DJ. After all, what is a DJ if not the ultimate voyeur/wallflower within the club setting? Romy took to the gig like a lesbian to the Lilith Fair, and it would undeniably inform her solo work. Including “Loveher,” which, despite being a slower pace (call it, as Romy does, a ballad “within the context of club sound”) than something like “Enjoy Your Life,” still has ample club remix potential, rife with a rhythmic, house-y backbeat.
Having written the song during the lockdown period, Romy seemed to be struck with the epiphany that the next generation might lose the club experience that she got to enjoy. Fearing that it could very well be robbed from them. Not just because they prefer to be in the matrix of their phones anyway, but because the world has become a less physically safe space despite being theoretically more “accepting” than ever. Thus, she stated, “I really hope that younger queer people can have those connections [in clubs] and learn how beautiful it is.” At least before the next inevitable pandemic.
To accommodate those who would still like to experience queer club culture, Romy has specifically written an album that serves as the ideal soundtrack for that setting. And, going back to the abovementioned Lilith Fair analogy about lesbians, Romy also noted that, when she herself was an adolescent, it was difficult to find “lesbian music” that “didn’t take itself too seriously.” So it is that she remarked, “When I was a teenager, and I was looking for explicitly lesbian love songs that I could connect to, I definitely wasn’t finding any pop-dance music. It was more like, lesbian acoustic music. That’s the stereotype, I think. What does a lesbian love song sound like? Someone with an acoustic guitar!” Well, thanks to Romy, that’s no longer the case. No offense to Ani DiFranco (who currently likes “what’s in boys’ pants better”).
So it is that with simultaneously shy and declarative lyrics (e.g., “Dance with me, shoulder to shoulder/Never in the world have two others been closer than us/Closer than us/Hold my hand under the table/It’s not that I’m not proud in the company of strangers/It’s just some things are for us”), Romy builds on the canon of queer music with a much needed deviation from the usual lesbian cliches.
With “Loveher” being the first track on Mid Air (setting the tone for the queer love letter to come), Romy also bookends the album with a song titled “She’s On My Mind.” And it’s clear that queerness itself is very much on Romy’s mind, as she seeks to do her part to make those who might still feel othered “to really celebrate life and live it to the best, that’s how I like to be.”
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