I had just moved to Nashville. And I was in this strange spell where my only friends were the men I met on Hinge. I know, I know. I should know better. But the truth is. I was enjoying being the new, hot, exotic girl. Yes being a jewish, brunette from LA with blue eyes makes me exotic out here. Plus dating seemed to happen so easily! This weird thing was happening where men actually looked me in the eye. They didn’t look over my shoulder as if someone famous was standing behind me. And they actually seemed like they wanted to be in a relationship sometime soon! Unheard of in Los Angeles!
But then of course- there was Mr. Bad News- let’s just call him Sam. Sam appeared sweet and tasteful and cute and hilarious and cool on the surface - but deep down he was a very troubled man. I learned this the more we connected. He was royally fucked. A gigantic flake. Certainly had a drinking problem. But there was one thing that kept me holding on: his taste in music. He had such fucking great taste in music. Every time I would try to ween off him. He would send me a new song. A new band he had discovered. Or some diamond from the past. I would say something in conversation and he would remember a lyric from a song he loved, send it to me, and it would be a gem from the 90’s I had never heard of. All of this to say- I was rocked and stuck. To the point where not only was I writing about him lyrically, but I was bringing the sonic palette he had introduced me to into my writing sessions. Perhaps subconsciously building a world he would want to dive into- something that would grab his attention.
Drop Everything is a direct bi product of this experience. For better or for worse. Sam is the reason this song exists. But the good news is. It got me a gem that I adore. I was listening to so so so much Radio Dept. at the time. (A 90’s dream pop band from Sweden he had introduced me to), and I was determined to capture that gloomy but catchy, European mood with my songs. Sam had given me references for a world I had been feeling and trying to elude to in my art for years- but never really had words for. For that, I am grateful.
The part I keep telling myself is that I didn’t write this song for him. I wrote it for me. I never feel him when I listen back to it. I only think of my own longing. My own desire. My own passion and truth and complexity when it comes to men and relationships. And the fact that I did it. I made something I love out of something that hurt. Something I can dance to. Smile to. Sing along to. Something upbeat and pop driven that means something but also feels FUN.
I hope you get it. I hope you love it. I hope you drive around this summer blasting it in the car. Giving a metaphorical middle finger to all the lovers that have pissed you off- and simultaneously welcoming all the love you have to give yourself.
xx