The Singles Jukebox

Is that a theme you spot? That’s right! IT’S ANGST MONDAY!

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[7.25]

Edward Okulicz: A breakup that can be seen coming a mile off and lasts an eternity is always pop song gold; there are so many emotions you can use to inform writing or performance. “Now I’m All Messed Up” is successful because it captures a good deal of them (anger, resignation, bargaining… and more!), and the fine details are just so. They wonder “whose life you’re making worthwhile,” which is a fine heartbreak of a line sung with perfect numbness. The hazy bass gives it enough bottom end to nod your head to, and if that’s not enough, the song has two choruses, both excellent.
[9]

Alfred Soto: The double chorus is the killer: music building as the sisters acknowledge the mess to a yelped climax in which they kiss off their lover with enough lust to suggest the door’s still open. The clattering drum programs and doomy major chords of the verses are the sorts of things through which I used to fast forward when tapes were still the thing.
[6]

Jonathan Bogart: There’s a small portion of the sturm-and-drang pop of the 1980s encoded in this song’s DNA: I’m hearing bits of “Because the Night,” “We Belong,” and even “Total Eclipse of the Heart” here, smoothed out into a jittery electro plead. Neither of the sisters’ voices are powerful enough to approach the scalding emotions of Patti Smith, Pat Benatar, or Bonnie Tyler, so they do what they always do and find power in a union. The final chorus, with the contrapuntal “please stay”s, is as good as anything that’s ever come out of a car radio.
[8]

Iain Mew: The first word of the song is “stay”, but followed as it is by “you’ll leave me in the morning anyway” it’s clear that it’s only a temporary hope. From there the song is an amazing performance of containment, the protagonist sick and tired and laying out wrongs but trying to stay calm, knowing that the relationship is irretrievable and separation is for the best, yet still longing for company in the moment. When the veneer of calm gives way and the tidy piano and electro-pop gets overridden by Tegan and Sara pleading “please stay!” and “go!” at the same time, the sense of release is stunning.
[9]

Brad Shoup: Dig the parallelism in the verses, especially the giant-step rhyme for “my heart”/”leave a mark”. It’s one of the first echoes in a naturally-diminishing cycle. I thought the chorus — its chords reminiscent of Western graduation pop songs — served as a flashback to a half-triumph. But realizing that it’s all of a repetition makes it tougher. The sisters create a hell of a yelp on the chorus, and the piano clanging like a train crossing is a genius little earworm, but there’s too much time spent on the kiss-off.
[6]

Alex Ostroff: On any of their other records, this would be the most polished track, but amidst the shimmer of Heartthrob, the static that opens and closes “Now I’m All Messed Up” dregs the feelings up from a sea of fog and then allows them to dissolve back into the murk. The verses, too bitter to be entirely stoic, are a masterclass in saving face, only to be undercut purposefully by that split-second look in her eye or the catch in her voice as she forces the “Go!” from her throat. The echoing piano chords (oddly reminiscent of “Hold Yuh“) delicately hang in the air, unresolved and terrified of making Tegan and Sara have another typical emotional upset. The subtle queerness is perfect; this isn’t a song appealing to the universality of emotion or whatever and erasing the lives of its authors, but it also refuses to spell it out for you. “Sick and tired of wondering where / where you’re leaving your makeup” (or a casual “boy” in Frank’s “Thinkin Bout You” or any other matter-of-fact circumstantial evidence of queerness) says so much more and argues for the humanity and dignity of queer folks so much better than 100 Macklemores ever could. I don’t want well-meaning political anthems or pity; I want more people hearing engaging, intelligent, desperate, emotional, angry, frustrated, happy queer voices writing damn good pop songs.
[9]

John Seroff: T&S’s “All Messed Up” is a breathless, emo “UR n0t aLoNe” tweet for tweeniebopper GLBTQs and GWDGBs (Girls Who Date Goth Boys) left wondering where their lovers and their eyeliner are tonight. What’s missing is substance of any kind; even by the gossamer-thin standards of the contemporary pop power ballad, there’s little here to recommend. The often free-verse lyrics are baby food for the heartsick, the Alphabeat-reject hooks are decades past the sell-by date, the bridge is flimsier than the Verrazano.
[4]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: The way that the verses give way to a “let’s make this anthemic!” chorus is disappointing at first, the sudden musical reach for Big Moments feeling slightly doctored. But “Now I’m All Messed Up” needs to sound like it’s reaching for Big Moments for it to move from self-pity (“You never liked me anyway”) to daydreaming (“whose life [are] you making worthwhile?”) and yearning (“why don’t you just comfort me?”) without ever seeming ridiculous. I still prefer the piano loop, though.
[6]

Scott Mildenhall: Dissonance at the disco — disconance, if you won’t. Sara describes it as a melodrama, reflective of what she might say and do if she were in this situation in a movie: something the vocals and lyrics have more than the requisite power to convey, but there’s one sticking point in the featherweight production, which is more My Bodyguard than The Bodyguard. There’s lots to like — “where you’re leaving your makeup” is a brilliant euphemism — but had that had more punch, this might have made for a better single. As it is, it works better as part of Heartthrob.
[7]

Jer Fairall: “Now I’m All Messed Up” is about the point on the record where it begins to abandon its big shiny hooks (of which there are many) in favour of a fully revealing itself as a work shrouded in doubt, romantic and otherwise. Unlike the ironically anthemic (and all the more heartrending for it) “I’m Not Your Hero,” the melancholy here is purely of the post-breakup variety, and the music slows down to a measured crawl that lays its emotions completely bare. By the time they get to pleading “go! Go! GO IF YOU WANT! I CAN’T STOP YOU!” the experience of listening verges on the uncomfortably intimate, like overhearing a lover’s spat through an apartment wall. It is an uneasy moment on an album that only pretends to be all about pleasure.
[7]

Will Adams: I’ve lost count how many ex-lovers, ex-crushes, ex-friends I’ve thought about as I lay awake at night, wondering what each of them is doing in that moment. Where are you right now? I’ll imagine that someone else, real or fake, is lying next to them. What a lucky guy. As my stomach begins to twist into knots, I try to convince myself that everything happens for a reason, that this is the way it’s meant to be. As long as you’re happy… But it’s never sincere. It’s never enough. I want to be that person whose life is made worthwhile. I want to be that person who does the same in return. It should be me. And then I’ll realize that I’m being selfish, that this person does not belong to me. Once I admit that, I spiral into a web of self-defeat, optimism and loneliness. The knots tighten more, but I keep thinking about it until finally they release as I reach a final conclusion: I can’t stop you. I’m left unraveled, all messed up.
[8]

Katherine St Asaph: “Now I’m All Messed Up” works for two reasons. The angst, yes, that generally works; but more so, the contrast between the hyper-processed — the piano line, delivered precise as an audition accompanist, the drums that whir like fan blades through chiffon, the violins, the eighteen layers of reverb on Tegan and Sara’s voice, the too-neat chorus — and the raw. How “sick and tired wondering who” is spat out, for instance, or the way Tegan and Sara consistently go for the lyric you don’t expect. “Worthwhile,” in particular, hits harder than the obvious one, “go (please stay!)” Not only is the feeling accurate (why is her life worthwhile and not yours? Because fuck you, that’s why; their intent may vary, but either way you feel the same), but you’d only come up with this description in the moment, when you’re flailing with your first reactions. But the track itself remains so pristine. It’s like a breakup song suspended in breaking glass: painful to be around, painfully compelling.
[8]