Carly Rae Jepsen: Dedicated to Being “Too Much”
As Pitchfork contributor Hanif Abdurraqib wrote in his collection of essays, They Can’t Kill Us Till They Kill Us, Carly Rae Jepsen is a pop singer who writes music authentically and openly about her emotions. In Emotion, she cuts out her heart and records its heartbeats. She invites you to spontaneously run away with her, get lost together and eventually accept that she has her own boy problems and that you do, too. Elsewhere, she demands to cut to the feeling, craving that emotional touch and connection. Combined with 80s synth sounds and an iconic sexy sax tune, Emotion became a big hit. The Canadian singer was no longer a one-hit wonder who just wanted you to call her maybe, she became a voice for emotionally intense and affectionate people.
Her Dedicated album tour was no different. Dedicated is an album about the spontaneous wild rush of a short lived relationship from the perspective of someone who’s “too much.” It begins with a catchy confession to Julien, a boy she dedicates her love to throughout the entire album (named differently to me, of course, to avoid my lawyers). She describes this new relationship as a drug; a euphoric feeling that she wants to latch onto and never let go. She begs to be everything he needs, to greedily want him in her room and suspects that these feelings must mean she’s automatically in love. As she starts to overthink further, she questions whether she’s too emotional, too intense, too much; whether there’s anything more than just desire between them and that ultimately, wanting someone isn’t the same as loving them. Ending the album, she takes a step back from her passionate dedication and breaks up with Julien, accepting that if he doesn’t care about her, she’ll party by herself again to the heart beat of her own drum.
The emotional journey Jepsen tells in Dedicated speaks to people who overthink, are frequently told they’re too emotional and criticised for desperately seeking deep human connection. There’s nothing more apparent that you meet this description than your friends passionately pointing at you during a Carly Rae Jepsen concert.
Tickets to Dedicated went on sale on my birthday. I bought tickets to Dedicated with a boy I met three days prior, off on the emotional high of a romantic whimsical weekend where we spent one night out till 2am chatting, flirting, making out and wearing each other’s clothes. We made each other the Gen Z equivalent of a mixtape — personalised Spotify playlists — called every few days to hear each other’s voice and often had three different conversations going at once. It felt exhilarating, rewarding and emotionally fulfilling.
But, a month in, we realised we weren’t a right fit for each other. No matter how incredible the first few weeks were, how striking and interesting he was, my emotional needs weren’t being met. We had different priorities and expectations in a relationship. In the last few dates and as I awaited replies from him like an emergency patient hooked to machines and IV drips, I battled with the idea that I was being too much.
As communication went from texting about slow dancing to the right song to just a snapchat image a day — growing increasingly more frustrated as I tried to piece together a conversation and what was going on in his life from a random photo of a pile of finished dinner plates in an Italian restaurant in Perth — I decided that perhaps I was too much for not just him, but anyone. Then, as the relationship drifted further apart and he ignored my messages and stopped initiating conversations for two weeks, finally forgetting about our plans to go see Carly Rae live, I accepted it was over. We didn’t “officially” break up until a few days after Carly Rae Jepsen and after I pressed for an answer on Snapchat.
While breakups are never fun, having this experience so closely tied to seeing Carly Rae Jepsen in Australia for the first time in her nine year long career, made the experience so uniquely and profoundly special. Almost as if, Carly made this concert for me.
Beginning with “Run Away With Me,” she called back to the first few weeks with my ex, how I felt like I wanted to spontaneously drop everything around me to be with him. During “Julien,” as I waved an inflatable sword given to me by a friend cosplaying as CRJ, I bopped to the idea that she was singing about me to a room of hundreds, reminding my old lovers and tinder matches in the crowd of my existence. Without being there, with “Everything He Needs,” she recounted my fight with him about how I wanted to be everything he needed — and how he didn’t need anyone —and how I needed that as a vessel to express my vast cavity of emotions.
In “Store,” she playfully joked about how we wrestled in the backstreets of Chippendale, brutally flirting around the idea of him going to the store and never coming back. In “Too Much,” Jepsen in one of the few moments she spoke to the crowd, asked if I had ever been told I was too much and that whoever said that to me, wasn’t the right person for me — a conversation between my housemate and I that’s echoed the house’s halls for years. And, in “Boy Problems,” she reminded me that we all have boy problems, and that I just broke up with my boyfriend earlier that day.
Music always has a prophetic impact on my life. I saw Mitski after coming out of a messy complicated romance with a sad poet boy who introduced me to her. I saw Kim Petras and Charli XCX during a period when I wanted to have fun, drink and feel free and powerful with my friends. And, I saw Carly Rae Jepsen as I was processing a break up and realising that I’m not too much; I’m just enough for me. Selfishly, Dedicated was everything I needed and will always be my concert, and I’m eternally grateful to Jepsen for that.
