Ariana Grande claims that her latest album, petal, comes from a feral place, one producing takes she didn’t rewrite or soften.
Now, petal is honest. But is it feral?
Eh. It’s peeved, at best.
The anger on petal is biting, not ravenous. The album’s atmosphere is alluring, provocative, and pointed, not terror-inducing.
Methinks She Doth Protest Too Much
Like any red-blooded woman, I loved the chainsaw scene in the petal music video. But that’s all the carnage we’re getting here, folks.
Grande’s shots are measured and accurate, more like an assassin’s than an inarticulate spray of bullets. It’s like comparing James Bond to the Columbine shooters. Which one do you think is more…feral?
So why insist on petal‘s depravity?
The Disappearing Pop Star
I can’t talk about Ariana Grande without talking about her diminishing body, so here goes nothing:
She’s real skinny these days. This info isn’t new, but her ana-face is. Since the Wicked press tour, she’s crossed a threshold of visible malnutrition unseen since Karen Carpenter.
Her extreme thinness, juxtaposed with her claims of ferocity, is like the kitten that thinks it’s a lion. You know what I mean:
I don’t know if this insistence is denial or perversity, as Grande both flaunts and disavows her condition.
Ariana has a history of online body-checking, including lots of “wittle bitty” pics-nestled cozily in a guitar case, draped in sweatshirts that become muumuus, hands tucked demurely in vacuous sleeves.
Is her behest of anger another hotel sink? In other words, a device to crouch in, to emphasize her tininess?
Performing Carnage, Displaying Bones
Ariana performs smallness the same way she does carnage: showing it (thoracic cage-baring dresses and realistic blood-spurting it), but not discussing, or explicitly acknowledging, it.
When society responded to her emaciation, we’re met with flat-out denial: her team (and therefore, seemingly, Grande herself) says that she is not only physically fine, but adept.
Athletic, even.
Are we seeing the same broad? In the same dress? What do you mean by “performing healthily?” I don’t care how much she hops around performing the new songs, the concerts are giving low energy. Lots of being moved around while singing and upper body choreo, yeah?
A Disclaimer
I’m no doctor. I’ve seen no blood tests.
(Uh, but I do have eyes. I know the average woman needs at least ten percent of her body to be made of fat to operate functionally. You can’t convince me that Ariana Grande has ten percent body fat.)
Besides, I’m interested in Ariana’s thinness as performance, not in terms of its’ health or morality.
(While I am concerned for her and her young audience, that’s not what this article is about. You can find that content elsewhere.)
I propose that Ariana Grande’s performance of smallness is like her claims of ferocity; a distraction, smoke and mirrors-for the average listener. But her content is not devoid of meaning. Ari has a specific message for a specific crowd.
It’s just not us.
A Coded Language
Those unfamiliar with eating disorders don’t recognize body-checking pics, “safe food” posts, and purposeful infantilization. But those in the know do.
Normies will see these things-like the “thinspo” potential (if Ariana didn’t want us to see her bones, we wouldn’t), her self-diminishment (the more recent, accent-less “baby voice”), and enforced helplessness (holding Cynthia Erivo’s finger for emotional support)-and call it weird. Talk about how unhealthy she looks, the effect on her young fans, blah blah blah.
Meanwhile, ED survivors instantly clock these things for what they are: a pro-ana approach to life.
Reading Between The Lines
Just as those who have never been exposed to eating disorders don’t recognize pro-ana dog whistles, those who aren’t supposed to be scared don’t recognize this album as feral.
When petal was announced, most assumed Ariana would sing about her latest break-up. But there’s no SpongeBob here—that’s another obscuration.
Then, upon release, listeners were all, “oh, she has a complicated relationship with fame and low-key hates her fans.”
I propose that that’s half-right.
Who Is Grande Threatening?
Ariana isn’t not talking about fame. Or, not just fame. She’s talking about the machine.
The predator class.
The cabal.
I believe Grande when she says that the her anger isn’t directed at those who come to her shows. I don’t think it’s really about her fans.
The album’s seventh song, freak, with the lyrics “I won’t do what you say, freak, anytime/I won’t give you your fantasy this time?” She ain’t talking to Mackenzie from Long Island.
She’s talking to Dan Schneider.
It Is That Deep
Ariana Stans love to cite her trauma lore to justify/excuse years of chaotic behavior (overlapping relationships, Blackiana, pro-ED Finsta accounts, etc), but they mostly stick to the Manchester concert bombing.
Of course, that was awful.
But, in my opinion, the damage done to Grande had happened years before.
The Nickelodeon Of It All
Ariana has only addressed Quiet on Set (a documentary exposing the Nickelodeon channel child star machine) once.
With what we know about Dan Schneider, Brian Peck, and other predatory employees, I have a hard time believing that Ariana Grande left that system unscathed.
Close But No Cigar
Misattributed lyrics support this.
On warning signs, Grande sings, “you give me a call when your numbers slide.” It is thought that Ariana was calling out snark/gossip creators, putting out content about her when their follower counts/income stalled.
Nah, those lyrics refer to the Schneider crowd, the corporations, and/or her team, pushing tours and projects.
Reading the lyrics through this lens (that Ariana is not referring to the dangers of parasocial relationships, but actual danger, from clear and present malefactors), freak is conturbing, not cheeky.
(Same with warning signs, petal, like i do, oh well, and hate that i made you love me.)
Conclusion
I find the most honest lyrics on petal to be “a couple million for my thoughts? I got plenty” and “I know too much for now.” And I hope they are a protection.
Keep reminding ’em that you know where the bodies are buried, Ariana.
Then live long enough to write that book.
Want More?
Need some more pop culture commentary? Check these articles out:
May they all rot in hell,
