It’s #20gayteen and rising LGBTQ pop stars like Troye Sivan and Hayley Kiyoko are doing away with the vague usage of “you” and getting specific about the objects of their affection. It’s not you; it’s him, or her, or them. Welcome to the call-me-by-your-pronoun era of pop music. Perched in their midtown Manhattan offices, watching the movement swell to a tipping point, are the executives of McCann New York—an advertising agency that recently commissioned this Universal Love EP for its client, MGM Resorts. The six-song EP is comprised of traditional wedding songs redesigned for same-sex couples.
Heavy-hitters like Bob Dylan lent their names to the project alongside pop-activists like Kesha and indie megastars like St. Vincent. The EP’s executive producer, Rob Kaplan, and co-producer, Tom Murphy, hail from the advertising world and the former runs Wool & Tusk, a company that, “pairs advertising agencies, brands and cultural institutions with music.” As an ad campaign, Universal Love is a huge success. It scored free publicity for itself in The New York Times, Billboard and Rolling Stone, and, as a result, probably drove a few extra thousand clicks to its client’s website. It’s a case study in how to get brand activism right. But can sponsored content like this really offer its audience anything genuine? Can swapping the pronouns in a love song actually make it more relatable to LGBTQ listeners? Call me a sucker, but as a newly betrothed gay woman, I have to say, it feels nice to have a song.
The EP’s success stems largely from the involved artists’ interpretations. Since 1928, “She’s Funny That Way” has been sung by men and women about partners of the opposite sex and Bob Dylan was likely aware of the song’s genderfluid history. His version pays homage to both Sinatra’s orchestral take and Billie Holiday’s bluesier approach. In the first verse, a pianist’s light stroke of descending keys trails Dylan’s warm voice as he sings, “Now he seems quite out of place/Like a fallen star.” It’s one of many playful elements in the arrangement that helps surface the song’s inherent silliness which had been buried by more heavy-handed approaches in the past.
When it was first released in 1963, “Then He Kissed Me” was lauded for effectively capturing the rush of a first crush in song. Produced by Phil Spector, it told the story of a young girl gushing over her steady. Now rewritten as “And Then She Kissed Me,” St. Vincent’s version features vigorous drumming that keeps up with the furious heartbeat of a young woman who just experienced that “Oh fuck, I think I like her, like her” feeling for the first time. When Clark confesses, as if through clenched teeth, “I wanted to let her know that she was more than a friend,” she’s relaying an experience that’ll ring true for same-sex couples who’ve had to navigate their feelings in a world where opposites supposedly attract.
The lead singer of Bloc Party, Kele Okereke, took on love’s sturdiest soundtrack by choosing to redo the Temptations’ classic, “My Girl.” He freed himself from the song’s most famous hallmarks to make space for his own version which replaces the original’s strings, horns and endless crescendos with a more mellow and contained approach to instrumentation. A light but steady touch on the drums carries the track along at a pleasant pace. In Okereke’s hands, “My Girl” turns into “My Guy” and matures from being an exuberant, declaration of love to a relaxed admiration of someone dear to him. It’s a sweet transformation to a song that’s been nearly loved to death.
The biggest missed opportunity on Universal Love is Valerie June’s reworking of “Mad About the Boy.” Originally written by the famed, gay playwright Noël Coward, supposedly for Cary Grant, the lyrics tell the story of a man (Coward) who’s revived by a pesky crush for a young Hollywood star (Grant). It’s a dramatic song, and though June commands the sprawling arrangement well enough with her brassy vocals, she fails to imbue it with the kind of melodrama Coward intended. Given the song’s origins, it’s worth wondering what kind of emotional effect would’ve been produced by a version that featured a man’s vocals. Still, June’s version is a convincing one, as are all of the tracks on Universal Love. Kesha turned in a damn good version of Janis Joplin’s “I Need a Man to Love,” but it’s Ben Gibbard’s stripped-down version of the simple “And I Love Her” that reminds listeners just how ordinary but wonderful it is to love someone without limit.
