It’s been so long. Too many forevers. We’ve had that taste of “Honey” in our mouths for a year. We’ve boomed “Missing U” from our bedrooms, our windy rooftops, our shitty old cars. An anthem for the times. A song to howl at a fading summer moon. But the warm is coming to a close and soon a bitter cold will take hold. We don’t want to demand. We just want you to know. The earth keeps spinning, we miss u too.
This is how it feels: Pop music is nothing without you. And dance, too. Especially today, you’re leading the way. Even through your years of near silence, we’ve heard you, we’ve felt you come through. Those bright synths of Carly Rae, the sincerity of Troye Sivan, Lorde and her cool, Grimes and her ether. They tide us over. They give us hope. Hope in the next group of kids. Hope in your return. In these hazy times, you are a guiding light. Your songs have a sweet spirit, a certain depth. We are more human with you.
A friend said of your latest single: “I like it. But I wish she didn’t go for such sad songs.” Sad songs! Ha! What is life if not shuffling off this big, fat mortal coil? What is living if not an incessant toil? You’re a rose in the concrete, a violet in the snow. What you give us is uncommon. It’s experiential. No real sense of time or of place. We just do this existing with you. This floating through purgatory. Radiant. Eternal.
Listen. We know it’s not easy. You have #goddess status. Up there with Björk, with Kylie, even Donna Summer. A watched pot never boils. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Totally. It’s why we admire you so much! And why you’re so respected across the board. You are thoughtful with your music, require perfection. You want the best for you, and the best for us. It’s all on your terms and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
So to you we remain devoted. To your sense of style, so club kid chic always in outfits stretchy enough for dance. To your energy, on stage and off, that never finds its end. To your knowing what we need before we ever knew we needed it. And perhaps most importantly, you seem so genuine, so kind. That friend who calls up when we’re down, says drop what you’re doing let’s go. And off we fly, somewhere anywhere but here. We’re ready for it, always ready.
Ready for Honey. For more music. All the music. For joy that throbs. For sadness that trembles. Whatever you’re willing to say, we will listen. Ten songs. Nine songs. Eight songs. You are our safe space. A time to be weird and feel okay. An emerald on the pavement. Seven songs, six songs, five songs. The night that turns into morning. The phone that no longer matters. A few million of the mostly lonely. Ready for a pulse. Four songs, three songs, two songs.
This is it. We’re no longer in the corner. We left that place long ago. You gave us the courage, to move our bodies to the center of the dancefloor, finally, finally, finally. Spinning beneath the disco ball, the fast flashy lights. We’re all here together. In one spot. One song. Waiting for you. We never left, Robyn — come find us.