There is an anger that grows from the coming away of a relationship that oppresses and represses, and that’s the tone of Banks’ sophomore album. There’s the co-dependency, manipulation, pining, and submission – then the eventual realisation and departure from the toxic union.
Banks re-entered the music sphere with the creepy MV for ‘Fuck With Myself’ – a statement about self-love and a reminder to be kinder to oneself. There is a consistent message of her growth from a bullied puppy dog in love as exemplified in ‘Weaker Girl’ and ‘Haunt’ (“Begging for you to come back to the ring/ ‘Til I’m salivating for attention that you won’t bring,” she solemnly admits over tropical embellishments.)
She is reminded of the time wasted for all the care and patience squandered by her lover who didn’t appreciate it, such as the frustrated futility expressed in ‘Trainwreck’ and in the dim weariness of ‘Judas’. This is a love blackened by a tumultuous union of two of the same person (“You and me together, we were Gemini feed,”) that shouldn’t be – but here are the raw, honest consequences.