‘Once More to See You’
— Nix Thérèse
I always tell my friends that if Mitski had come up as a rockstar during my high school days, I would have avoided SO much heartache. Definitely an exaggeration, but there weren’t many women (let alone of color) in the genre that I could relate to this closely. ‘Once More to See You’ often makes me feel sixteen again because it captures a sense of longing that consumed me then. Even idly doodling in a notebook and planning my next big move, I’d still have someone secretly in the back of my mind.
We open with Mitski’s sigh and the words, “in the rearview mirror, / I saw the setting sun on your neck / and felt the taste of you / bubble up inside me.” I love how this line establishes distance: the you is close enough to be watched, but too far to really be touched or felt. The mirror gaze is pretty inconspicuous, but staring at the neck already implies intimacy: it could be the site of hickeys given later on or breath could snake down it as secrets were passed between the couple. It’s a bodysite that tends to go unnoticed, but here even the streaming sunlight reaches the you more than the speaker can. Because of this, the speaker’s longing to be the warmth spread across the you is almost palpable. It’s a touch so light that we could miss it. This mirrors Mitski’s voice feels only a few touches above a murmur, leading me to feel that I’m more eavesdropping than anything.
The gaze continues, but it’s moved beyond the speaker now: “But with everybody watching us, / our every move, / we do have reputations.” What undue pressure in having to worry about what an audience will think on top of untangling feelings for someone, but it comes up all too often. There are many iterations of ourselves in the world, yet we bow to one in any given moment, and it’s usually the one that will keep us safest in whatever company we find ourselves. If being with your partner in private allows you to be your Freest Self™, it’s hard to come out of that space and resume a standoffish front in public. Navigating just how much you let slip can be the worst kind of tightrope.
We end on some of my favorite lyrics ever: “If you would let me give you pinky promise kisses / then I wouldn't have to scream your name / atop of every roof in the city of my heart.” Pinky-promise-kisses feel so sweet that I almost have a toothache. The intention of loving someone is made physical, and also implies many little moments of pleasure between them. Though there are many roofs in this heart-city, how much space they have or what they overlook matters little. Their height is interesting insofar as it would change the sound of the name, and I’m listening for the permutations of that scream. I’m waiting for all the shapes it could make.