CupcakKe was born Elizabeth Eden Harris in 1997, and grew up in Chicago, Illinois. Her childhood in Chicago was challenging. She was raised by a single mother and spent nearly four years in Chicago’s homeless shelters, but eventually found comfort in music and writing. In an interview in 2016, she stated, “‘Writing is … my friend. It’s family. I know it’s just words, but it’s something close to me. That’s how I look at it.’” 

She first started writing and performing poetry at her local church, and later shifted to writing rap verses after being encouraged to do so by a fellow member of her church. Her music is most known for its unabashed female sexuality, though she expressed in the same interview that her music encompasses a wide range of themes, from sex to her struggle with depression to autobiographical accounts of being molested by her abusive father and growing up on Chicago’s South Side. 

Before CupcakKe was announced as the LDOC artist, I mostly only knew her through the remixes of her hit songs that had gone viral on the internet. Like a good Wellesley student, I set out to study up on her music. With help from some friends who love CupcakKe and have seen her perform, I’ve created a list of Cupcakke songs to listen to before the LDOC concert:

1. LGBT
2. CPR
3. Deepthroat
4. Squidward Nose
5. Grilling N****
6. Spider-Man D***
7. Crayons

CupcakKe will be performing in Munger Meadow next Wednesday, May 1 at 7:00 p.m., and I’m looking forward to a concert that is fun, energetic and unapologetically herself.

Hozier’s success in the past year can be chalked up to more than just simple luck, but it certainly skyrocketed on St. Patrick’s Day of 2023 with the release of his teaser EP “Eat Your Young.” Since then, he released his highly anticipated third album “Unreal Unearth” in August 2023 and went on a sold-out tour around the globe. Now, one March later, Hozier marks two more major milestones. His second album — cheeky, existential “Wasteland, Baby!” — celebrated its fifth birthday on March 1, which he commemorated with the release of an acoustic version of “Be,” and the release of a new vinyl-exclusive song titled “Why Would You Be Loved.” On March 22, he released a surprise EP titled “Unheard,” which he described as the collection of songs that he wished to share with listeners but didn’t make the final cut of “Unreal Unearth.” 

At the time of the release of “Wasteland, Baby!” in 2019, “Be” was very much a reaction to the wave of right-wing nationalism dominating global politics. The opening lines of the song, “When the gyre widens on and when the wave breaks,” are spiraling and hopeless. The widening gyre is a reference to the poem “The Second Coming” by William Butler Yeats, which depicts the coming of the apocalypse as the narrator can only watch powerlessly while it unravels all that he holds dear. 

The original version of “Be” is furious in its condemnation of unjust systems: the destruction of our environment, the starvation of migrants at the border and the turning away of refugees fleeing death and destruction. Yet it takes an equally powerful position that stands defiant in the face of such despair in the lines, “Or be like the rose that you hold in your hand / That grows bold in a barren and desolate land,” refusing to give in to the overwhelming desolation of the landscape by growing bolder and more beautiful than ever before. 

In a Behind the Song video on Youtube, Hozier explains that “Be – Acoustic” isn’t just a stripped cover of “Be,” but rather an earlier sketch of the version that ended up on the original album. The apocalyptic imagery in the opening verses has been pared down, evoking only a verdant, if bittersweet, image of the loss of Eden. Whereas “Be”’s original instrumentals were loud, urgent, and ceaselessly pushing forward, this version is slowed and suspended underwater, in a scene similar to the album cover of “Wasteland, Baby!” The vocals are floating and gentle, and the acoustic guitar, playing a melody reminiscent of “Would That I” or “Shrike”, is a kind breeze flowing through this pastoral landscape. Hozier prefers the acoustic version of “Be” because it is more focused in the way “it just says what it says.” He describes the song as “part prayer, part lullabye, part request,” asking his lover to continue being the person that they’ve always been in the wake of something terrible, because their continued love for him is the ultimate act of resistance. 

Much as the original “Be” was rooted in the political climate of 2019, “Be – Acoustic” takes on new meaning five years later as millions worldwide protest the brutalities committed by the Israeli occupation against Palestinians. The song’s urging to clutch onto love is more important now than ever: love for the Palestinian people is resistance against Western narratives that seek to make the masses desensitized or apathetic to Israel’s inhumane acts, and love is resistance against attempts to paint Palestinians as subhuman and justify their calculated starvation and murder. Love then becomes the source for activism: it leads first to sorrow and shared grief, then fuels the defiance and fury that characterizes the original “Be.” In this version of the song, the same line about the rose, “Or be like the rose that you hold in your hand / That grows bold in a barren and desolate land,” highlights how the resilience of the earth is tied to the resistance of the people against occupiers that burn down trees and raze the ground. The song provides a hopeful message for the future — as long as we hold onto the ability to love and to “Be as you’ve always been,” the rose will persist and continue to grow bold no matter how barren or desolate the land. 

The topics of colonialism and occupation come up again in the new EP “Unheard” through the song “Empire Now.” A slow march to the beat of a war-mongering drum, “Empire Now” reflects upon British rule of Ireland one hundred years after the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, which marked the establishment of the Irish Free State. Lyrically, this song is more simplistic than some of Hozier’s other work — namely “Foreigner’s God” and “Butchered Tongue,” which both poignantly address the lasting impacts of British colonialism on Irish people — but it does draw important connections between empires of the past and empires today. The repeated line, “One hundred years from the empire now,” carries double meaning in that it considers both the distance between the present and empires of the past, and a future in which the empires of today have become history. The song’s intentional use of the word “martyrs,” a term commonly used by Palestinians to honor all those killed by Israeli forces, in the line “The martyrs of our revolution” emphasizes transnational solidarity as it draws parallels between Britain’s colonization of Ireland, Russia’s war in Ukraine, and the Israeli occupation of Palestine. 

“Unheard” also features three other songs, “Too Sweet,” “Wildflower and Barley,” and “Fare Well.” “Too Sweet,” with its groovy baseline and charismatic vocals, has been a standout among the four tracks. “Wildflower and Barley” is a bittersweet contemplation of life and death, while the deceptively upbeat “Fare Well” details the narrator’s pull towards pleasurable yet self-destructive tendencies. 

Once again, Hozier demonstrates his impressive ability to combine his immense vocal talent with beautiful, resonant lyrics. “Be – Acoustic” and the “Unheard” EP are poignant, nuanced, and more relevant than ever.

“The Anonymous Lover” was written in 1780 by Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges. It follows Valcour, a young Frenchman, who is in love with his close friend, the wealthy widow Léontine, but has been too afraid to tell her because she has closed off her heart to love after an unpleasant first marriage. Instead, he has spent the past four years wooing her anonymously through letters and flowers. He decides that enough is enough, and finally hopes to reveal himself to Léontine with the help of his best friend Ophémon and Léontine’s friend Dorothée. 

Bologne was a talented and renowned composer of the Classical era (roughly spanning from 1750 to 1820), yet his identity as a biracial Black man meant that he has been reduced to being known as a “Black Mozart.” Bologne’s erasure from the canon of respected Western composers is representative of the structural exclusion of Black people and other people of color in the classical music world. This exclusion continues to this day as Western classical repertoire still enshrines only male European composers as masters of the art, remaining inaccessible to Black and Brown communities in particular. Amongst the different forms of Western classical music, opera has had a reputation for being particularly stuffy and insular, remaining very much a sphere dominated by white and wealthy individuals.  

Considering this history, I especially appreciated the Boston Lyric Opera’s decision to have a Black female lead by casting the radiant Brianna J. Robinson as Léontine. Robinson’s clear soprano voice rang out beautifully throughout the theater, and the sensitivity and yearning with which she conveyed Léontine’s deep internal conflict when she realizes she might love her friend pulled at my heartstrings. Robinson’s vocal talent made her performance shine above the rest, although Sandra Piques Eddy’s acting as Dorothée was wickedly fun to watch as well. The supporting cast of “The Anonymous Lover” were absolutely crucial for the show’s success, injecting so much energy, dynamism and humor into an otherwise relatively simple plot. Eddy’s Dorothée and Evan Hughes’s Ophémon were especially charismatic in their joint scheming, playing off of each other effortlessly and acting as necessary foils to Robinson’s straight-laced, guarded Léontine and Omar Najmi’s awkward yet lovable Valcour. I felt Najmi’s performance, although still very strong, was perhaps the weakest compared to the others in the cast — his vocal performance paled in comparison to Robinson’s sheer talent, and the chemistry between Valcour and Léontine fell flat at times. 

The layout of the Huntington Theater made for a cozy and informal viewing experience, which helped me connect with the performances. It worked to the advantage of the production as a whole, which sought to make the opera more relaxed and accessible for audiences by changing the libretto, or the dialogue, from French into English. The orchestra, half-veiled by a sheer screen and located upstage behind the actors rather than in the pit, was delightful to experience, playing Bologne’s light embellished melodies with so much charm and personality. The BLO’s production of “The Anonymous Lover” as a whole was simply delightfully charming and lighthearted, making for a sweet, lovely production for Valentine’s Day. 

Two weeks later on Nov. 24, Duncan Crabtree-Ireland, SAG-AFTRA’s chief negotiator, released the full details of the drafted contracts with the AMPTP, known as the Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) draft. The major modifications established in the draft contract included changes regarding wages, streaming services, the minimum number of background actors hired, relocation bonuses, and limits on artificial intelligence, among many other gains as detailed in a report by CBS News. 

Under the new contract, general performers will receive an immediate wage increase of 7%, followed by a 4% increase in 2024 and a 3.5% increase in 2025. Background actors, stand-ins and photo doubles will also receive an immediate wage increase of 11%, with the same increases in 2024 and 2025 as general performers. Performers will also gain a bonus for certain successful streaming projects, determined by that project’s proportion of domestic views relative to the platform’s total domestic subscribers. Streaming producers are now required to disclose viewership information each quarter for high budget streaming productions, which aims to increase transparency surrounding fair compensation for actors in these productions. For TV and movie productions on the West Coast, the new contract dictates that the minimum number of background actors be increased to match the requirements in New York. Additionally, performers that are required to relocate for their work in a series will receive a 200% increase in relocation benefits, now being entitled to benefits of $5000 a month for six months. 

Other major gains made in the new agreement include provisions for hair and makeup equity. Black actors have long voiced the inequities they’ve experienced in hair and makeup trailers because the hairstylists and makeup artists that were hired did not know how to work with their hair types or did not have makeup in shades that matched their skin tones. The new provisions in the contract aim to address these inequities by providing hair and makeup consultations prior to production to ensure that the proper products are equipped on set. If performers must seek alternatives because the production is unable to provide this, they will be reimbursed. Both the consultation and compensation provisions apply only to principal performers (defined as performers with speaking roles) and not to background actors.  

According to the Washington Post, SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher described regulations around artificial intelligence (AI) as being “the last and most difficult issues to be resolved” in negotiations with the studios. Its major conflicts were between the union’s determination to gain AI protections for its members and the AMPTP’s unwillingness to “tie their hands” with such regulations. Under the new contract, studios must receive explicit consent from all actors (including background performers) to create digital replicas of a performer’s likeness, and that consent must be given at the time the replica is used. To ensure that actors are being fairly compensated for the use of their digital replicas, the contract establishes a standard for actor compensation that focuses on the amount of work an actor would have done in the place of their digital replica.  

The AI stipulations have been a source of controversy among members of the guild, with concerns centered around giving consent for use of digital replicas and potential loopholes in the contract, as reported by Rolling Stone. Those worried about the contract’s AI stipulations argue that while the provisions about specific consent seem good on paper, it creates a new kind of issue about the coercion of performers who do not wish to be digitized by studios. Shaan Sharma, an alternate member of the union’s negotiating committee voiced his fear that while certain individuals with enough leverage in the industry will be able to deny the use of their digital replicas and still land roles, consent could potentially be used by studios as “the fee for entry,” as Sharma describes it, for others in the industry. In other words, studios could refuse to hire performers for certain roles unless they consent to be digitized. Actors are also concerned about what they should do if studios use their image in ways they did not consent to. Based on the new contract, they could seek monetary compensation from the studios, but they would still be powerless in making the studios alter that footage, creating a potential loophole that Sharma fears would leave performers vulnerable.

The deal SAG-AFTRA reached with AMPTP is a major victory for the union, proving the effectiveness of the summer’s historic strikes. With that being said, some of the contract’s provisions provide unequal protections for different types of performers, highlighting disparities in vulnerability within the union. In a note to guild members, Crabtree-Ireland urged members to support the new contract, emphasizing that the gains made in the contract “are only possible because of your sacrifice, solidarity and tenacity over the 118 days of the strike and are assured if you vote to ratify the agreement.” The new contract will not be approved until members vote to ratify the draft MOA by Dec. 5. 

The Vanderbilt family’s seemingly endless railroad fortune meant that no expense was spared (champagne alone blew $1 million of the budget), and guests were expected to do the same for their attire. Though costumes ranged from vaguely historical to grotesque to racially questionable, the common denominator was the unabashed spectacle of decadence. It’s crucial to keep the historical context of the Vanderbilt Ball in mind and view the Ball’s costumes with an air of critical appreciation, striking a balance between appreciating the intricate artisan work, painstaking craftsmanship and sheer beauty of these elaborate costumes while also being critical of the tone-deaf lavishness, exploitation and wealth inequality woven into the fibers of these garments. 

Alice Claypoole Vanderbilt as “Electric Light”

(José Maria Mora, Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt as ‘Electric Light’ at the Vanderbilt Ball, 1883. New-York Historical Society Library.)

Worn by Alva Vanderbilt’s sister-in-law Alice Vanderbilt, this costume was designed by leading couturier Charles Frederic Worth. It paid tribute to the marvel of the electric lightbulb while also referencing the iconic pose of New York’s Statue of Liberty. It was first displayed in Manhattan’s Madison Square Park in 1876. Gold thread and silver tinsel were painstakingly embroidered by hand onto yellow satin in a lightning pattern, and, most remarkably for the era, a battery was sewn into the dress in order to light up her handheld torch. 

Alva Vanderbilt, though triumphant in her victory over Caroline Astor, was outshined by her sister-in-law Alice’s Electric Light costume, which almost certainly threw a damper on her celebratory mood.

Kate Fearing Strong as “Cat”

(Mora (b. 1849). Miss Kate Fearing Strong (later Mrs. Arthur Welman). 1883. Museum of the City of New York. F2012.58.1460.)

Just “Cat” was Kate Fearing Strong’s costume. It was completed with what The New York Times reported as “a stiffened white cat’s skin” on her head, an overskirt made of white cats’ tails, and a bodice with rows of white cat heads. What’s on her neck? A midnight blue choker with a bell dangling from the center and inscribed with “Puss,” allegedly a reference to the wearer’s nickname. 

Unidentified woman as “Goose” 

(A woman dressed as a goose at the Vanderbilt Ball, 1883. New-York Historical Society Library.)

Continuing on the taxidermized-animal-as-headwear train, an unidentified woman came dressed as “Goose,” which quite aptly sums up the look. 

Alva Vanderbilt as “Venetian Princess”

(José Maria Mora, Mrs. William K. Vanderbilt (Alva Murray Smith) as a Venetian Princess at the Vanderbilt Ball, 1883. New-York Historical Society Library.)

The hostess herself came as a “Venetian Princess,” based on a painting by Alexandre Cabanel. Her contemporaries at The New York Times described her dress as having striking hues of brocade from “the deepest orange to the lightest canary” and a light blue satin train with gold embroidery and lined in “Roman red.”  Her lavish gown was bedecked in colored gems, making her look like a “superb peacock.” 

Other costumes included “Persian Princess,” “Egyptian Princess,” “G*psy Queen,” and Christopher Columbus (terrifying, indeed).  Party guests stumbled home as late as 4 a.m. the following morning with aching feet and powdered wigs askew.  

When crossing the gateway into hell, Dante writes, “Through me, you enter into the population of loss.” The idea of loss was reverberating around the world as the album began taking form in March of 2020, and in those early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, Hozier describes the presence of “so much potential energy in the air of potential loss; everybody knew someone they could lose.” While “Unreal Unearth” never explicitly makes reference to that period of the pandemic, that feeling of loss and change lingers as it paves the twisting path carrying the album through the underworld. 

“Unreal Unearth”’s descent into hell begins with a door creaking open into Limbo, the first Circle; the strings of an acoustic guitar — the cool mist curling around your feet — bring an invitation and a quiet warning: ”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.” “De Selby (Part 1)” is a haunting exploration of obscurity and darkness. Named for the mad philosopher De Selby from Irish author Flann O’Brien’s “The Third Policeman”, Hozier explains in a “Behind The Song” video that the track reflects upon the falling of night and darkness as a place where all is lost. The subsequent emptiness that remains is utterly unbearable — the very same feeling that drove God to banish darkness and create light. In the dark, boundaries become obscured: if you can no longer see where your hand ends and the darkness begins, have they become one and the same? 

The final verse of “De Selby (Part 1)” is sung in Gaelic, and describes two lovers who undergo a metamorphosis in the darkness together in which, like the hand in the darkness,  it becomes impossible to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. Hozier considers this portion of the song to be an expansion “upon that thought [of darkness and emptiness] in the direction of love song,” and acts as a transition toward its sequel and sister song “De Selby (Part 2),” which builds upon this idea using  a funky and dynamic track. Darkness makes even the boundaries between songs fade away as a ringing pulse bleeds from Part 1 into Part 2, causing the loss of individual endings and harkening the joint metamorphosis of “De Selby’s” two pieces like the lovers in the dark. 

In seventh grade I made fun of my best friend for reading “Twilight.” I know — I’m deeply ashamed — and there’s no undoing the past, only making up for it in the present. So to rectify my foolish misdeeds, I am writing this in print for everyone to see: to the person on campus with the “Twilight” hoodie, I am extremely jealous of you. I’m certainly not the only one who feels this way, because according to Google Trends, Google searches in July 2021 for “Bella Swan” were at the highest that they have been since 2013, the year after the final “Twilight” film was released, and have remained consistently higher than they were pre-July 2021. The “Twilight Saga” Instagram account is verified with 2.4 million followers, nearly double that of “The Hunger Games,” another veteran of the 2010s franchise craze. “Bella Swan core” and “Twilight core” have been all over my social media accounts, and old messenger bags with Edward Cullen staring broodily through the screen sell for $50 on Depop, a popular online market for second-hand clothing and accessories. The resurgence that “Twilight” has been experiencing in the past few years has been dubbed by some to be the “‘Twilight’ Renaissance.” Renaissance (no, not the name of Bella’s child), as we all remember from high school history class, means “rebirth.” The final “Twilight” film premiered over ten years ago — what caused “Twilight,” like Bella after dying in childbirth, to be reborn again?

Although there are certainly a wide variety of factors driving the resurgence of the “Twilight Saga,” three stand out to me: TikTok trends, the resurgence of Y2K and the rejection of misogynistic tropes. On TikTok, videos referencing the “Twilight Saga” or mimicking its iconic blue-green filter have gained traction. According to Business Insider, the tag “#twilight” has gotten over 10 billion views on TikTok, while the “Dazzling Look” filter on the app, which gives  users a Cullen-like appearance, has been used over 100,000 times. Songs from the “Twilight Saga” soundtrack, such as “Roslyn” by Bon Iver have been used in 242,700 TikTok videos and “Supermassive Black Hole” by Musehas been used in 476,800 videos. The fact that TikToks about “Twilight” are constantly circulating on the wildly popular — and widely impactful — app has caused the “Twilight” fanbase to be revived. 

Fashion cycles — specifically the “twenty-year rule,” which points out a pattern in fashion trends that the styles that are considered “in” today draw their inspiration from the fashion of 20 years ago — have meant that clothing trends of the early 2000s (also known as Y2K), like low-rise jeans, baby tees, micro mini skirts (as Paris Hilton, the queen of Y2K, once said, “Skirts should be the size of a belt”), skinny scarves and low-slung belts have made their comeback. There doesn’t seem to be a consensus on when Y2K ends, with people claiming it ended anywhere between 2003 and 2005. Either way, the “Twilight” films (which serve as the main source of “Twilight”-related fashion inspiration, more so than the books) which came out between 2008 and 2012, seem to be too late to meet the cutoff. However, the fashion of “Twilight” still features the hallmarks of Y2K fashion and has thus also benefited from Y2K’s resurgence.

The characters, especially Bella and Alice, put their own twist on Y2K trends. Bella wears low-rise flare jeans, tight-fitting Henleys and black converse, all earthier, indie-fied versions of Y2K staples, reflecting her clumsy, girl-next-door personality. Alice’s wardrobe features a black and white color palette, puffy blouses and velvet ribbon chokers, which reference the high collars and velvet capes of traditional Victorian vampires, while her tight waistcoats, chunky silver jewelry and skinny scarves are reminiscent of edgier Y2K styles sold at stores like Hot Topic. The “Twilight” costumes have become an aesthetic of their own, known as Bella Swan core or Twilight core, and the popularity of that aesthetic on social media sites popular with young people like Pinterest, TikTok and Instagram, and thus the popularity of “Twilight” by extension, is no doubt aided by its incorporation of Y2K fashion staples at a time when Y2K is trending again.

The third reason for the renewed popularity of “Twilight”  is a combination of nostalgia and the rejection of tropes that stigmatized media that was widely consumed by teenage girls. The generation embracing the comeback of “Twilight” the most is the generation that grew up in the late 2000s/2010s. “Twilight” is a source of nostalgia that transports us to a simpler time in our lives,  most of us have fond memories of watching the “Twilight Saga” on cable, with some of us even seeing the movies in theaters.. At the time that they were initially popular, media primarily aimed at teenage girls (like boy bands and yes, “Twilight”) was ridiculed and seen as frivolous. As a result, many of us didn’t feel that we could openly enjoy those things without people thinking we were one of those caricatured teenaged girls — boy-crazy and airheaded. I certainly felt this way. I felt that I had to act dismissively towards “Twilight” in public so nobody would think that I was one of those girls that enjoyed “Twilight.” Now that this generation has gotten older, we have come to realize the misogyny inherent in the “I’m not like other girls” mentality, and we have reclaimed the nostalgic media of our childhoods that we previously felt ashamed to enjoy. Now, my friends and I loudly obsess over Alice in the iconic baseball scene during our “Twilight” marathons in the common room, and we feel absolutely no shame for doing so.

The combination of these three factors working together has meant that the “Twilight Saga” has recemented its place in modern pop culture. The “‘Twilight’ Renaissance” will have you asking questions like “Why does the baby Renesmee doll haunt my dreams?” and “Why don’t I own a ‘Twilight’ hoodie?” and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. To quote the ever-broody and ever-sparkling Robert Pattinson, “It’s not even cool to be a hater anymore. That’s so 2010.”

Dacus opened with “Hot & Heavy,” a song from her 2021 album “Home Video” about the nostalgic and often painful memories of past relationships that were tied to her hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Originally recorded as an energetic song dominated by a bold electric guitar, the version Dacus performed was stripped to its barest layers. The bittersweet nature of the lyrics could be felt in full force as Dacus’s smooth, full voice floated around the room, while the soft strums of the acoustic guitar had the crowd swaying. Her performance of slower songs like “Thumbs” had the audience in a hushed trance, while the opening lines of her recent boygenius release “true blue” were met with whoops and cheers. Confessing that she felt nervous playing “Night Shift” from 2018’s “Historian” without a band to support her, she asked the audience to join in, urging them to “sing impolitely.” Hearing the meld of so many voices singing in unison as she belted the refrain of “Night Shift,” which grew in emotion and built in volume every time she repeated it, drew the concert to a swelling conclusion. 

Dacus then gave a short Q&A, answering questions that ranged from her favorite city to perform in (Boston, obviously) to what it was like writing songs with Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker for boygenius (it’s much easier to make decisions with them). When describing her process as a songwriter, she emphasized that she always writes melody and lyrics together, feeling that melody should exist to emphasize and punctuate the meaning of the lyrics.  

The show Dacus played at Northeastern was one of the most intimate and vulnerable concerts I had ever been to. She wasn’t someone whose presence was electrifying or dazzling, nor did she have a stage persona full of swagger and charisma. But because of that, Lucy Dacus was tangible — like she was my friend, someone who would give me book recommendations and who I could confide in. Somehow, I felt a connection to her, and in those two hours we shared, we were under the same spell, until it faded away as the last chords of “Night Shift” dissipated into the night.