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So Happy I Could Die

The lyrics are hardly subtle. “So Happy I Could Die” sings an ode to masturbation, physical passion that drowns out jarring emotion. And while this euphoric pursuit of pleasure grates against societal norm, it doesn’t matter, whisked away, “Up in the clouds, we’ll be higher than ever”, the world dissolves into physical tatters.

“So Happy I Could Die” embodies Lady Gaga’s fear of addiction, bottled in alcohol and attachment, where excitement and satisfaction override the senses. Lines unwrap presentation and pruning- “the way she walks” and “I am as vain as I allow, I do my hair, I gloss my eyes”- and fallback on tactile splendor, touching, loving. Vocalizations match the theme and the “eh-eh, yeh-ha, yeh-ha” mouth pure syllables that moan over ascending synths; only the deep bassline anchors one to the song’s gritty realism. Almost ethereal, sound moves in gossamer motion like a slow moving tide, the ebbing dream. After all, this paean to gratification reflects the obliviousness of the orgasm and measures its side effect: we’re drunk under the influence.

Whereas “The Fame” promoted the carpe diem lifestyle, excitement borders on overwhelming attraction within the song. It’s no longer life or love. “So Happy I Could Die” talks about existing only for that moment, the pinnacle of pleasure, and the “world is gonna bend” with bottle in hand and delirium in mind. Then it’s clinging onto the moment, always trying to reproduce or anticipate ecstasy. And finally it’s disaster, addiction, and obsession, even though the disappointment and deception’s gone.

Ultimately, Gaga reassures, saying “I touch myself and it’s alright.” The song departs from the rest of its partners; it lacks the eccentricity of “Teeth” or power package of “Telephone” and “Bad Romance.” Backup vocals softly cry “oooh-ooooh” and chord harmonies lightly play over one another. Comparing this to a club tune seems outlandish at first, but that’s the idea. “So Happy I Could Die” is the fleeting escapade into nightlife and ambiance. Love it, against the backdrop of bass frigates and jackhammer rap beats, the smooth surrealism of Gaga- the only one of its kind on the album. Cherish the feeling and sound. It doesn’t last for too long.

Appreciate the good in life, but don’t dwell; Gaga’s wise with her subtleties. On that zenith, body brimming to blowout, remember yourself and “have a good time.”

Gonna be okay. We’ll never fall apart. So happy I could die, and it’s alright.