Reneé Rapp’s ‘Leave Me Alone’ and Why There’s Nothing Wrong with Fun Art

With the words “I’m a real bad girl but a real good kisser,” Reneé Rapp ushered in her new era with breathy talk-singing, classically trashy-pop lyrics, and a catchy beat, supported by intense electric guitar. 

With lyrics such as, “Leave me alone, bitch, I wanna have fun,” and “Even line my lips just to match my nipples,” the sleazy, early-2000s pop vibe of “Leave Me Alone” truly defied my expectations the first time I heard it, but in a negative way. In fact, my initial reaction bordered on disappointment. 

It was, to put it simply, incredibly different from Rapp’s past work, which blends thoughtful pop ballads with R&B influences. The lyrics were superficial, and there was seemingly no “message” to the song: the verse and chorus patterns weren’t very musically interesting, and Rapp didn’t utilise her powerhouse Broadway-trained vocals, opting instead for raspy speech-like singing.

It wasn’t until Rapp said she used to feel the same way about the song that made me stop and think about why I reacted the way I did. In an interview with host, Zane Lowe, Rapp mentioned that when she wrote ‘Leave Me Alone’, she initially thought it was “the worst thing ever”. The song bothered her; it wasn’t a ballad and she wasn’t saying “intense or earth-shattering.” In response, Rapp’s team told her to start listening to pop music more, and one of her favorite songs became ‘APT.’ by Rosé and Bruno Mars. It wasn’t until then that she would go on to reconsider the value of the track. Rapp’s thought process spurred me to look inwards; why did I think a “good song” had to have literature for lyrics, groundbreakingly creative production, or show-stopping vocals? 

It doesn’t.

I openly admit that I am extremely susceptible to the “pop music is bad” mindset — I thread the line frequently, and it’s something I’m actively attempting to unlearn. Nonetheless, I like to think that my critiques of certain pop artists and their music run deeper than disliking an overplayed song or overhyped artists and, instead, are founded in something beyond just a feeling. I believe the latter stems from preferring  poetic lyricism in songs, which is significantly less prevalent in mainstream pop music, or even perhaps due to the fact I enjoy more creative production. Still, I recognise that there’s something about hyper-popular music and mega-famous pop stars that tends to deter me immediately before I’ve given either a proper listen. 

Ultimately, my dislike of generic pop stems from the sheer volume of similar-sounding songs in the industry — music that often feels virtually identical. And while pop still isn’t my preferred genre, I’m actively learning that just because certain tracks resemble the biggest hits, it doesn’t mean the genre itself is inherently flawed. I’m always searching for music that sounds fresh — because freshness is rare, and because it’s rare, I assume it must be good. But that logic is flawed, placing too much value on whatever feels “different.”

At the end of the day, there’s nothing wrong with a song that’s fun solely for the sake of being fun. Art is meant to evoke an emotional response, and I’d argue that “vibing,” for lack of a better word, is an emotional response. Music doesn’t necessarily need to push boundaries, defy conventional structures, or carry a strong agenda or message to resonate with listeners, and that’s okay. It seems like “Leave Me Alone” taught Reneé Rapp the same thing.

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WORDS ALLYSON PARK