"fuck men, i'm hot"

longing for the shameless simplicity ("basic"ness) of 00s pop music

The Girls Aloud reunion tour, 2024 - Nicola, Cheryl, Kimberley and Nadine (sorely missing Sarah Harding)

I’m not convinced pop music goes as hard as it used to. Maybe I’m blinded by my nostalgia, but I feel like I’m not hearing enough vapid, dancey bangers which say little beyond “fuck men, I’m hot.” 

With the advent of the “literary it girl” or “thought daughter”, it seems we’re all preoccupied with being deep (which is ironic when both of these concepts hinge primarily on aesthetics and TikTok trends). Even the “brat girl summer” everyone’s talking about – inspired by Charli XCX’s latest album, has an edge. There are ample mentions of drugs and partying but nothing about it could ever be construed as cring. It’s intelligent in its interrogation of modern womanhood; yes, sometimes we’re broody, but we also don’t want to relinquish the 365 party girl lifestyle.

I’m sure the girls who are growing up on Chapell Roan’s queer pop and the Charli XCX x Lorde “girl, so confusing” make-up remix will turn out just fine. 

But there was an element of aggression in 00s pop anthems that I feel is missing from much of today’s music. Beneath the pristine, commercially-produced tunes, there was anger masquerading as a party – and all the girls were invited...

Born in 1999, I grew up on Girls Aloud, The Sugababes, and The Pussy Cat Dolls and solo icons like Katy Perry, Britney Spears, and Lily Allen. The only “Tik Tok” I knew was the hit single by K$sha. At the (highly impressionable) age of 10, I’d sing along to lyrics about one-night-stands, insane drunken escapades, and “washing my teeth with a bottle of jack.” 

I’d sit next to my mother in the car, on our way to the orthodontist, and blast The Pussycat Dolls’  “When I grow up, I wanna be famous, I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies.” Except, I always thought that last line was “I wanna have boobies” and I insisted on singing it as such. Apt, for a pre-pubescent girl. 

My friends and I regularly marvel at how we, as children, would sing whole-heartedly along to Lily Allen’s Not Fair. I was never quite sure, but had always assumed the offending “wet patch in the middle of the bed” was wee. And I was perplexed by her complaint that her partner never made her scream. Surely, that could only be a good thing? 

I recently had the pleasure of attending the Girls Aloud reunion tour with my best friend. We danced giddily to Sound of the Underground and shed tears at I’ll Stand by You, sung as a special tribute to former member Sarah Harding, who passed away from breast cancer in 2021. They transitioned between heartfelt tributes and classic club tunes seamlessly. 

Through their music I felt the past coalesce with the present, the melodies of my childhood reverberating through the realities of my adulthood. “Sexy! No no no…” in particular ran true:

“I give you nothing 'til you show me
Something, something, something
'Cause damn good loving's what I'm really
Wanting, wanting, wanting”

I’m not trying to say that these lyrics are revolutionary – it’s sort of feminism 101 to expect more than the bare minimum from men. But, like, yeah… I think we could all – regardless of the high standards we allegedly have – do with these basic reminders. And sometimes those reminders are best delivered in the form of digestible, catchy pop songs. 

“Basically, all of their songs are like ‘fuck men, I’m hot,” Emmeline observed as we made our way out of the O2 Arena. We agreed that pop music just doesn’t hit quite like that anymore, that men aren’t given as hard a time by female artists. 

Songs like “Knock ‘em Out” by Lily Allen, which is entirely about rebuffing unwanted advances from pub creeps, is one that I cherish. My high school friends and I would scream sing it at house parties and, to be honest, we hardly knew what it meant to be approached by men at the club (we lived rurally, you see). 

“Can’t knock ‘em out, you can’t walk away 
Try desperately to think of the politest way to say (Sorry, yeah, fuck no) 
Just get out my face, just leave me alone” 

Released in 2006, it would be 12 years before I’d know the sticky floors and leering men of clubs. I like to think that listening to this song on repeat throughout my adolescence may have instilled me with the kind of attitude that has me bark at men. Something about Lily Allen’s observational lyrics, mingled with the bite of a London accent, really, really appealed to me as an 8-year-old. And the same holds true now. 

All of these female artists and girl bands had such a “fuck it” attitude toward life (and men, especially). I guess they reflect the culture of the time – one where “It girls” like Paris Hilton reigned supreme, when everything was simultaneously simpler (still mostly analogue) and far more complicated (still rife with casual misogyny and the policing of women’s bodies etc). Things were maybe a little more binary. 

Certainly the opening lines to Love Machine (one of my all-time favourite songs), deliver a very ‘women v. men’ take on society:

“​​Ladies, you're damn right
You can't read a man's mind
We're living in two tribes and headed for war”

It’s fun, it’s simple and it still holds true today. I want to thank each and every 00s pop girl for saying it how it is and for unknowingly empowering my 8-year-old self towards a hornier future. Not Fair taught me to prioritise my pleasure, Katy Perry’s “Waking Up in Vegas” taught me that gambling under the influence probably isn’t a good idea and the “California Girls” music video taught me that women with whipped cream cans taped to their tits are, indeed, hot.