Queer Squad: On “Silk Chiffon” by MUNA feat. Phoebe Bridgers

1990s/2000s romantic comedies set a more innocent tone for teenage romance than the previous generation’s John Hughes legacy. Teen love in 90s/2000s rom-coms was slow and sweet, emphasized visually through cutesy trends like jelly sandals, glittery hair clips, pen pom-poms, and bubblegum pop music. Like many, I grew up on these movies and songs dreaming of football field first kisses, night drives, and Semisonic moments. I could see myself in these narratives where others couldn’t, however – like many forms of progress, LGBTQ+ representation in popular media has taken some time, and rom-coms of the 90s and early aughts still relied heavily on using being gay (or perceived as being gay) as both a punchline and an insult. Many people of my generation were influenced at an impressionable age by media where this is the case, like Friends, Can’t Hardly Wait (1998), Bring It On (2000) and – a movie so obvious that I hesitate to even mention it – I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry (2007). However, MUNA feat. Phoebe Bridger’s new single “Silk Chiffon” manages to reference some of the best parts of the 90s and early 2000s with a more empathetic 2021 lens.

The romantic guitar melody throughout the new single reminds of iconic riffs from bands like Third Eye Blind, and singles like Cindy by Tammany Hall NYC and Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer. I don’t personally know much about song production, so I’ve been scouring the internet for the language to properly describe the synth reverb at 0:27 that almost sounds like a turntable scratch being played backwards. This sound was present in just about every song from the late 90s and early aughts pop era, and creates an ethereal audio effect as though some of the tracks’s layers are being played underwater. “Silk Chiffon’s” references to the 90s and early 2000s creates an upbeat and redemptive teen romance for queer older Gen Z and millennials who grew up being alienated by pop culture.

“Silk Chiffon” music video director Ally Pankiw makes no attempt to hide a loving homage to 1999 cult classic, But I’m A Cheerleader, directed by Jamie Babbit and written by Brian Wayne Peterson. Pankiw is also credited with some of my favorite shows including Mae Martin’s Feel Good, Shrill and Schitt’s Creek – comedies featuring some of the most electric and three-dimensional LGBTQ+ characters on television. Not only do these shows and BIAC feature well-developed queer characters, but these stories foreground their perspectives and make them lead characters. Pankiw’s oeuvre establishes her as a vanguard for queer storytelling, and her evocation of what was in 1999 received as an unpopular film speaks to how our cultural tolerance has shifted for the better in 2021.

I’m by no means the first to notice that But I’m A Cheerleader (featuring queer icons RuPaul, Natasha Lyonne and Clea DuVall) shares many camp sensibilities with predecessor films by directorial legend John Waters. BIAC pays delightful tribute with bright, color-blocked sets, purposefully stiff acting, and the casting of Waters’ muse Mink Stole. This is notable as John Waters is a pioneer of camp, which has been a sustained refuge and inspiration for the LGBTQ+ community. “Silk Chiffon” is an homage to an homage, resulting in a gorgeous sort of lesbian cinema turducken.

But I’m A Cheerleader provides a hilarious, hyper-stylized vision of teenage queerness that stands out amongst other LGBTQ+ films that approach the topic with a dramatic, and often tragic, tone. “Silk Chiffon” follows BIAC in allowing audiences to find joy in LGBTQ+ identities and literally cheer for the budding romance of the leading lesbians. While BIAC is still largely considered a cult classic, (it’s free on YouTube which is great for accessibility but portends unfortunately for its chance at mainstream popularity) it’s remained an artistic stronghold for audiences who personally relate to the film’s themes. In a quote from NBC News, Elliot Page shared that the underground triumph had transformed his life, playing a pivotal role in helping him overcome his “moments of isolation, loneliness, shame and self-hatred.”

Similarly, “Silk Chiffon” isn’t a ballad about unrequited or one-sided love, but a celebration of feelings that are very much reciprocated. Katie Gavin of MUNA sings excitedly and purposefully about an unnamed “she,” rather than timidly hinting at feelings for a person of ambiguous gender. “Silk Chiffon” not only echoes BIAC in style and emotional atmosphere, but also in its elevation of queer performers – BIAC cast RuPaul in 1999 when he was only just coming into stardom, and now in 2021 “Silk Chiffon” features comedian Caleb Hearon who has been picking up speed from his growing internet fame. 

The recent comments of DaBaby (which, to the credit of multiple venues, he has taken a hit for) are only a small example of the work that still needs to be done. The mainstream exposure of LGBTQ+ characters, created by LGBTQ+ writers, is fairly recent. Even more recent is the normalization of LGBTQ+ representation in shows geared toward younger audiences like Adventure Time and Steven Universe. The fear of exposing younger audiences to LGBTQ+ romance not only undermines childrens’ capacity for empathy, but conveys that those identities and relationships are inherently lewd or inappropriate. That lack of varied representation is hypocritically contrasted against adolescent’s characters with heterosexual romances.

I’m of course cynical about how music and film industries reward certain movements, and I can’t help but wonder if the current support for LGBTQ+ representation predicts a positive upward trend, or if it’s a transient progressive swing in which people’s identities and general humanity are simply deemed currently profitable. Is it a coincidence that “Silk Chiffon “was released shortly after a documentary about gay conversion camps began streaming on Netflix? Maybe! However, I hope for the former of the two scenarios, and that greater influence from historically oppressed creators is an indication that the power behind creative industries is becoming more individualised and democratic.

Ally Pankiw, MUNA and Phoebe Bridgers bring an underground gem into the mainstream, and nothing can take away from the bright impact that they’ve left amongst a long history of notable LGBTQ+ work. In honoring But I’m A Cheerleader and Y2K pop techniques, these women reach through time and recreate an innocent era in which queer folk of the 90s and 2000s can achieve a sense of the wholesome teenage dream surrounding one’s first love.