I Just Learned That The Chords To The Song “Pete Davidson” Spell Out “BAE” And Now I Need Answers

So I’m guessing that if you clicked on this article, you’re familiar with the estranged pairing previously known as Petiana Grandson.


And you probs also know about track 14 on Ariana’s album Sweetener, “Pete Davidson.”

Republic Records, Spotify

Well, today as I was scrolling through Twitter, I ~happened upon~ a tweet that made my music nerd self HYPE 👏 THE 👏 F*CK 👏 UP. 👏

I was looking up Ariana Grande guitar chords (I don’t have a guitar) and discovered the chords to “Pete Davidson” are just BAE over and over and I can’t believe I just wrote the Da Vinci Code

Basically, this Twitter user saw that the song’s chord progression spelled out “BAE” over and over again. 👀👀👀

Yup, like “bae” as in “before anyone else,” “baby,” “babe,” and “poop” in Danish.

Safe to say, I was in music theory awe. Did Ari really just do THAT?!

Republic Records

Obviously, I decided it was time to put my music education to good use — I pulled up a virtual piano and CHECKED THOSE FACTS!!!!!!!

And sure enough, when I played the chords B, A, and E along with the track, it worked!!!!!!!

Music Choice

(This means that different versions of the chord progression are either raised or lowered from the original key that Ariana sings it in.)

So, Ariana — did you make the “Pete Davidson” chord progresh B, A, E on PURPOSE?! And if so, what other secret musical messages must we decode?!?!?!?!

*in the Kansas/Arkansas Vine voice*

14 Reasons Why Janelle Monáe Won 2018

So, here are all the reasons why Janelle Monáe came and slayed the year that is 2018.


“Make Me Feel” became Janelle Monáe’s second single to chart on the Billboard Hot 100.


THEN, after teasing us with those melodic tunes, Janelle released Dirty Computer, the album and the ~emotion picture.~


Dirty Computer peaked at number six on the Billboard 200 list. As for the emotion picture, neither I, nor the world, was ready for that cinematic masterpiece.


She also shook the internet with her REVOLUTIONARY music video for “Pynk.” I live for a feminist queen.


Like, I’m still shaking several months later.


In an interview with Rolling Stone – of which she graced the cover – she came out as pansexual.

Rolling Stone

“Being a queer black woman in America—someone who has been in relationships with both men and women—I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker.”


Speaking of magazine covers, she also graced the cover of W Magazine back in February…

W Magazine

The cover photo and photo shoot were directed by none other than Jordan Peele, in a series called “Noir Town.” The photo series stars Monáe as Alfred Hitchcock and, honey, I am here fot it.


…as well as Fast Company and Allure.

Fast Company, Allure


Oh yeah, and she was also named one of Glamour’s “Women of the Year.” NBD.



Earlier this month, Time magazine named Dirty Computer one of the ten best albums of the year.

Music Choice

It ranked number two!!!


Janelle Monáe is set to star in Welcome to Marwen, a much-anticipated Oscar hopeful, releasing in December 2018.



On the topic of movies, Universal Pictures signed a first look deal with Janelle Monáe’s production company, Wondaland Productions.


The article states; “Wondaland and Universal Pictures will develop multi-genre content with an emphasis on championing underrepresented voices and groundbreaking perspectives.” To which I say, BRING US THE CONTENT.


She also headlined AfroPunk Brooklyn this year, alongside Erykah Badu, The Internet, and other legends.



Let’s not forget about A Revolution of Love, a YouTube Music artist spotlight story which gave us Janelle fans an inside look into her beautiful mind.


Like, I could listen to this woman talk for HOURS. It’s a pity this piece of art is only 16 minutes.


Oh, and to top it all off, Janelle Monáe will be receiving the Trailblazer of the Year Award at the 2018 Billboard Women in Music event.




Leon Bennett / Getty Images, Neilson Barnard / Getty Images, Kevin Winter / Getty Images, Jamie Mccarthy / Getty Images

So, shout out to YOU Janelle Monáe. You won 2018. Can’t wait to see what you have in store for us next year <3

Like Everyone Else In The Aughts, I Loved Norah Jones

The year was 2002. George W. Bush was president. Trucker hats were a thing. My family had just moved to Rhode Island from England. I was an evangelical Christian who journaled semi-regularly.

We went to the library every week to borrow CDs and DVDs that would eventually ruin our all-in-one TV/DVD player. One day on a whim, I checked out Come Away With Me by Norah Jones. I liked jazz and it was in the jazz section. I was intrigued by the album cover of a pretty woman looking away from the camera, cascades of long black hair framing her face. She was beautiful in a manner that did not seem contrived or calculated and I wanted to look like that.

When I got home, I took the portable CD player to the room I shared with my sister and pressed play.

“I waited till I saw the sun / I don’t know why I didn’t come,” sang a woman, in a voice tinged with melancholy. The voice resonated with me immediately. It was sweet and lilting, a little breathy but not in an annoying way. I listened to the album in one sitting and then played it again. I read the liner notes so I could sing along in my own approximation of Jones’ soothing voice. I relished the feeling of vague discontent the album seemed to summon within me, even though I didn’t really understand what she was singing about (What was the “house of fun?” Who was this hazy, undefined “you” she wanted to paint?). I was 11 years old and having a hard time adjusting to the particularities of the American middle school ecosystem. With the hubris of misunderstood preteens everywhere, I felt utterly unique in my love for Norah Jones.

But I was not alone. 2002 was a banner year for Jones, who transformed from an unknown 22-year-old college dropout into the media-dubbed savior of adult contemporary music. With little radio play, Come Away With Me eventually went double platinum. (That the album was released on the venerable but relatively obscure jazz label Blue Note Records made her album sales all the more remarkable.) Jones won eight Grammys, including Album of the Year and Record of the Year for “Don’t Know Why.” The New York Times compared her to Sarah Vaughan and Aretha Franklin. By 2007, she had sold more albums than any other female singer of the decade.

In a Times profile of Jones that came out just a week after Come Away With Me dropped, she talked about how “she thought she would have to move out of her $1,000-a-month apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, for a cheaper place,” convinced that the album wouldn’t be a big hit. Though she was clearly, evidently ambitious — she attended Booker T. Washington High School, the Dallas performing arts school that counts Erykah Badu and the late jazz trumpeter Roy Hargrove among its graduates, went to the highly selective Interlochen Center for the Arts summer camp, and got into the University of North Texas’s jazz program — she never wanted to be famous.

Referred to by one critic as the “white Cassandra Wilson,” Jones was the most successful of that flock of women singer-songwriters the early aughts churned out in dutiful measure, from Vanessa Carlton to Michelle Branch. And yet, critical reaction to her music was mixed. Reviewers said she relied too much on covers; her songs were too slow, she didn’t take risks. She was music for the Starbucks generation — “Snorah Jones.” But how could they deny her impact!

In the lead-up to the release of her second album, 2004’s Feels Like Home, journalists spoke of the “Norah Jones” effect: “If you’re a talented singer, a bit jazzy, a bit soulful, and mindful of tradition, then you’re in Norah’s shadow, like it or not,” wrote the Guardian, after mentioning three promising Norah Jones acolytes: “Jamie Cullum, Amy Winehouse and Katie Melua.” (Amy Winehouse! In Norah Jones’ shadow!)

But despite all the acclaim, or perhaps because of it, Jones was self-effacing to a fault. A video of her awkward 2003 Grammy acceptance for Best New Artist is quite the time warp; note Alicia Keys doing the most with Cyndi Lauper behind her while a nervous Jones alternates between shouting and whispering her gratitude in a manner that rivals Office-style cringeyness. She hated doing press. She was visibly uncomfortable during live performances.

She notoriously compared sweeping the Grammys to feeling like she “went to someone else’s birthday party and ate all their cake.” She shut down any questions about her famous father, the Indian sitarist Ravi Shankar, from whom she was mostly estranged. (When he died in 2012, Jones’ public statement was brief: “My dad’s music touched millions of people. He will be greatly missed by me and music lovers everywhere.”)

But her public reticence only endeared her to me further. In fact, I listened to her sophomore effort, Feels Like Home, probably even more than Come Away With Me (“Don’t Miss You at All” and “Carnival Town” were my jams). There was something noble-seeming about her ability to have achieved all that fame while also keeping it at arm’s length. I was someone desperate for attention — from my more popular classmates, from boys, from the world. And here was Norah, rejecting those impulses outright. I envied that level of power and control. But of course, such stratospheric fame never lasts.

In the 16 years since her debut dropped, Jones has yet to come close to the level of success or cultural ubiquity she had from 2002 to 2007. Occasionally, throughout the years, she’ll show up in random places: singing the hook to a Q-Tip song, cameoing in Ted as one of the bear’s sexual conquests, duetting with Willie Nelson. She’ll bubble up in the press only to promote her albums. (Her most recent one came out in 2016, and some of her other more recent albums are good, people have told me. I wouldn’t know. I have not listened to them.) She lives in an undisclosed city with her undisclosed partner and son and daughter.

I don’t begrudge her likely sanity-saving retreat from the public eye. In time, I moved on to other women singer-songwriters — Regina Spektor, Lauryn Hill, India Arie (another essay for another time!) and criminally late, Joni Mitchell. But whenever I stumble upon a Norah Jones song, yes, in a coffee shop or at a mall, I remember those feelings of wistful melancholy, those awkward attempts to figure out what I liked and who I was as a young person. And the answer is: somebody who isn’t as uniquely special as she thinks she is. And I’m thankful for it. ●