In March of 2020, Billie Eilish began incorporating a short film titled “Not My Responsibility” into her concerts. The shadowy four-minute clip shows Eilish slowly taking off her clothing and submerging into a slick pool of black goop, soundtracked by a spoken-word monologue about the body-shaming she faced as the most visible teenage girl on the planet. Since the release of her offbeat, gothy, Grammy-sweeping debut When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? one year prior, Eilish had become the media’s new favorite specimen to dissect. Specifically, her body, which Eilish often concealed beneath loud, oversized outfits. Some members of the peanut gallery applauded what they saw as a feminist refusal to be sexualized, a “body positivity” narrative that often bordered on slut-shaming women who choose to dress differently. All Eilish could do was try her best not to let it get to her. “So while I feel your stares, your disapproval or your sigh of relief,” she murmurs on “Not My Responsibility,” “If I lived by them, I’d never be able to move.”
The clip was an imperial mic drop. Unfortunately, “Not My Responsibility” played at only three concerts before the coronavirus outbreak canceled her tour and sent Eilish back home to Los Angeles. Eilish and Finneas—her brother, producer, and co-writer—hadn’t planned to make a record during quarantine. But their mother encouraged them to establish a casual writing routine at Finneas’ home studio—a nice upgrade from their previous workspace, Finneas’ childhood bedroom—and the songs that form Eilish’s second album, Happier Than Ever, naturally started taking shape.
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