I have a very specific type and it has gotten me into a frankly embarrassing amount of trouble, and I mean that in the most self-aware, what the hell is wrong with me way possible. Unavailable, complicated, the kind of person who looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room and then disappears for three days without explanation. I’ve had the “this is bad for me” conversation with myself in the mirror like that does anything and I’ve deleted their number twice and then found it in my recently deleted like some kind of cruel joke. Codi Dillon’s ‘Want What I Can’t’ is the soundtrack to every single one of those moments, and the fact that it fucking slaps while dismantling my entire attachment style is something I’m choosing to find funny.
‘Want What I Can’t’ is the dark-pop sound of knowing something is bad for you and reaching for it anyway because apparently that’s just who we are. Electric guitars and tension-soaked production build the kind of pressure that feels physical like the whole track is holding its breath waiting for you to do the stupid thing. Codi goes fully confessional here – raw and unflinching over a chorus that hits hard enough to rattle something loose in your chest and the alternative pop and guitar-forward edge gives the whole thing this delicious, slightly dangerous energy. It’s the song for the moment right before you fuck up on purpose and you know it and you’re doing it anyway.
Advertisement
The opening is so specific it’s almost uncomfortable. “I keep you at arms distance / But if you want it, I’d let you in / Say that you don’t want something serious / When it’s getting pretty serious.” The self-awareness is fully intact and completely useless which is honestly the most relatable shit Codi could have written. They know the distance is performative. They know “not serious” is a lie both of them are telling. They’re doing it anyway because apparently knowing better and doing better are two completely different skill sets that do not come as a package deal.
Then we get the line. The line that is going to live in my head rent-free and I am not even a little mad about it. “No one forced you into my bed / But you keep finding yourself in it.” The audacity of that delivery. The casual almost bored acknowledgment that this keeps happening and there’s no coercion here and he is a fully autonomous person who keeps making the same choice and then acting confused about it. Codi is not pointing a finger, they’re just stating facts, and somehow that’s so much more fucking devastating than an accusation would be. The follow-up kills me every time: “I go slow cause I’ve got good intentions / Why do I end up being the fool.” Good intentions are genuinely doing nothing for them here and they know it. The fool thing stings because it’s true and they already know it’s true and they’re going slow anyway.
Codi does something kind of brilliant in the chorus. “Gonna Want What I Can’t have / Your want is to lose me / Scared of love, then turn around / Just wish you would come n’ see me.” Codi isn’t just saying they want him. They’re saying his whole thing IS losing them, that the losing is the point for him, that they have accurately diagnosed this entire situation and are still standing in it hoping he’ll surprise them. That is a very specific kind of hell that a lot of us have paid very good money in therapy to unpack, and Codi put it in a chorus. Respect.
Verse two is where it gets genuinely hard to listen to, and Codi earns every second of that. “You don’t kiss me like you used to / And yeah, I notice it.” Six words and a comma. That’s all it takes to describe the exact moment you realize something has already ended and nobody’s said it out loud yet. Then: “With all the time that you say that you don’t have / You spend it to distract yourself.” He has time. He’s just not spending it on Codi, and they’ve clocked it, and they’re still there, and goddamn that’s a painful thing to put into words that cleanly. The outro is where the whole thing unravels in real time: “Wanna make the most of outta / You and me now / Gettin’ too real / I know you will / Get scared and leave.” They’ve already written the ending. They’re singing it directly to him and staying anyway, which is either the most human thing or the most chaotic thing depending on what kind of week you’re having.
Advertisement
Codi Dillon is the queer pop artist your playlist has been missing and your body already knows it. Since 2016 Codi has been building a sound that lives somewhere between a 3am cry session and a sweaty club at peak hour – dark pop and electronic DNA wrapped in dance energy that makes the emotional stuff feel like a goddamn release instead of a breakdown. Their latest project, Chrome Heart, is where futuristic production meets raw unfiltered feeling and honestly? The nerve of this person to make something this bold and this beautiful at the same time is kind of insane. Codi writes about self-love, heartbreak, and the kind of personal resilience that comes from actually going through shit and deciding to dance about it anyway and you can feel every bit of that in the music. Unapologetic, ever-evolving, and built for people who want their feelings loud and their bass louder.
Their number is still in my phone. I stopped pretending it isn’t. Codi didn’t write ‘Want What I Can’t’ to talk me out of anything, and that’s exactly why it works. Some songs try to save you from yourself. This one just turns the lights up on the mess you’re already standing in and hands you a drink.
