I spent $200 at Sephora last month and I still don’t look like the girl in the Instagram ad. Wild, right? Bought the serum, the toner, the fucking $68 highlighter that promised “glazed donut glow” and somehow I just look tired with better pores. Meanwhile my feed is full of women who look airbrushed in real life, and I’m over here wondering if there’s a factory I missed the memo on where everyone else got assembled correctly. GUMDROP gets it. ‘Eye Candy’ showed up on my playlist while I was doing my third skincare routine of the day and suddenly I’m laughing because this song knows exactly how exhausting it is to be the snack everyone wants to unwrap.
Look, we need to talk about the opening line. “ I can be, eye candy / I want to be her, i want to be she ” and fuck if that doesn’t land. We’ve all wanted to be “her.” That girl who looks effortless in a crop top. The one who gets the right kind of attention. GUMDROP calls it out with this bouncy 80s synth-pop energy that feels like candy-coated chaos, all bright and shiny on the surface while the lyrics are screaming about the absolute mindfuck of trying to mold yourself into what gets rewarded.
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Then comes “ Yummy gummy / Upset my tummy / You stick to my teeth / Make me feel crummy. ” Here’s where the sweetness starts tasting wrong. That whole verse is basically what happens when you realize being desirable is making you sick. The cutesy language hides how goddamn brutal it feels when you’ve spent so much energy being palatable and someone still treats you like you’re disposable. “ Saccharine sweet / You used to treat / Me oh so chummy / Now you’re bummy ” hits different when you realize she’s talking about the shift from being wanted to being used.
GUMDROP’s sound sits somewhere between glitchy hyperpop and melodic darkwave, which makes sense because this duo knows how to package rage in glitter. Buttons’ vocals flip between distorted bubblegum pop and actual fury, while Shmu’s production is kaleidoscopic and weird in the best way. The result sounds like if an 80s aerobics video had an existential crisis and everyone started bouncing off the walls on a goddamn sugar rush with Olivia Newton-John’s ‘Physical’ rattling the speakers.
The bridge goes full fever dream with “ Replace my eyes / With gumdrop skies / Switch out my lips / For cherry tips. ” Send me back to the factory where they make me perfect. Where my body is made of desserts and candy store fantasies. “ There’s sugar in between my hips / Fill honey in between the dips ” turns sexuality into something manufactured, edible, built to specification. She wants to be stitched together like “ apple pie / Cupcake tidies ” because maybe if she’s sweet enough, decorated enough, assembled correctly enough, she’ll finally be what everyone wants.
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Except that’s the trap. “ Butterscotch n berry thigh / So sweet you want to have a try ” knows you’re being consumed. Tasted. Sampled. The song wraps this critique in bouncy synths and playful wordplay because that’s exactly how capitalism sells femininity back to us – makes the performance look fun, makes wanting to be wanted feel like empowerment instead of exhaustion.
Look, there’s nothing wrong with being eye candy. Hell, I work for it. The difference is doing it because it makes you feel powerful, because you want to look in the mirror and go “damn.” That’s when you weaponize it. When it’s for you first and everyone else is just lucky to be in the room. GUMDROP’s track hits because it knows the line between performing for yourself and performing for survival gets blurry as fuck sometimes.
I went back to Sephora yesterday. Returned the highlighter. Still looked tired, still looked human, and somehow that felt like the actual rebellion. GUMDROP made a song that sounds like a sugar rush but leaves you thinking about the crash. Sticky, sweet, and sharp as hell.
