So here’s the thing about wanting someone who won’t give in: it’s fucking torture. You’ve been circling, dropping hints, making it clear you’re interested, and they just keep playing it cool. Acting like they don’t see what you’re doing. Molly Devine’s “Yes” lives in that exact moment—the one where someone you’ve been chasing finally stops resisting and admits they want you too. And fuck, does she capture that slow-burn ache of trying to seduce someone who won’t break.
Listen, I spend 90% of my life building boundaries, and then there’s that one person I want to absolutely wreck—and suddenly I’m the one doing the chasing. Molly gets it. She opens with “You keep playin’ it so cool / Got me thinkin’ bout you / And what I wanna do” and already we’re in that headspace where he’s playing hard to get and you’re losing your mind trying to get him to crack. But desire? Desire is louder and doesn’t give a shit about your god or how you were raised or his cool guy act.
She’s been working on him. “Tonight I wanna ask you round / But I am way too proud / Could never say it out loud.” There it is. She wants to invite him over—wants to make her move explicit—but even while pursuing him, there’s that edge of pride. What if she asks directly and he still says no? The chemistry has been crackling, she’s been dropping hints, but he’s holding out. Except here’s what this song understands: sometimes wearing someone down until they surrender is the kink. That slow build where you keep working on him until he finally admits he wants you to fuck him up.
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The whole thing plays out in her head first. “I’m thinking about what you and I could do / If you wanted to / But you’re leaving me here with these words in my mouth I wish that I / Could say it all out loud, I’d say.” She knows exactly what she wants to do to him—her hands, her mouth, the way he’d look at her if he stopped pretending he’s unbothered—but she can’t quite close the deal. She’s imagining it while he’s right there playing it cool, and the frustration of wanting someone who won’t give in is fucking maddening.
The Hammond organ underneath is doing unholy fucking things. Stephen Small’s playing swells and bends, patient and filthy at the same time. Greg Haver’s production knows exactly how to tease—building so slowly you’re practically begging for release. Every note feels like breath catching, like the moment right before someone finally breaks.
Then the chorus hits and Molly gets what she wants. “Yes yes yes to your skin on me / Yes yes yes to your hands in my hair / Yes to thinking this out loud with you / What you wanna do.” This is his yes. His surrender. When the obvious chemistry finally cracks him, “yes” stops sounding like permission and more like victory. The track is called “Yes,” but the way this builds to full release? Hell yes. The vibe might leave you screaming Yes! Yes! YES! when you finally get him exactly where you want him—coming undone while you’re riding him. The hottest power move is making someone want you so badly they can’t play it cool anymore.
The way her voice opens up here, raw and wanting, makes every second of the chase worth it. This is grown-up seduction. The kind where you’ve been patient, you’ve been strategic, and when he finally gives in? You take everything you’ve been waiting for.
Then we get to the verse that guts you. “I ain’t heard from you for days / I say that I’m OK / But I’m thinkin’ bout how / Are you thinkin’ of me too.” Fuck, this verse. That specific torture of him going quiet after you’ve been putting in work. You tell your friends you’re fine while secretly wondering if he’s thinking about you the same way you can’t stop thinking about him, or if you’re just wasting your time on someone who’s not interested. (Then you check yourself in the mirror and ask, ‘fuck, how can he NOT be interested?)
She nails it when she sings “Cause when I’m around you / It’s like you and I are fighting something / It’s like you and I are waiting for the call to say.” Yes. That’s the tension. The pull between you is undeniable but he keeps resisting, keeps playing it cool. You’re both dancing around what’s inevitable, letting it simmer because part of the game is the chase. There’s this delicious high in finally breaking through someone’s defenses—no games, no armor, just getting him to finally admit he wants you just as badly
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The build in this track is fucking masterful. It mirrors exactly what it’s describing—that slow climb from pursuit to conquest. The ad-libs toward the end feel unguarded, spontaneous. Molly tracked them with her confused collie sitting beside her in the studio, which is such a perfectly human detail. This whole song feels like stripping down. It’s the messy, honest moment when you say ‘screw the chase, give me the kind of friction that leaves bruises and zero regrets.’
Because here’s the truth: being the aggressor doesn’t make you a slut or whore or whatever label society gives a passionate woman. It means you knew what you wanted and you went after it. I talk a big game about patience and control, but if the chemistry is right, I’m absolutely relentless and he’s folding like a lawn chair. Exactly as planned. There’s nothing wrong with pursuing someone until they finally admit they want you just as badly.
Molly Devine just gave you permission to be a bad bitch and totally break a boy, to pursue your pleasure like a grown woman. The soul-pop build, the blues-leaning restraint, that goddamn wailing organ—everything here understands that patience and scheming make the payoff hotter.
So when you’ve been circling someone like an apex predator, when the tension has been building, when their resistance is the only thing standing between you and what you actually want—fuck it. Keep going. Make your move. Get them to finally admit they want you. This is what it sounds like when someone finally stops playing hard to get and gives you that yes you’ve been chasing. That’s the hottest fucking thing Molly could’ve given us.
