“Negging,” as I’m sure we all know by now, is the practice of using backhanded compliments to lower someone’s self-esteem and make them more susceptible to manipulation. It’s usually used in the context of “pick-up artistry” by men desperate to pick up women, where they might say something like “the trashy look really works for you” or “has anyone ever told you you’d be cuter as a brunette?” It’s weird, grotesque stuff.
The person who popularized the term, a pick-up artist named Erik von Markovik (because of course he would be named Erik von Markovik), stressed that the purpose of negging wasn’t to degrade women but to intrigue them by flouting social conventions. Other pick-up artists claim that it’s a way to make clear that they’re not interested in a long-term relationship. But that’s not necessarily better: it’s still treating women like a puzzle to be solved rather than a human being to converse with.
“Negging,” a new song by the musical duo veronicavon, is something of a puzzle itself, not least because it doesn’t seem to have anything to do with negging. At first glance, it seems to be a delicate, sensual song of desire, if a bit fragmented. The production features moody, somewhat lonely-sounding synth patterns, mixed with singer Xuan Nguyen’s wordless vocalizations: “eeeee-aaaah, eeeee-aaaah.” When the vocals begin, they’re light and feathery, but plaintive with yearning: “Where you at?/Take me in/Glitter on your cheek.” It all sounds as if Halfaxa-era Grimes was 75% more horny.
Nothing in the lyrics directly suggest that the song’s narrator is negging somebody, or that somebody is negging the narrator. There’s nobody here to tell Nguyen that she should smile more, or any of the other familiar tropes of pick-up artists. But there’s an odd subtext running through the lyrics that, combined with the fragility of the music, points to a different kind of manipulation. “We’re physical, animal, casual beings,” Nguyen sings. “Invisible, minimal, breakable things.” If she’s negging somebody, she’s doing so by negging the entire human race: we’re all a bunch of weak, carnal, insignificant creatures, so why not make the most of our bodies while they still function? It’s jarring, unnerving, and oddly convincing.
It’s unclear if that’s the intended subtext, and if you’d prefer a straightforward lovemaking jam, Nguyen’s vocals and Chris Hackman’s delicate production have you covered. But even if it wasn’t intentional, it still makes “Negging” a strange, compelling song. It’s a tantalizing puzzle to solve, and if it doesn’t seem terribly interested in being solved, that’s only because it knows how suggestive and enticing a mystery can be.
