With a handful of songs under her belt, Billie had already proved she was an incredibly versatile songwriter. She had written from her imagination, from deep within her own soul, and now from real-life experience. Those who knew Billie had a pretty good idea who she was writing about in “my boy” and made sure he heard it. Her friends told how he’d listened to it with his hood up and the strings pulled tight, hiding his face. Maybe it was a cruel exposé of a teenage romance gone wrong, but as least he’d inspired a pretty cool song.
She had written from her imagination, from deep within her own soul, and now from real-life experience.
For now, none of the tracks were bothering the mainstream charts, but Billie was building a healthy following. Over two hundred thousand fans were following her on Instagram, and “ocean eyes” had amassed more than fifteen million streams on Spotify and had featured on the soundtrack to the YA movie Everything, Everything. She was in demand for interviews, had begun to be recognized in the street, and was soon to embark on a sold-out headlining tour across the country. But first, there was the small matter of launching her debut EP.
For a fifteen-year-old, Billie had secured a degree of creative control unprecedented in the music industry. She had come up with the title, dont smile at me; the sometimes-unconventional song titles; the track listing and order (which were decided upon in a series of texts to Finneas in the early hours of the morning); and the cover image for the EP. She had gone to the label asking to pose with a red stepladder against a yellow background while dressed in all in red “with a million chains.” Miraculously, the label had agreed. Variations of the stunning image with Billie hanging from the top of the ladder or sitting sulkily underneath would accompany interviews and tour promotions and even Billie’s own merchandise over the next six months.
The title gave Billie a concept on which to hang her image. She was, and intended to be, nobody’s plaything. It was a provocative and assertive title and one that she was more than happy to riff upon. Those who had followed Billie over the last year had, of course, seen her smile in photographs and in interviews. She had a great sense of humor and clearly liked to laugh, but here she was reacting to the pressure she felt to smile (and to make music that wasn’t sad and depressing) when perhaps she didn’t feel like it. “I hate smiling,” she said on numerous occasions. “It makes me feel weak and powerless and small.” She said how she resented having to smile back at people who smile at her in the street and, for the first time, claimed to have “a resting bitch face” that looked sad all of the time.
She was, and intended to be, nobody’s plaything.
However, she seemed pretty happy at the launch party for the EP at—where else?—the Hi Hat, her local club. Friends and fans dressed in either red or yellow (later, during “COPYCAT,” Billie tried to separate them and make them mimic one another’s dancing); and there was free candy and a photo booth where they could pose on the now-iconic red ladder. Billie, in a padded orange gilet, and Finneas, looking supercool in a T-shirt reading “Too young to go to jail” around the collar (he was still only twenty!), proceeded to play the short set of tracks from the EP. The packed audience lapped it up, and Billie was in her element, even naming the subject of “my boy,” Henry, who was there in the crowd.
Dont smile at me was released on August 11, 2017. It contained eight tracks: the recent run of four singles along with “ocean eyes,” “bellyache,” and two previously unrecorded tracks that had formed part of her live set list. The first of these was “party favor”—a real live favorite. In contrast to the brooding, synth-dominated sound of the rest of the EP, this is a happy singsong with Billie playing ukulele to a clickety-clack backbeat. All this saccharine sweetness is naturally undercut by the ruthless Billie dumping her beau on his birthday in a voice message. You can call back, she suggests, but I’ll have probably blocked you by then. Savage or what? The other new track, “hostage,” a love song, completes the EP. Billie sings the ballad-style track in a calm, tender voice, and although there is no vicious side, there is still a dark undercurrent, from the refrain about crawling inside the boy’s veins to the whole hostage metaphor of restraining someone against their will. If we didn’t know already that Billie couldn’t—or wouldn’t—write an ordinary song, we did now.
You can call back, she suggests, but I’ll have probably blocked you by then.
And so an era that had begun with a bedroom- composed song on SoundCloud came to an end over eighteen months later with eight bedroom-composed songs on an album released by an international record company. The songs on the EP varied in style and subject, but were distinctive and recognizable as Billie Eilish songs. They often touched upon dark aspects and, although mature in composition, didn’t try to hide a teenage sentimentality. Billie admitted, partly in jest, that she never wrote songs about how much she loved someone—only songs that said “I hate you” or “You make me hate me.” It would be another twelve months before Billie’s profile rose high enough to land dont smile at me a chart position, but for now there was a strong and growing base following, not only in the US but in the UK, Canada, New Zealand, and Australia.
While a few used the “gloom pop” tag to criticize the tracks as too downbeat, many more noted the diversity both in lyrics and in style.
Those reviewing the EP were unanimous in their appreciation of the witty, crafted lyrics, of Billie’s vocal range and adaptability, and her effortless harmonizing with Finneas. While a few used the “gloom pop” tag to criticize the tracks as too downbeat, many more noted the diversity both in lyrics and in style. Overwhelmingly, the reaction was one of awe at the talent displayed by a fifteen-year-old songwriter and performer. They saw in Billie a raw talent that was only going to get better.
Chapter Six
On the Road
When is a star not a star? Back in August 2017, Billie Eilish didn’t consider herself a star.
She was a pretty grounded, normal teenager with best friends, crushes, mood swings, and a love of TV and music, especially music—any conversation would be littered with references to popular and obscure artists. She had a whole bunch of opinions and wasn’t afraid to give them, and treated any “fans” like personal friends, engaging with them on Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook. It’s a state of affairs she would have been happy to continue, but Billie also loved to perform and wanted her songs to be heard by as many people as possible. After the release of the EP, it was clear she would be a star and her life would change—but, amid the glamor, lights, and screaming crowds, the old Highland Park Billie would never be hard to spot . . .
That month, as the EP made her more and more fans, Billie livestreamed from the house on Instagram. Unrehearsed and beautifully raw, she sang accompanied only by her own guitar, ukulele, or piano. She played covers of a number of songs, including “The Hill” originally recorded by Czech singer-songwriter Markéta Irglová, “Jealous” by British singer Labrinth, and “Dancing on My Own” by the Swedish artist Robyn. She even sang in Spanish with a version of the 1970s worldwide hit “Eres Tú.” These performances showed Billie’s ability to not only interpret other artists’ songs but also to own them with an emotionally charged vocal.
These performances showed Billie’s ability to not only interpret other artists’ songs but also to own them with an emotionally charged vocal.
In the comfort of her home, we were able to see the unguarded Billie. In one long and rambling livestream, she just answered fans’ questions as they came through and talked a little about her life. She was so open, talking about boys and her relationships, recognizing names of friends who sent messages, and marveling at how she had such support from as far afield as Brazil and Mexico. Sometimes, however, the black clouds that she later said would descend in her life in this period became apparent and the “I’m so sad” she utters at the end of one stream is completely heartbreaking.
The livestream also included her previously unheard songs that she had written. One, which featured
her singing to a ukulele, fans would call “see-through.” A beautiful ballad of the difficulties and pain experienced in a broken relationship, it would finally appear two years later in its studio version as the song “8” on the When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? album. At that point, Billie explained that the song was written from the perspective of someone she had hurt rather than from personal heartbreak.
Another livestream song, which came to be known as “limbo” or “7 DAYS,” has still to be recorded, but that hasn’t stopped fans uploading self-made videos for the track to YouTube or cover versions to SoundCloud. It features Billie at the piano with the most delicate of vocals. Telling the story of a relationship that has run its course with the lyric, “We’re broken glass waiting to be washed away,” Billie plucks at the heartstrings. Why it has never been released remains a mystery, and fans live in hope that a studio version will one day appear.
“Limbo” was initially on the set list for Billie’s short visit to the Southern Hemisphere soon after the release of the EP. Fans from Australia and New Zealand had been among the most enthusiastic of her initial overseas devotees, and they were rewarded with the full set of songs from dont smile at me. To Billie’s apparent amazement, the sellout shows in Auckland in New Zealand, and Sydney and Melbourne in Australia, saw fans singing every lyric—even to “limbo.” Finneas was now getting his own moment in the spotlight. Midshow, Billie walked to the side of the stage and announced her brother was going to sing a song. It was her idea, and she knew her fans would be receptive. Finneas sang his own single “I’m in Love without You,” and of course, the audience loved it.
To Billie’s apparent amazement, the sellout shows in Auckland in New Zealand, and Sydney and Melbourne in Australia, saw fans singing every lyric—even to “limbo.”
There was one more new treat added to the set list for the tour Down Under. Early in the shows, as Billie picked up her ukulele, the crowd cheered in expectation of “party favor.” Instead, she headed straight into a pared-down version of “Hotline Bling,” replacing Drake’s low burr with her sometimes rasping and sometimes sweet-as-pie falsetto (when the audience sing-alongs inevitably began, many had trouble with those high notes!). It would soon become a live favorite.
Billie’s performances were improving with every show. She’d managed to transfer her true character to her stage persona with all the energy, the don’t-give-a-damn attitude, the passion for her music, and the love of the fans on display. It wasn’t an act; it was for real. The audiences recognized she was being herself, whether she was singing, dancing, or chatting between songs. “I just try to be as hype as I can on stage and have a lot of fun,” she told the NZ Herald. “My goal is to get people moshing in the crowd one day. My music isn’t there yet and people aren’t there yet, but I love moshing . . . I don’t want anybody to not move in the crowd.”
Back in the US, Billie had two weeks to wait until setting off on her North American tour. It would be a period in which her profile soared higher and higher. Within days a new video had dropped for “watch.” It was her slickest and biggest-budget video yet. Although directed by Megan Park, much of it derives from Billie’s imagination. In a dark space, a group of women (dressed in baggy, colorful sportswear as if they had plundered Billie’s wardrobe) lie on four orange Dodge Challengers (Billie’s favorite car and color). When Billie enters and climbs the now-familiar red stepladder in the center of the space, the music stops, and in an uncomfortable silence the women tie Billie to the ladder and pour fuel around the base.
It was her slickest and biggest-budget video yet. Although directed by Megan Park, much of it derives from Billie’s imagination.
Billie’s vision ended there. She explained that it was too short, and Megan Park added the interspersed scenes of Billie dressed in comfy white clothes in a bedroom. This symbolized the new Billie, now free of her hurt and heartbroken self. Intense, thought-provoking, and visually stunning, the video was another creative expression from an artist who was continuing to surprise everyone.
Fans were still digesting this when Apple announced Billie as its latest Up Next artist. The Up Next campaign aimed to support rising acts by using “all of its resources to give their music visibility to new audiences.” Billie was following in the footsteps of her friend Khalid, the previous Up Next pick, who had profited greatly from the spotlight. Up Next meant a glossily shot documentary that combined archive footage from her childhood and comments from her parents with footage of her and Finneas rehearsing at home, and an interview with Billie. Alongside it the pair released three live tracks—“bellyache,” “watch,” and “ocean eyes”—with videos of the performance fabulously shot in high definition in a room looking out on to the LA night skyline.
Perhaps the best thing about being an Apple Up Next artist was that Billie got to sing on The Late Late Show with James Corden. Introduced by Zane Lowe, she confidently strode out, dressed in a yellow turtleneck sweater, oversized jacket, and pants with her silver hair tied back. Finneas hung back in the shadows playing keyboards as she delivered “ocean eyes” sitting and kneeling on a yellow-framed light box. It was an assured performance that went out to a million viewers.
She confidently strode out, dressed in a yellow turtleneck sweater, oversized jacket, and pants with her silver hair tied back.
The stage was set for Billie’s first-ever headline tour, involving a string of dates across the country and into Canada. Every concert had sold out—back in the spring when the shows were being arranged, Billie and her team just hadn’t anticipated the reach she would have by that fall. With more and more fans getting on board every day, the 200- to 400-capacity venues they had booked were now just not big enough. Even the biggest of them, the 500-capacity Crocodile in Seattle, sold out in less than half an hour.
With more and more fans getting on board every day, the 200- to 400-capacity venues they had booked were now just not big enough.
Going on the road for a month or more was a completely different affair from playing a couple of dates on successive nights. Firstly, she needed a support act and, naturally, Billie already had someone in mind. Thutmose, a fellow LA resident, was beginning to make a name for himself. The Nigerian-born, Brooklyn-raised rapper’s video of himself freestyling Kendrick Lamar’s “Humble” earned a million views in a week—and the attention of Billie, who was looking for someone to set the mood for her concerts. She needed a tour manager, too, and was fixed up with Brian Marquis, who had been touring with punk and hardcore bands since the turn of the century. Brian’s knowledge of the dives and back-room venues up and down the country was invaluable, but he would remain a vital part of Billie’s team as she graduated to concert halls and arenas.
She also needed road crew to drive the van, help set up, and operate the lights. Enter Patrick O’Connell, Billie’s dad. Having had limited opportunities to act, he had taken a job using his woodworking skills to build sets for Barbie dolls, but with the rest of the family taking to the road—Maggie would chaperone the still underage Billie—he wasn’t going to be left behind. He just needed to master the lighting, and he was the ideal one-man crew. “I thought, ‘When is this ever gonna happen again?’ ” he told Rolling Stone. “I wanted to be a part of it, because it’s pretty darn cool.” And so they packed the outfits, instruments, and T-shirts for the merch stall and, like one of their old family holidays, all climbed into a small van. They stuck to cheap hotels and the whole family would often have to share a single room, but, hey, it was all part of the adventure.
The tour played eleven shows in seventeen days, beginning in LA; traveling up the West Coast to Seattle via Oregon; heading cross-country to Chicago, into Canada for a show in Toronto, back down the East Coast to New York, Cambridge (Massachusetts), and Philadelphia; and finishing in Washington, DC. The traveling must have been exhausting, let alone getting up onstage most nights and having to perform.
The traveling must have been exhausting, never mind getting up onstage most nights a
nd having to perform.
Billie was now officially on the radar (certainly if a mention on Kim Kardashian’s Snapchat is the measure), and fans would be lining up at the doors and filling the venues hours before she was due onstage. The intimate venues were packed with teens, music-savvy twentysomethings, and a smattering of parents lingering at the back. It was great for Thutmose, who had a packed house to play for, and they were well and truly hyped by the time Billie bounded on to the stage after a few bars of the theme from her favorite TV comedy, The Office.
The set would open with “COPYCAT,” a track that immediately got fans moving (they loved the “Psych!” moment, when Billie gave the finger and everyone went wild). Then, for an hour, she held the audience spellbound. While Finneas stood by his keyboard, Billie used the whole area, prowling the stage edge to get as close to fans as possible, bouncing up and down, flicking her hair, holding the mic for the audience to sing, cheesily dancing next to Finneas, or standing at the mic stand swaying with her whole body. The audience was sucked in by the ebb and flow of the set list, as Billie built the energy, took it down with a slower number, and gradually raised it again. She finished the set with “ocean eyes”—one song everyone in the crowd knew—before returning for an encore with a rousing anthemic version of “bellyache.” As good as these tracks sounded in the studio, the live performance, feeding off the fans’ energy and passion, took them to another level—and the audience knew it. Billie wouldn’t be playing venues this small for much longer.
Billie Eilish, the Unofficial Biography Page 5