In-Depth Musings on Amelia Moore’s ‘teaching a robot to love’

By Elise Bryan

Apple Music’s Up Next artist for the month of August, Amelia Moore (@icryatwork), released a deluxe version of her debut EP Wednesday, August 10th. As if the seven-track EP initially released on June 3rd wasn’t already a complete masterpiece in of itself, we have been graced with two more tracks that expand upon the burden of shouldering emotions for two. The deluxe version of teaching a robot to love (additional data) rounds out the five stages of grief, ending with acceptance, though Moore acknowledges that grief is by no means linear.

Throughout the EP, Moore is consistent with her clever use of metaphors and machine-like production, rendering a cohesive body of work that both lyrically and sonically conveys the disjointed nature of her brief, yet significant, relationship with an unfeeling partner. Moore refers to those who are unable to express emotions within romantic partnerships as “robots,” and has subsequently memorialized her experience with the aforementioned through this EP. It is truly an enjoyable listen, as it is a departure from the recently popularized bedroom pop sound and finds security in its unique and offbeat, so to speak, musicality and relatability.

intro

The first track on the EP, appropriately named “intro,” essentially provides context for the subsequent tracks, highlighting the dichotomy between Moore and her partner. Against a relatively stripped and unvaried backing, she sings “I bleed when my finger’s pricked/ and I’m counting my calories/ one time I broke a bone/ and cried at the gallery.” Moore alludes to her human sensibilities while contrasting them with the behaviors and actions of her supposed partner. She continues: “you plug me into your walls/ and use all my batteries/ it’s like you’re a teddy bear from a metal factory.” She is drained by his inability to express his feelings and is unable to find comfort in his aloofness. She concludes the short track by speculating that “under the bricks and codes/ and lack of expression/ oh, there’s someone there/ there’s gotta be.” The stage has effectively been set.

moves

The next track entitled “moves” cheekily reflects on the beginning stages of a relationship wherein you’re not quite sure what to do next or if there is any potential for longevity. The instrumentation is very upbeat and bubbly, however, there is a slight sense of anguish in her vocals, indicating that she is becoming frustrated with his noncommittal approach. At this stage, courtship is like playing a game of chess, which can be fun, but at a certain point, it becomes tiresome and frustrating. Moore seems to agree, stating “hanging out is only cool/when I’m not hanging by a thread/ overthinking what I didn’t shoulda coulda woulda said/ still don’t have no strategy to strategize this game of chess.” She is preoccupied with trying to decipher the trajectory of her relationship. By the song’s end, she seems to be defeated as she repeats in a progressively subdued fashion, “I’m running out of moves now.”

crybaby

Subsequently, “crybaby” is a personal favorite of mine as it distinctively marks Moore’s descent into absolute anger, questioning whether her opposite derives pleasure from making her cry or if he truly is incapable of reciprocating one iota of emotion. Moore beautifully screams in tune, “don’t you f*cking call me crazy, baby/ if I am, that’s what you made me, baby/ how can you watch makeup run down my face?” The music swells from a waltz-like pre-chorus and culminates in a very satisfying release as the chorus decrescendos masterfully. The song ends with a pointed question juxtaposed with an almost impossibly soft delivery: “do you love it when I cry?” Simply put and powerfully resonant.

i feel everything + IFE_outro_V4_AM_24b.wa)

In “i feel everything,” Moore turns the dial way up on her warranted anger. The song literally begins by tuning up her vocals before she wails: “no I don’t wanna calm down/ you don’t feel at all/ I feel, I feel everything/ you won’t even talk/ I just, I just wanna scream.” Once again, she spotlights the discrepancy between her capacity to feel human emotion and his lack thereof. Fed up she says, “I know you think it’s a weakness to be in touch with your feelings/ just get up off your pedestal/ it’s socially acceptable to take a bunch of edibles and break down at a festival.” True to Moore fashion, she conveys her upset in a relatively humorous and candid manner. The “i feel everything” outro, which has its own separate track titled “IFE_outro_V4_AM_24b.wa,” (consistent with the robot motif) features Amelia Moore and her producer talking about the love interest in question wherein she adorably states, “like, I know you’re a robot, but I’m still a girl.”

vinegar

In the sixth track “vinegar,” Moore internalizes that the situationship she’s been in is untenable. In an attempt to soothe the hurt within, she has “tried everything but vinegar.” She is ready to prioritize her own mental health and begin the process of rebuilding after neglecting herself for an extended period of time. The simplicity of the vocal production on the verses blissfully contrasts with the harmonic distortion of the choruses, creating an unexpected soundscape. Moore is older and wiser but has still endured a significant amount of hurt that will not dissipate unless she detaches herself from the robot that depletes her life force.

teaching a robot to love

The title track signifies Moore’s willingness to detach herself from the relationship. She is more than privy to the robotic tendencies of her love interest and understands that there is nothing she can do to make the situation right. “Prop you up before I turn you off/ check your chest to see the broken parts/ run my fingers through your holographic heart/ all systems down.” She recognizes that the relationship could only work if she changed her expectations, neglected her emotional needs, and eroded her self-worth: “But I’ma love you ‘til they pick apart my skin and bones/ replace my heart with lithium, and maybe we’ll relate for once.” The track features a modulated

voice, representative of her partner, responding to her aired grievances stating, “I don’t know how to touch, to feel, to love/ I don’t know how to be human.”

love me or leave me alone

While the majority of the EP consists of Moore grappling with the deficiencies of her partner, “love me or leave me alone” is where Amelia comes to accept that her relationship is really over. She knows that her partner will choose anything but her when confronted with an ultimatum. “I don’t want to have to give an ultimatum/ but I don’t know what else to do/ baby, it’s a yes or no/ I need you to love me or leave me alone.” She resolves that she’s going to have to leave him because she cannot rely on him to be decisive and upfront with what he truly wants. “And I’m crying in the studio on my birthday because I already know that you’ll choose to go.” Knowing that he will choose to leave even if he won’t say it outright encourages her to leave in spite of how much it pains her. “ I don’t want to, but I have to let go/ I love you but I’ll leave you alone.”

drugs

The final track, entitled “drugs,” is an incredibly fun sonic rendering and unexpected take on the quintessential association between love and the psychosomatic effects of drugs. Moore vividly describes the toll of the tumultuous relationship on her being and cleverly establishes a link between her current state and what she, perhaps, should have done instead to get the same effect. “My eyes are red and dilated/ my body hurts from coming down/ or was I just hallucinating/ to think that you would stick around.” With the relationship officially severed, heartbreak mimics the excruciating pain of withdrawal.“You got me strung out/ at least I know now/ if I wanna get f*cked up/ I should’ve done drugs.” She implies that if she was destined to feel this miserable, she should have at least been able to have some satisfaction like “rolling at Coachella and making out with all [her] friends.”

Given that teaching a robot to love (additional data), in all of its delicious complexity, is Amelia Moore’s debut project, there is no doubt that she is prime for a long and successful career. It is an honor to be one of the first to acknowledge the incredible talent that has been bestowed upon the music industry and music lovers everywhere. I look forward to seeing her growth and encourage others to support her on her journey. Mark my words when I say that we are watching the making of the next household name.

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Dylan Matthew