MOON

The moon has traditionally inspired contemplation.
BABYMONSTER has decided it requires better branding.

This is perhaps inevitable. I know a guy who once spent an entire song talking to the moon, waiting to discover whether someone on the other side might notice. BABYMONSTER has reviewed his results and identified the obvious procedural weakness:

You must of course become the moon.

“MOON” is not really about illumination. It is about the fantasy of becoming impossible to overlook. The moon here is less a celestial body than the highest available tier of personal visibility. It glows in darkness, governs the tide, travels by spaceship, raises the bar, sets things on fire and—despite already occupying a substantial portion of the night sky—continues requesting our attention.

This is where the name BABYMONSTER becomes unexpectedly precise. Officially, it joins youthful charm with monster-like ability. But there is another useful tension inside it: the baby wishes to be noticed, while the monster has made being ignored inadvisable.

The song does not entirely trust the transformation. Someone who genuinely believes she is the moon would presumably not need to keep asking whether we can see her. Yet “MOON” repeatedly turns looks to the audience, checking the room. Its confidence has a live attendance requirement.

That may be the song's accidental truth.

The desire to shine is rarely just the desire to produce light. More often, it is the hope that enough light will finally make recognition unavoidable—that visibility might settle whatever evaluation originally made it necessary.

The moon itself has never seemed particularly concerned.
It appears, disappears, moves oceans without announcing the numbers, and has occasionally ruined a poet's judgment simply by being available.

For further lunar guidance I've got better ideas.
Maybe just talk to it, instead of attempting to replace it.

— LuxVero