When it comes to turning digital acronyms into songs, we’ve got OMG (capably handled by Usher) and LOL (perhaps less so, by Trey Songz), but after them the slate has relatively barren recently. We’ve got to thank recent Chameleon/Island Records signee Nikki Williams, then, for taking on one of our favorite bits of web-based ephemera, FMK (for Fuck Marry Kill), and turning it into a song. We’ll even forgive her for calling the track “Kill, Fuck, Marry” for some inexplicable reason when there are so many other better ways
In honor of the FMK game, in which players debate which person in a group of three they would prefer to become intimate with, make a lifelong commitment to, or murder, we’ve rounded up the various things about “Kill, Fuck, Marry” and its accompanying video that we would prefer to F, M or K.
MARRY: Nikki’s voice, which is one part Kelly Clarkson, one part Hayley Williams. She’s got the power to belt with the heavyweights, but there’s a rock edge to her voice that sets her apart from the Idol crowd. Pink is a close analogue, but while the “Raise Your Glass” singer often wants you to feel every inch of effort in her vocals, Williams is more apt to soar with the melodies than strain under them.
FUCK: The Lana Del Rey nods, both in the song’s lush production and in the video’s overwrought Americana. But hey, LDR may be a better idol to follow than rock-diva predecessors like Jessie James, the bones of whose career still litter the Valley.
KILL: The track’s major songwriting conceit: “Kill, fuck, marry are the things I wanna do to you.” The hook’s a shameless play for Internet attention, which we wouldn’t mind so much if 1) it wasn’t shoehorned in so awkwardly and 2) it didn’t have absolutely nothing to do with what the FMK game is about. She couldn’t even try to make it about three people, or even one guy who seems like he’s three different people? That’s like recording a song called “BRB” and then making it about being ready, baby.
MARRY: The noir atmosphère that pervades the video. (We’d keep finances separate, though, in case any Double Indemnity shenanigans go down.) We are especially smitten with the lighting in this diner:
KILL: The filler paragraphs in articles about this song that will assume automatically the lyrics are about Williams’s turbulent relationship with husband Weston Cage. Not that they aren’t, just we have no way of knowing that yet.
MARRY: The blatant Chekhov’s Gun right here:
FUCK: This sultry hair flip:
KILL: The only thing that would happen to us at this gas station:
FUCK: The incredibly cheesy double-exposure here:
KILL: The absolutely insane amount of lens flares:
FUCK: This guy: