“You should see me maskless — oh, wait, I guess you never will,” murmurs Eliza Haywood — AKA ThatGirl — on the opening track of her new extended play, provocatively titled he doesnt even know my name. It’s a highly unexpected move from the 32-year old bookstore owner, actress, author, and now musician, but perhaps it’s to be expected from someone so adept at telling captivating tales. The five-song set, which clocks in at a meager 19 minutes, follows an unnamed teenage female protagonist as she partakes in the ultimate masquerade. First, on “maybe just tonight (Fantomina I),” she plays the part of Fantomina, a lady of the evening and cozies up to a fellow named Beauplaisir. On “hands off me (Fantomina II),” he assaults her, and she imagines the protestations she so badly wants to raise, but fears to. “maid IV u (Celia)” comes next, as she adopts the role of a maid to seduce him; then, on “he doesnt even want me (Bloomer),” she pretends to be a lost widow — but soon finds that he still longs for Fantomina. On the finale, “special delivery (Incognita),” she plays the role of Incognita, a temptress who lures him in via letter then meets him only in the dark so he can’t see her… but ends up pregnant and giving birth, to her recently returned mother’s horror, by the end of the song.
Recently, our roving music journalist, Jane “Lute Lover” Smith, sat down with Haywood to discuss the musical project, as well as what she expects her legacy to be.
J “LL” S: Thank you so much for meeting me today, Eliza! I’ve listened to your EP three times, and I have to say, I’m speechless. Your story has so many twists and turns, so many possible interpretations… It feels like it’s a record about many different things. What is it about, for you?
EH: That’s what I was actually going for with the record: It’s not about anything in particular, other than this young woman — whose name we never even learn, whose name really doesn’t matter in the scheme of the story. By the end, we know a lot about her, but in another way, she’s just as mysterious at the end as she was at the beginning, and she’s just as mysterious to us as she was to Beauplaisir, may God curse his soul.
J “LL” S: But the EP must be about something for you: Is it about revenge? Is it about a romance that could have been perfect, ruined by violence, and how a woman responds to it? Is it about finding oneself, as a young person, trying on different roles?
EH: Yes. (Laughs)
J“LL” S: Fair enough. And I was hoping to get your comment on the ending, too… Our unnamed heroine — I think it’s safe to call her a heroine —
EH: If she’s a heroine to you, she’s a heroine.
J “LL” S: Whatever she is, she ends up being sent off to a monastery. And I was staring at that ending, and in a way, it seems almost like the start of a new chapter. The record ends so abruptly — was that all purposeful?
EH: Absolutely, it was. Because as one story ends, another begins. And I’m aware that over time, the meaning — I don’t want to say “moral” — is bound to change in listeners’ eyes. Three centuries from now, perhaps English students at some college in one of the American colonies will look at my work and interpret it as an unhappy ending, some sort of scolding punishment for the unnamed lady. That’s not how I interpreted it, but above all, I intended for the record to be so ambiguous that its moral really relies on the reader — er, listener.
J “LL” S: And the unnamed heroine bears little resemblance to you, correct? I mean, you’re a woman in your thirties, and our protagonist appears to be a teenager. She’s trying to figure out who she is, it almost seems like, and you appear to definitively know who you are. Yet your narrative style seems to honor the kind of person your character is.
EH: I’d say that’s accurate. That is the whole point of storytelling: creating a character. That character can be based on your own experiences, or on those of others, and in the case of this woman, I think it’s fair to say it was a little bit of each.
J “LL” S: One final question: You’ve done so much: you’re an actress, an author, a bookstore owner, a publisher… and now a musician. Obviously, the term “feminist” — someone who supports equality of the sexes — isn’t going to exist for another century, but would you say that your work — or you yourself — are feminist?
EH: You’ll recall what I said earlier, about not wanting any heavy-handed message or moral in my story. There’s a message there, but it spoils it if I simply tell people “This is what the story is supposed to tell you.” So I’m not going to unmask the meaning behind the story itself. What I will say is, that although I’m happy as a woman and I can’t honestly complain, I do hope that my life may serve as an inspiration to other strong, hardworking women who come after me.
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