10 minutes prior to the release of Troye Sivan’s Easy video, we head to his Youtube channel. There’s a countdown to the release, accompanied by a live chat—the texts are undecipherable, of course, appearing only to be hastily replaced by the next. Something about the cadence is all too familiar to Sivan, who first garnered recognition as a video creator. 

Yet, as an outsider looking in, the outpour of streams and ‘stans’ (overzealous online fans) becomes a bit overwhelming. Their messages, though, provide more context. Users (by the thousands) explore their own personal connections to Troye’s music, rendering it anthemic of a generation. Troye himself becomes almost canonized, a vision of a queer futurity. 

The video isn’t quite as idyllic: there’s no linear narrative, no satisfactory ending. Easy revels in the complexity of intimacy, speaking to the aftermath of a relationship gone askew. For those who’ve been listening to Sivan since 2015’s Blue Neighborhood, there’s a certain shift: Troye no longer writes of an adolescent naivety, it’s an altogether more mature and refined sound. 

Still, the ‘stans’ find an appreciation for the authenticity, and for the vulnerability inherent in the lyricism. “You ran away to find something to say / I went astray to make it okay / And he made it easy, darlin”—Sivan writes of infidelity, emotional dissonance, and a longing left unrequited. The message resonates with those who’ve experienced a partner gradually look elsewhere, and the volatility which ensues. 

It’s a stark contrast from more palatable queer acoustics, regulated to the confines of a predominantly heterosexual industry. There’s no mention of a rainbow, no inference of ‘love is love’. There’s something that emerges when queer isn’t meant to signify a monolith, and instead given the space to exist with nuance and multiplicity. 

The video is similarly expansive: Troye goes from melancholic to eccentric, from isolation to appearing on a television screen. He sees an eccentric version of himself—which one user compares to ‘Alice from Twilight’. There’s definitely a vampiric, macabre atmosphere; an altogether more somber piece. The ending has Troye staring into the camera, practically begging “please don’t leave me”. 

That’s to say, the song has a more upbeat production, with synthetic vocals and an 80’s inspired track. There’s an abrupt sense of confusion, to which Troye himself might be susceptible. The video ends as he’s—quite literally—on fire. (Metaphorically too, we’re sure). 

Watch the video below, and let us know your own interpretations: