Janet Devlin releases “Candy”, and she sounds like she’s wearing a smirk that could stop traffic. This track doesn’t tiptoe; it struts. From the jump, we are met with a rhythmic, plucking string vibration a gritty, staccato backbone that acts like the nervous system of the song. It’s propelled by a heavy, stomping beat that feels authoritative, the kind of pulse that makes you want to walk a little faster and a little taller.
The narrative here is fascinatingly thorny. Devlin explores the “sugar baby” dynamic, that transactional romance usually reserved for hushed gossip and side-eyes. But instead of playing into the tragedy or the farce of an age-gap arrangement, she hands the younger partner the power.
It exudes a confident, sassy energy, suggesting that maybe this material exchange has morphed into something genuinely messy and human. The backing harmonies swell, creating this atmospheric wall of sound that lets her vocal hook soar. It’s country-rock with a distinct Indie Pop gloss, but the attitude is pure punk rebellion.
It feels empowering in a way you don’t expect, turning a taboo subject into an anthem for anyone who’s ever found happiness in the “wrong” place. The track argues that intimacy is a currency everyone spends differently. By the time the final beat stomps out, you have to ask yourself: if they are happy in their castle built on cash and compromise, why are we the ones throwing stones?
