Time to Pretend

"Time to Pretend" is a satirical and ironic commentary on the archetypal rockstar lifestyle. Written by Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser while they were still in college, the song acts as a fantasy blueprint for achieving fame through a clichéd path of hedonism, excess, and self-destruction. The lyrics juxtapose the glorious fantasy of "models for wives," cocaine, and elegant cars with the grim, nihilistic conclusion of choking on vomit. This creates a powerful sense of irony; it's a celebration of a dream that is simultaneously understood to be a shallow, destructive, and ultimately empty pursuit. The song mocks the very lifestyle it describes, treating the entire concept of rock stardom as a performance or a role to be played—a pretense. Beneath the upbeat, anthemic synth-pop surface lies a critique of fame's superficiality and a lament for the loss of innocence, family, and simple pleasures, as expressed in the second verse. It captures the conflict between rejecting a mundane, conventional life ("jobs in offices") and the equally unappealing, though more glamorous, trap of rock-and-roll clichés. The song's core message became ironically prophetic, as MGMT was launched into the very stardom they were parodying, making "Time to Pretend" a self-fulfilling prophecy that the band has had a complicated relationship with ever since.

The narrative begins with a declaration of raw, youthful energy, a feeling of being in one's prime. This energy is channeled into a specific, fantastical plan: to form a band, achieve wealth, and marry models. The vision expands into a caricature of a debaucherous rockstar life, involving moving to Paris, indulging in hard drugs like heroin, and mingling with the famous. This lifestyle includes acquiring a private island, a steady supply of cocaine, and luxurious cars. This path is presented as a conscious, deliberate choice—a pact to "live fast and die young." It’s framed as a vision they are excited to pursue. The song acknowledges the overwhelming nature of this fantasy but dismisses any alternative, like a conventional life of office jobs and daily commutes, as mundane and undesirable. Embracing this destiny means severing ties with the past, including mothers and friends, because they are "fated to pretend."

A shift occurs as the narrator reflects on what will be lost. There's a sense of nostalgia for a simpler, innocent past: missing playgrounds, interactions with animals, and the simple joy of digging for worms. The comfort of a mother's presence and the abstract "weight of the world" are remembered with longing. The narrator anticipates missing family—sister, father, even the dog—and the familiar feeling of home. There’s a poignant acknowledgment of missing both boredom and the freedom of solitude, the unstructured time of youth. Despite this catalog of profound losses, there's a sense of resignation; the path is set, and there's nothing to be done. The logic dictates that love must be discarded to make way for a constantly renewing, superficial life. The cycle of this life is laid bare: the models they marry will have children, leading to inevitable divorces. The solution is simply to find new models, as this is the natural course of their chosen existence. The story culminates in a grimly prophetic end: they will choke on their own vomit, a final, pathetic outcome of their glamorous pretense. This end isn't a surprise but a fulfillment of the fate they were always destined to act out.

"Time to Pretend" was written by Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser during their senior year at Wesleyan University, around 2004-2005. The entire concept of their band, initially called "The Management," was satirical, a joke about being rock stars where they would perform for small groups of people in dorm rooms while wearing fake fur coats and acting foolishly. The song was born from this mindset, written as a tongue-in-cheek fantasy about the absurdities of the rockstar lifestyle they were observing in pop culture. An early version of the song appeared on their self-released Time to Pretend EP in 2005. This EP, recorded on their laptops with inexpensive microphones, caught the attention of Columbia Records. When the label signed them, they wanted to include "Time to Pretend" on their debut full-length album, Oracular Spectacular. This required a re-recording, as Columbia did not own the master of the original EP version. For the album, they worked with producer Dave Fridmann, known for his work with The Flaming Lips, whose drum sounds the band admired. Fridmann retained much of the raw, synth-heavy magic of the original demo but enhanced it by adding live drums and slightly increasing the tempo to match ABBA's "Dancing Queen," a subtle musical easter egg. A peculiar inspiration for the music came from a praying mantis the duo kept in their house, which laid eggs and died. The sight of the baby mantises climbing the rigging of a model pirate ship inspired the track's musical feel. The album version, released as a single in 2008, became their breakthrough hit, launching them into the international fame the song itself satirized.

The rhyme and rhythm of "Time to Pretend" are crucial to its anthemic and catchy quality, creating a structure that is both simple and effective.

Rhyme Scheme: The song largely follows a simple, direct rhyme scheme within its verses, often using couplets (AABB). For example: "I'm feelin' rough, I'm feelin' raw / I'm in the prime of my life" (no rhyme, setting the stage) is followed by "Let's make some music, make some money / Find some models for wives" (no rhyme, but sets a pattern of couplets) and "I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars / You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars" (AABB). The chorus has a more declarative, less rhyme-focused structure, emphasizing its role as a motto. The second verse returns to a clear AABB structure: "I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms / I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world" and "I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home / Yeah, I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone." This straightforward scheme makes the lyrics memorable and chant-like.

Rhythm and Tempo: The song has a driving, mid-tempo rhythm that gives it a danceable, pop feel. The drum pattern is a steady, looped 2-bar pattern, creating a propulsive forward momentum. Producer Dave Fridmann intentionally sped up the album version to match the tempo of ABBA's "Dancing Queen," contributing to its infectious, upbeat energy. This rhythmic foundation, built on a prominent bass line and steady drums, contrasts with the soaring, often syncopated synth melodies. The interplay between the steadfast musical rhythm and the more fluid vocal melody creates a dynamic tension that mirrors the song's lyrical conflict between a driving ambition and a detached, almost dreamlike state.

"Time to Pretend" employs a distinctive blend of musical and literary techniques that create its signature ironic tone.

• Musical Style: The song is built on a foundation of synth-pop and electronic rock, characterized by its prominent, infectious, and soaring synthesizer riffs that have an '80s-inspired, almost utopian feel. This upbeat, danceable sound, influenced by artists like New Order and David Bowie, contrasts sharply with the cynical and dark lyrical content, creating a powerful sense of irony. The production by Dave Fridmann layered the original lo-fi synth tracks with live drums and a slightly faster tempo, giving it a more polished yet still rebellious character. The use of what Ben Goldwasser calls "good fake sampled orchestra instruments," like the French horn sound, adds to the song's grand, theatrical, and slightly artificial atmosphere.
• Vocal Delivery: Andrew VanWyngarden's vocal delivery is often described as floating and deadpan, which enhances the feeling of detached observation. Singing in unison, as they did in their early days, adds to the sense of a shared, manifesto-like declaration.
• Literary Techniques: The lyrics are a prime example of irony and satire, mocking the rockstar lifestyle by presenting it as a desirable fantasy. Hyperbole is used extensively, as in "We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end," to exaggerate the clichés to the point of absurdity. The song also uses juxtaposition by placing the glamorous fantasy of the first verse against the nostalgic, innocent memories of the second, highlighting what is lost in the pursuit of fame. The repeated refrain "We're fated to pretend" acts as a fatalistic, recurring motif that underscores the song's central theme of inauthenticity.

"Time to Pretend" had a significant cultural impact, becoming one of the defining indie anthems of the late 2000s. Upon its release on the album Oracular Spectacular, the song propelled MGMT from an obscure college project to international stardom, ironically fulfilling the prophecy laid out in the lyrics. It received widespread critical acclaim, with Rolling Stone ranking it at number 493 on its list of "The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time" and NME naming it the second-best song of the 2000s. The song's success, along with "Kids" and "Electric Feel," was instrumental in pushing indie-pop and synth-pop further into the mainstream, influencing a wave of similar-sounding bands throughout the following decade. Its distinctive sound and satirical take on fame resonated with the millennial generation, capturing a specific blend of ambition, irony, and existential anxiety. The song has been widely used in popular media, appearing in films like 21 (2008), Sex Drive (2008), and most recently Saltburn (2023), as well as in numerous TV shows including Gossip Girl, Girls, and trailers for Spider-Man: Homecoming, solidifying its status as a cultural touchstone for its era.

"Time to Pretend" is rich with symbolism and metaphors that critique the rockstar archetype.

• The Rockstar Lifestyle as Pretense: The central theme, encapsulated in the title and the recurring line "We're fated to pretend," frames the entire rockstar experience not as an authentic life but as a role to be performed. It's a conscious decision to adopt a hollow, clichéd identity.
• Paris, Heroin, and Models: These are not just literal aspirations but symbols of the ultimate rockstar fantasy. "Move to Paris, shoot some heroin and f#$k with the stars" is a hyperbolic, condensed image of glamorous self-destruction and moral decay, highlighting the absurdity of the dream. The "models for wives" symbolize relationships as disposable accessories rather than meaningful commitments, reinforced by the line, "We'll get a divorce / We'll find some more models."
• The Island and Elegant Cars: These represent the material wealth and isolation that come with fame. The island is a fortress of hedonism, a private world detached from reality.
• Choking on Vomit: This stark, graphic image serves as the ultimate symbol of the lifestyle's emptiness and inevitable, pathetic end. It's a direct and crude allusion to the well-documented deaths of rock legends, stripping the "live fast, die young" trope of any romanticism.
• Playgrounds, Animals, and Worms: These images in the second verse symbolize a lost innocence and a connection to a simpler, more authentic life. They stand in stark contrast to the artificial world of fame, representing the genuine joys that must be sacrificed.

The most significant recurring motif in "Time to Pretend" is the lyrical phrase "We're fated to pretend." This line appears as a refrain after the first chorus and as the concluding thought of the entire song, cementing it as the central thesis. Its repetition emphasizes the idea of inevitability and a lack of agency. The characters in the song aren't just choosing this lifestyle; they feel destined for it, as if it's a script they are compelled to follow. This reinforces the theme of inauthenticity and performance over genuine living.

The chorus itself, "This is our decision to live fast and die young / We've got the vision, now let's have some fun," serves as a recurring manifesto. It's a declaration of intent that reappears to punctuate the narrative, functioning as a powerful, ironic hook. Its repetition gives the song an anthemic quality, ironically turning a cautionary tale into something that sounds like a rallying cry for hedonism.

Another, more subtle, recurring idea is the contrast between the fantastical future and the mundane present/past. The line "Yeah, it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?" followed by the rhetorical question about getting "jobs in offices" acts as a recurring justification for their extreme choice, highlighting a binary opposition between a boring reality and a destructive fantasy.