Ex-Wives

"Ex-Wives" arrives like a cannon shot — drum machine, distorted guitars, and six voices stacking into something that hits the chest before the brain processes a single lyric. The opening number of Six functions as a manifesto and a party simultaneously, introducing each of Henry VIII's wives through rapid-fire verses that blend pop hooks with historical reclamation. The production is unapologetically modern: four-on-the-floor beats, synth layers borrowed from stadium pop, vocal harmonies that feel like a girl group making a point. Each wife gets a vocal snippet that telegraphs her personality — there's swagger, there's sweetness twisted into defiance, there's barely concealed fury wrapped in glitter. What's remarkable is how the song holds its theatrical premise (these women are literally competing to tell their story) while also functioning as pure pop euphoria. The chorus is designed to be chanted back by an audience that's already on its feet. Historically, these were women defined by their relationship to one man's power and caprice; this song detonates that framing entirely, foregrounding their subjectivity before the show has barely begun. This is music for putting on when you need to remember that reclaiming your own narrative is worth celebrating loudly, and preferably with choreography.