So unless you’ve been living under a rock, are over the age of 27 or have a life, you will have heard of Rebecca Black: the thirteen year old pop sensation with her instant-meme song “Friday”.
In this soul-turning analysis of the human condition, Rebecca (and, for some reason, a poor-man’s Usher) speaks frankly about her requirement to get down on friday and elaborates on a typical thirteen-year old’s friday in excruciating detail which, somehow, involves driving. She goes on to explain the days that come prior to and proceeding friday itself which, for someone her age, is pretty advanced.
Obviously, this has become an internet sensation, with grumble-pit and bile-machine Twitter elevating Black’s song to superstardom (D’oh!) as being considered the worst song in the world. It’s certainly left itself ripe for parody, as this video aptly shows:
Ok, so Rebecca Black’s song is a numbingly vapid song that made my brain scream in sheer agony and show me pictures of dead puppies as punishment; but bear in mind that it’s clearly a song aimed at equally as culturally retarded thirteen-year olds as Black. If it was trying to appeal to the demographic that have spewed the bile at her then they wouldn’t have used someone so young, it’s basically like watching My Little Pony and complaining that the storylines are badly written.
Besides, there’s far worse in music-land that we take seriously and though there’s mocking it’s nowhere near as cruel and total as what Black has endured (with remarkable decorum for her age I should add), and that comes in the glitter-crusty form of Kesha.
Ke$ha (Key-dollar-sign-ha!) has consistently given us such cerebral classics as “Tik Tok”, “Blah Blah Blah” and “We R Who We R”, all of which sound like a generic polyphonic ringtone from 2001 with lyrics that make as much sense as a marmalade torpedo. Arguably, her songs are a far more blatant attempt to make money off far more vapid and generic songs. She (and by ‘she’ I mean the record label sticking dollars in her cleavage, name or, by the looks of her, directly to her skin) projects the purposely over-exaggerated image of a party girl which, for some reason which makes me hate the human race for ever evolving, is considered aspirational. The record labels know, full well, that the archetype that Kesha displays is exactly what idiots in their early twenties want to be, and why’s that: because life is boring. Life is dull, and the Ke$ha lifestyle, for lack of a better word, looks exciting and interesting, so idiots aspire to it, and keep buying more of her shit to find out what scandalous acts they should perform next to be like her.
But she’s taken semi-seriously! She’s had number one hits, people buy this shit and NOT in an ironic way! Rebecca Black generates disproportionate hatred for a song aimed, sadly, at the right age-group so suitably hollow and moronic, whilst Kesha repeatedly pumps out ball-numbingly vacuous songs and is lauded for it!
Let Rebecca Black continue, if she can, to be a star to kids whilst we chuckle quietly at her; let’s deal with the far bigger problem of Kesha! When I establish my reich, we will march on her record label, take Kesha hostage and ask her some basic questions about current affairs, if she doesn’t answer with 100% accuracy (albeit most current affairs will probably be dominated by the fact that I’m somehow ruler of a newly established reich) then she will have her voicebox removed and fed to anybody who has bought her songs.
Now THAT’S proportionate!