I’m sorry, internet, but you can’t throw a video like this at me and expect me to stay quiet about it. It’s just not feasible. I have to say something.
The video in question is Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” Chances are, you’re sick of hearing about it already. If this is your first time hearing about it, I have posted her video right here. Watching it is completely optional because the song has been known to make some people’s ears bleed.
Me on the other hand… I love this song to death. For reasons explained later.
Now the major dealie going on is that people are unanimously calling this “the worst song ever written.” I refuse to agree with that statment because this song doesn’t contain any instances of the word “slizzered,” and I refuse to acknowledge that Katy Perry’s “Firework” or Bruno Mars’ “Grenade” are acceptable alternatives.
What I like about this song is that Rebecca Black has unwittingly written what could otherwise be considered the perfect satirical take on modern pop music. All the worst of cliches are in here – the auto-tuned voice, the pointless rap sequence, the “party all the time” mentality, and best of all, the lack of lyrical symbolism, where she’s literally singing about eating cereal and wondering where in the car she’ll sit. I can’t listen to this song with a straight face. I just have a big dumb grin through the whole thing. I want to live in her world and follow her around and watch what she says about everyday things, like “Look, there’s a mailbox. The mailman puts the mail in the mailbox. That’s how we get our mail.” Awesome.
Now granted, she’s 13, and I blame both her parents and the record company for any pain she’s suffered at the hands of this song. I mean, come on – putting your 13 year old daughter in the position of becoming the laughing stock of the internet should be considered child abuse. They had every chance to stop this before it started – all they had to do was tell Rebecca “we’ll get you some singing lessons and find you a better writer” before deciding she needed her own label.
But the interesting thing about seeing someone so young write a song like this is seeing what kind of musical influence is going into children these days. Everything about this song seems like a parody of Justin Bieber, Ke$ha, and The Black-Eyed Peas – only it’s meant to be an homage. She has picked up on the worst of everything and turned it into inspiration. Much like how The Black-Eyed Peas used to rhyme the days of the week with the other days of the week, Rebecca Black has taken it one step further: she explains that Sunday comes after Saturday, which comes after Friday. Something about that makes me clap my hands like a seal, and yet dread what kind of music we’ll be hearing throughout the next decade.
So, yes, it’s a terrible song, but it’s just so bad that it’s good. For a song that has no poetic craft, it’s open to so many interpretations. It’s a statement about music, about society, about children, about fame – you can turn it into a statement about everything in life except… ironically… parties. We learn nothing new about parties from this song.
Interesting things happen in life. This was one of them.