Rebecca Black- Harbinger of the Culturepocalypse
Now before you all roll your eyes at the sight of yet another unimportant member of the general public expressing rage toward an 8th grade girl who became famous singing about a certain day of the week I have come to dread, allow me to assure you, I’m better than the others. That being said, I’d like to take this time to break down the toxic, corrosive presence embodied in talentless teen Rebecca Black.
Referring to the title, I truly believe we may be facing the end of American popular culture as a whole. Now it’s not Black’s fault completely. Justin Bieber, Twilight, Soulja Boy and the last decade of Disney productions (namely Miley Cyrus, Jonas Brothers and other subhumans manufactured by the profit-and-youth-consuming legacy of Walt’s frozen head) did most of the leg work. Consider Rebecca Black the straw that broke the camel’s back. But instead of a camel, it’s my shreds of hope for humanity and instead of a straw, it’s a Rebecca Black sandwich with sparkly, auto-tuned camel shit for bread. You see, America’s standard of quality that media needs meet in order to achieve popularity has plummeted, making so people like Bieber and Black can have millions of plays on YouTube in a week and Michael Bay’s Transformers are taken seriously as works of cinema.
In other words, it seems as though to be enormously popular, a piece of media must be:
1) Completely devoid of balls. Disney creations and Rebecca Black are no-brainers for this criterion, while films like Hop and Diary of a Wimpy Kid and shows like iCarly and whatever’s on Cartoon Network nowadays (I can’t risk actually checking or i may slip into a blind, tv-destroying fury followed by a deep depression) might have slid under your sacklessness radar riding on the “kontent 4 kidz!!!” excuse. But even this children’s programming has fewer bpm (balls per minute) than their counterparts of yesteryear. Consider Hey Arnold. That show was real as all fuck- bunch of misfit kids in Brooklyn, some minority tensions, muggers, real shit. Now look what Nickelodeon’s become:
2) Superbly annoying. There’s just something about Rebecca Black and her culture-killing comrades that makes level-headed persons universally and unanimously want to slap both their individual shits and collective shit. It’s that voice that sounds like a frustrated cow trying desperately to untie her udders after a group of local boys decided to practice sailing knots on nearby cattle. It’s her utter (not intentional) inability to write lyrics beyond the scope of her archetypical pre-weekend experiences, the sequence in which days go, and the relatable societal concern of seat-based indecision. Meanwhile lyricists starve and get single digit playcounts on Soundcloud (speaking of which, http://soundcloud.com/crym/sets/off-the-spectrum). I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell do not need lessons on the order of days from some chick who probably got her first period the week before recording that song.
That’s about all I can handle for now without developing a rage-induced ulcer, but I’ll be back with more rants and laments toward the current state of popular culture. Maybe I’ll make it a regular thing, who knows. Stay classy, fam (I’m allowed to say “fam”, right?).
P.S. I’d like to add that the ARK Music Factory is indeed a factory in every sense of the word, except that only white people work in it. Still, the label contains ghoulish incarnations of Upton Sinclair’s nightmares all the same.