Rob Sheffield has already said everything funny there is to say about Rebecca Black’s “Friday.” So it’s time to look at this phenomenon from the ’90s Woman perspective, and that is:
WTF is so scary about an ambitious thirteen-year-old girl?
“Friday” is cringe-tastically dumb, but c’mon, that godforsaken Train song “Marry Me” outranks her on iTunes by three spots, so are the charts pure meritocracies?
The real lesson in all of this is that when a normal teenage girl achieves some kind of power — as through having a song suddenly in the Top 50 — she’s super threatening and everyone piles on in this crazy hate-fest that seems waaay disproportionate to the dippiness of the song.
Every freakout I’ve heard about her (she’s autotuned! she wrote a stupid song! hey, she didn’t even write the stupid song! her parents paid for her to do that song! she didn’t earn it! she’s wearing too much makeup! she’s not wearing enough makeup!) feels like suspiciously-intense anti-teen-girlishness, with a dash of rockist anti-pop-music vitriol thrown in.
People don’t get this angry just over some cheesy lyrics. No one was out there calling for the death of James “there must be an angel with a smile on her face” Blunt.