Remy's Rants - In defense of "Friday" by Rebecca Black

Rebecca Black’s “Friday”. We’ve all heard it, and a lot of us wish we never had. Those who haven’t are probably wondering what the crap the fuss is all about. What could possibly make this song so bad that the entire internet has descended into mindless homicidal rage like some junkie with lady issues catching his wife in bed with another man … or woman, whatever you like? Well, after listening to this song a grand total of two times, and seeing an interview with the little girl who was unfortunate enough to spawn it, all I can say is … What is wrong with you people?

Let me clarify. I don’t like the song. The lyrics are sillier than Charlie Sheen’s outlook on his apparent awesomeness, and it feels like my eardrums are being molested by a hand rubbing a squeaky balloon every time she says the word “Friday”. But then, that’s how I feel about most of the repetitive “music” put out by pretty much every rapper and aspiring one hit wonder out there. Yes, when I first heard the song I felt like everyone else for a time. I desperately wanted my four minutes back. But then I stopped to think a moment, and I came to the sad realization that it’s likely just another case of people being lemmings. It’s “in” to hate this song. If a few influential people said it was awesome, I guarantee a decent majority of the haters would be converted over night.

Off the top of my head, I can think of tons of songs that are FAR worse than this. In fact, here’s a Youtube link of someone’s top ten worst songs of 2010 for your critiquing convenience.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UE0HTC89VPQ

(NOTE, VIDEO CONTAINS TRUTH, AND RATHER FOWEL LANGUAGE.)

About eighty-five percent of these songs are far worse than anything Miss Black will probably ever come up with. Okay, I’ll let Justin Beber off because he’s already had the world at his throat, but the rest? That crap is what passes for catchy and inspiring music? To who? Drunk “wankstas”? And don’t even get me started on the plague of debauched sound that was the Crazy Frog. This … THIS made it to number 1 in Europe in 2004.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k85mRPqvMbE

After stealing the awesome tune from Harold Faltermeyer, this song was easily the mid two thousand equivalent to a one hit wonder who went viral. What were they thinking? This thing got world-wide recognition, and its creators probably made way more money than I’ll ever see.

The sad truth is “Friday” is far from the worst song in the world. I can’t believe I actually feel prompted to blog about anything “poppy” but I stand by this pronouncement for the following reasons.

First, the girl’s in eighth grade. She’s in eighth grade and singing about how awesome Friday is, and how she doesn’t want the weekend to be over. Yes, the lyrics are pretty silly, and she does stretch her words into multi-sylabic filler. I also admit I’ve known from a very young age that Sunday comes after Saturday. But what eighth grade kid – heck, who among us now – doesn’t love the weekend? Would it be better if she were singing songs about how in love she is with some transient school boy who broke her impressionable heart, and how at thirteen she’ll never fall in love again? Come on! There’s already tons of those songs written by adults and kids alike, some of whom may have never known real love in their lives. Oh, but wait! Maybe she could sing about whipping her “herr” back and forth. Better yet! Why not write an entire song about how awesome it is to smoke a big pound of weed and losing her virginity at a party! Yeah! That’ll make it all better, right? Sadly, it might just do that. The fact is, she’s in eighth grade, singing about eighth grader stuff in a market dominated by hundreds of tunes about clubbing, lost love, rape, drunk sex, dry sex, slapping women, punching men, blunts, fortys, hook-ups, STDs and “hoes”. Rebecca Black, good for you for daring to wade through this sesspool of filth and scrutiny with something that breaks normality.

Second, the song, whatever people say about it is up-beat, positive, and as catchy as a cold in flu season. Cheezy lyrics aside, it’s positive in that innocent simple way which few people older than ten seem to feel. Do I like it? No. But I have it stuck in my head nonetheless, and it doesn’t make me sorry to be human like all the clubbing, partying boozy sex songs tend to do. What’s more, I wouldn’t have to worry about my own kids stumbling across it on Youtube and asking awkward questions.

Thirdly, say what you want about the lyrics. At least she bothered to include some. The song is as repetitive as any song with a chorus. It doesn’t use the same for to eight words or silly catch phrases over and over and over and over. I’m not sure if it was Miss Black or someone else who wrote it, but it’s still high above a lot of that repetitive stuff stuff which has gotten tons of recognition. Crase in point, anything Soldier Boy ever released.

Finally, for the satirists out there, this song just screams “make a parody of me!” You know they’re coming. They’re probably already here. Who knows, there might even be some good ones at some point.

So for all you people out there who can’t stand this song, you’re entitled to your opinion. But I challenge you to get more recognition. I challenge you to deal with the intense hatred of hundreds of thousands of people, a decent amount of which won’t be able to help themselves from humming your crazy song. And I challenge you all to think before calling this girl every name in the book and a few you’ve made up specially. And to the uppity wanker who may or may not have written to Miss Black “I hope you cut yourself and get an eating disorder”, shame on you, a pox on your house, your unborn children, and I DARE you to gain even a fraction of her recognition in such a short time. And if you have, your comment’s all the more ridiculous.

To end:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD2LRROpph0

listen and weep, curse or dance. But know that for whatever reason, this song will, for better or worse, be stuck in your head.