The short answer is a resounding "NO."
But, that doesn’t mean we can’t live in a world where Rebecca Black can have a successful music career, where old school fans, such as myself, can revel in her novelty pop tunes. It’s hard to be taken seriously as a child star (and even harder to be taken seriously as a former child star). Some have managed and it involves careful social maneuvering. As a child star, you must embrace their cute, innocent and ultimately empty public persona, then ride it to the edge of puberty, before exploding into an inappropriately young sex symbol—seemingly overnight—to keep people looking at you. Should you survive the media storm that accompanies this transformation, you can usually mellow out into someone with enough material under their belt—and enough of an audience—that you can finally start putting out serious material, for those who have stuck around from the beginning (and, therefore, stand by you). Plus, you might get some new fans, who know nothing of your sordid past.
It’s a tough path and not all have survived. As a rule of thumb, don’t diddle kids, ’cause they will dig up your corpse and rebury you as a monster, after giving you a lovely funeral. All this aside, as a child pop star, you can’t just go from novelty act to serious diva overnight—even if "overnight" is a period of roughly eight years. I’m referring to Rebecca Black’s performance with hipster idols Man Man, last month at the Hawthorne Theater. Eight years since the sensational debut of her genre-and-logic-defying single, "Friday," Rebecca Black finally graced Portland with her presence, only to befuddle true fans, such as myself, with a subdued performance consisting mostly of covers. For shame, Miss Black!
Besides not having enough of your own material, that show is the kind of thing you do in your ’30s, after running the rebellious, over-sexualized, energetic pop show into the ground, when you want to remind people that you actually know how to sing. Miss Black is just living in a fantasy version of her career, where she skipped the hard part!
As a true Rebecca Black fan, I—like everyone one else in the audience—was expecting a rousing rendition of this eight-year-old pop song, hoping that maybe Patrice Wilson would make an appearance for his reason-defying rap. No such luck. Instead, we got a slowed-down version, accompanied by an un-enthused electric guitarist. Plus, she only played half the fucking song and still had the gall to expect us to shout "yeah!" after her somber delivery of "partyin’, partyin’..."
Of course, we complied.
And, that wasn’t even her last song. She closed with a No Doubt cover.
She had opened with an Ariana Grande cover.
What is the world coming to?!
And, yet, it is not her fault. She was dealt a bad hand at the beginning of her career. Her only sin is being human. We all want to be taken seriously. It’s hard enough being exploited as a child for profit. Poor Miss Black didn’t get Usher to pimp her, like Mr. Bieber. Instead, she was stuck with Nigerian Usher lookalike, Patrice Wilson and his unsettling ARK Music Factory. If you don’t know about ARK, do yourself a favor and go down the YouTube rabbit hole to see all the disturbingly young victims (cough clients) of this strange child sex trafficking ring (cough music production company).
If you are unlike me and NOT a true Rebecca Black fan, you probably would say something silly, like "There cannot be a song as ridiculous and pointless as the 2011 lyrical masterpiece about a certain day in the week." Naysayers, like you, will be very surprised to see a slew of videos featuring disturbingly young girls singing about Thanksgiving, Chinese food and other such subject matter.
I am not joking.
If "Friday" offended you in any way, go listen to Alison Gold’s "Chinese Food." You won’t even have time to be offended by the cultural appropriation, before you are sucked into a narrative involving an 11-year-old girl looking to drown the hangover from clubbing (I think?) in greasy Chinese food, before befriending a grown man in a Panda costume, only to take said grown man to her slumber party with other 11-year-old girls. Hilarity ensues.
At least in the "Friday" music video, the grown man is in a car MILES away from the party full of preteens, spouting his age-appropriate rap. Switching lanes, yo.
I will take this moment to again express extreme disappointment in the lack of Patrice Wilson’s rap in Miss Black’s lackluster performance at the Hawthorne Theater.
All this aside, ARK is basically a place where rich L.A. parents can spend four grand to put their precious little princess in her very own music video.
Rebecca got thrown to the meat grinder early and luckily her video garnered millions of views giving her some clout. Good on her, for taking this early opportunity of exposure to try to build a career. However, in order to do that, she cannot just ignore her past. She must embrace it. Hone it. And, then, gradually graduate to the somber cover artist she is apparently rushing to be. If you want us to kick it in the front seat, you have to sit in the front seat with us Miss Black.
