It's not your fault, Rebecca Black!

Okay so anybody who has the internet-time to stumble upon this blog will have almost definitely seen Rebecca Black's infamous "Friday" song (and beautifully directed accompanying video). When I first found it i was rendered dumbfounded for a few minutes, before conforming with the rest of the world and joining in the mocking laughter. It is undoubtedly a ridiculously bad song, with virtually nothing like-able about it. Let this blog in no way imply that I condone this song in any shape or form. But a couple of nights ago, when procrastination was my top priority (thank you exams) I did a little youtube browsing, and found some interesting versions (backwards, sped up, chipmunked etc) of "Friday". I then figured that if I'd invested this much time, I might as well find out who this Rebecca Black is who fell so virally into our lives. It was on discovering a bit more about her that my opinion began to change.

That sounds misleading. That sounds like she's going to turn out to be some cancer-surviving genius who puts all her profits to blind orphans. I'm pretty sure she's just a dumb kid. But she is just a kid. A thirteen year old girl who's extravagant mother decided to give her the gift of a music video. "Friday" was produced AND written entirely by ARK music factory, and it cost Mrs Black $4000. Needless to say, there's no wonder not much effort went into the song. So Rebecca got a song to sing and a video to star in: a perfect present. Except the song sucked ass and she became infamous overnight. Imagine coming home one day after school, going on youtube to see if any more friends had seen your video, only to find a million people had seen it, and about 80% of them hated it and were laughing at you.

This is basically the same as a thirteen year old girl getting a photo-shoot for her birthday, only the photographers are crap and make all her pictures look horrible, and then somehow EVERYBODY finds out and starts laughing at her. You want to pick on someone pick on the dicks who took this girl's money and wrote her the worst song in the world.

Having said that, this whole thought process began because I heard that Simon Cowell was a fan of Rebecca Black, and controversial as he is, without a million and one years in the business, his opinion must have some value. Of course, the term "there's no such thing as bad press" didn't come from nowhere, and this girl has accidentally become one of the most famous thirteen-year-olds in the country. Give her a half decent song, a half decent singing lesson and some top of the range fake-ifying equipment and you have yourselves a number one. It's not really about who can sing anymore anyway; it's about who's famous. And Rebecca Black? You're famous. I think she got screwed out of a good present, but she's been noticed now, and I find it hard to believe we've seen the last of her. Simon's about to make his entrance.

Basically, Rebecca, I'm sorry, you're a victim in all this, and next time I have fun on a Friday (or indeed face a car-seat-related decision) I will be sure to think of you. (And on that subject you should wear like a hat or something that says your thirteen, because, you know, it's so hard to tell these days and you look like you could be at least, like, sixteen.)