Listen, I know as well as anyone that this is a basketball blog where we make dark, semi-literary vignettes about Richard Jefferson. Right now we're in the middle of documenting - to the possession - what happened to the Spurs against the Grizzlies, a complex, winding tour through marginal athletic advantage and its sometimes gigantic consequences in the legacy of professional athletics. I know all that.
But I just wanted to say that "Friday" by Rebecca Black is an alright song. It gets tons of bile towards it - somewhat justifiably, considering it's one of the simplest, most banal songs ever written, and doesn't say much of anything. It's entertainment at best. On the other hand, when did it pretend to be anything different? It's a melody, some lyrics, and a little bit of flashy image for teenagers. That's all it is, and if you're looking for more, then you're not going to find it.
But I mean, its melody is decent - one of those Gaga-esque "chants" that toe the rhythmic line between through-composed hymns and outright improvisational hip-hop. The singing is decent: surely no one is faulting Black for having a perfectly guileless, sugary-sweet voice, right? I suppose you could say that her vocals (if anything) are too innocent of malice, of even substance. But I mean, they hold up to every other form of scrutiny.
The lyrics are kind of substanceless too. I have friends and I wake up on Friday thinking about the weekend. This anticipation and the unique position of Friday in the calendar combine to make a similarly unique experience. That's basically it. Without substance, how could lyrics be appealing except for wit? Unfortunately the lyrics are short on wit, too, and are as descriptive as they are guileless. Even the bridge, which could be a brilliantly subversive way of telling an incredibly boring, literal truth, devolves into the boring, literal truth itself. "Oklahoma!" and "June is Bustin' Out All Over" by Rodgers and Hammerstein show how even something like the founding of a state, the spelling of a word, or the passing of months can be turned into a showpiece. But "Friday" fails in this respect.
And yet I can't help but think that these lyrics - for having no intrinsic merit - are a fantastic method for delivering the melody. As much as this may be derided among "serious" songwriters and critics, on some level lyrics are just as much about delivering the music as music is about delivering the lyrics. I hate when even a great songwriter puts so much stock into their brilliant lyrics that they neglect the music. Rebecca Black's "Friday" delivers better than any of these would-be poets. Don't get me wrong, Elvis Costello is a genius. "The Other Side of Summer" (just off the top of my head) puts this entire discussion to shame. But without a melody - without a vessel for his lyrics - even a brilliant lyricist does nothing, and that's the truth. It's why when you have the best MCs of all time, like Tupac, Jay-Z, Rakim, and Guru, the limiting factor then becomes the quality of their DJs. Check it: The best MCs are (maybe definitionally) about as good as their DJs, and - in a weird sort of symmetry - the best DJs of all time have as limiting factor the quality of their MCs. Speaking of which, the "random rapper" (as rapgenius puts it) Patrice Wilson does a lot of good work with prosody and rhythm in his short section. Even without lyrical substance, he still manages to put something substantive musically out there.
Overall, if you're looking for a repeatable experience, "Friday" is harmless enough - mere white noise on a radio filled with noise that is a little more substantive. But come on, how often is the marginal substance of music yet another amelodic lament for lost love, a codeword for an attractive singer or a secretly filthy concept, a cheap and arbitrary vessel for a chiptune backing track, or another nasal voice autotuned into homogeneity? I'm not bitter about the state of modern music (hardly) or even of the mainstream hits (all other stations benefit from nostalgia and filtration, and filling the hours isn't cheap or easy), but "Friday," even bereft of substance, finds itself at a cool median on modern hit stations - not too bad, not too good. If it gets overplayed (which it does), that's a problem with the delivery of hits, not with the song itself. Don't hate the player, hate the game.
It's just fine, you guys. And now, I've alienated at least one of my two remaining readers. Heh.
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