Ke$ha

Pop music, like high school, is all about creating a persona and sticking with that table in the cafeteria. You’ve got to decide if you’re the straight-up hot chick (Beyoncé), the fragile yet tough chick (Rihanna), the girl next door (Taylor Swift), the crazy, attention-getting art chick (Lady Gaga). The former Kesha Rose Sebert was once just another aspiring singer-songwriter, doing backup vocals and shopping around her own music. Then, in rapid succession, she sang on Flo Rida’s smash “Right Round,” inserted an ironic dollar sign in the middle of her name and became an aspiring Pink – a femmey, rough rocker who might cut a bitch.

Despite the studious artifice of any successful pop artist’s image, there’s generally some kernel of credibility to it. Pink may be hardworking, nice Alicia Moore from Doylestown, but she probably really would cut a bitch. And somewhere under all of Lady Gaga’s wigs, one can clearly see Stefani Germanotta, piano-playing musical theater lover. Poor Ke$ha, on the other hand, didn’t just bomb out on “SNL” the other night — she revealed herself to be the Oakland of musical artists, a woman apparently without a there there.

But is she just a hollow vessel, an unfortunate collection of dance hooks and silly costumes? Maybe not. Despite the undeniable mediocrity of her “SNL” appearance, she’s also the woman who co-wrote the Veronicas’ “This Love,” which is a pretty delightful song. She’s an ambitious, even serious performer who’s said, “If you want to be a legitimate artist, it’s more important what you say no to,” claming no interest in being just “some sexpot.” 

So if Ke$ha’s songs and moves are just shy of terrible, well, have you watched Madonna’s “Everybody” lately? If Madge were a young unknown and did that number on late night right now, America’s eyeballs would start spontaneously bleeding in horror. Anybody remember how obnoxious the Beastie Boys were when they started out? Maybe Ke$ha, given her ambition and nascent abilities, will mature into a better artist and performer. Maybe she’ll just enjoy this sparkling moment of fame and recede from the limelight, becoming the next Linda Perry-type songwriter and producer. Or she’ll be like Aimee Mann and Robyn, singers who had fluke hits early on and roared back into smaller but successful — and critically acclaimed — musical careers in the ensuing years. Just because she sucked on Saturday doesn’t mean she’s the worst thing in music, ever. Because even people with No. 1 albums and dollar signs in their names deserve a chance to grow. 

Hmm, I must have missed the part where, as she says, “It is absurd to infer or suggest that I am condoning this behavior.” Maybe that comes across more in her mildly NSFW video (below). Let’s see.

(Four minutes later)

OK, maybe not.

Because from where I stand, it still looks like a song about getting raped — and liking it. I do, however, now also get the distinct impression Williams fully endorses glittery ass-shaking.

I’m as repulsed as the next person by the eternal douchebags who insist that you forfeit your right to say no after a few drinks — and even more bummed out when I hear girls spouting that tired rhetoric. (Maybe if we weren’t so quick to slut-shame young women for exercising their sexual freedom, alcohol’s power as a social lubricant would diminish somewhat. Just a thought.) But anyone who has, as Williams sings, done a youthful “walk of shame,” also knows that not every tequila-fueled booty call is an act of victimization. Williams has every right to express whatever she feels, including experiences that are as ambivalent and contradictory as certain commonplace sexual exploits. It isn’t the responsibility of an artist to never tackle subjects that are dangerous and taboo. As she asks, “Are Lady Gaga and Beyonce advocating murder with the ‘Telephone’ video? Of course not. Was Rihanna encouraging suicide with ‘Russian Roulette’? No.” (She’s absolutely correct — everybody knows “Telephone” is about healthcare reform.)

We may get a little unnerved by Eminem’s “Stan” or the Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl” — hell, I think that young lady Ke$ha should slow down — but if all songs were only about respectful, sober, mutually consensual experiences, there wouldn’t be much left in rock ‘n’ roll.  Music should make us think, and feel, and get outraged on a regular basis.

If, however,  you’re going to sing about having sex while you’re “blacked out” and call it “so good,” don’t insult women who actually have been sexually assaulted by claiming you did it “to bring attention to this frighteningly prevalent activity.” Because that sounds like one attention-getting, spectacular whopper of a lie.

The homage video is a Web classic; someday, entire college courses will be devoted to all the versions of “Single Ladies (Put a Ring On It).” (Post-feminism in the age of air-punching gyration: Discuss!) But for parents, there is something about the sight of a child cavorting around to a song that celebrates drunkenness, fighting and over-identifying with Diddy that gives one pause.

Suggestive lyrics and little ears are nothing new, and I say that with all the authority of someone who could do the full 17-minute version of “Love to Love You Baby” at 9. Anyone who’s grown up any time in the pop era and anywhere outside of Amish country probably has a similar story, and there’s a pretty good chance it involves a Prince song. Ergo, just like Avery, my own 10- and 6-year-old daughters can belt out the inappropriate dance hits with the best of them. Just yesterday they stopped me in my tracks at the supermarket by warbling along to “Sexy Bitch.” (We keep it pretty real at my supermarket.)

But where once the beyond-your-years pop culture aptitude merely mildly scandalized parents, kids now have the option of entertaining and/or appalling the multitudes. Anyone with a laptop can become a star — and that’s where it gets complicated. Is toothy, unself-conscious Avery’s lip-synced “TiK ToK” kind of adorable? Absolutely. Is it also a little disturbing, knowing a) her bedroom antics are out there for the world to see and b) her parents had to consent to this? Yep, that too. By putting herself out there, Avery is open to the geniuses who comment that “Wow you are a fucking annoying ugly brat” and “You know you want my cock.”

Based on her other videos, wherein she enthuses about the books she loves and does a full-on homage to farting, Avery seems a pretty grounded, funny kid. She’s like a lot of girls, including my own, in her exuberant eccentricity. Her vogueing for the camera bears little resemblance to Ke$ha’s grown-up, celebratory skankiness.

And that’s why her video is so unnerving, so surprisingly bittersweet. It’s not that she’s singing about brushing her teeth with a bottle of Jack; it’s the innocence with which she does it. (Though if you’re looking for disturbingly sexualized young video queens you don’t have to look far.) While Avery is self-aware enough to do a video hanging out alone in her room titled “Get a Life,” she — like every other little girl busting a move on YouTube — will soon be a young woman. By then, she’ll have already long figured out that she’s not just performing for herself here. She’ll understand that she is being watched, being scrutinized for her looks, her clothes, her glasses, her allure or her perceived lack thereof. Welcome to the rest of your life as a female, kid.

For now, though, she’s still just a little girl, playing in her room and blowing her speakers up. On her YouTube bio, she writes with heartening sagacity that “95% of kids laugh at other kids because they are different. Post this on your channel if you’re part of the 5% percent laughing at the other kids because they’re all the same.” Ke$ha may not be the world’s great role model, Avery, but every minute you keep laughing, you are.