What Comes After Friday? Saturday, Of Course.

Just as the dust of ‘Friday’ cleared, Rebecca Black’s management tried every trick in the book to establish her as more than just a vaguely annoying viral sensation. Nothing, from […]


Just as the dust of ‘Friday’ cleared, Rebecca Black’s management tried every trick in the book to establish her as more than just a vaguely annoying viral sensation. Nothing, from appearing alongside Katy Perry, to recording a serious Alt-Pop effort, worked, so they’ve had to settle for Rebecca’s original, uncomfortable shoes as Youtube’s most hated teen sensation.

‘Saturday’ is more than just an annoyingly shambolic Pop record, though. It’s a post-modernist artwork. It’s references to the night before are simply metaphors for the hysteria that Friday provoked. Black tries to piece back together memories through song in much the same way as I did after first hearing ‘Friday’. Is this clever? No, no it isn’t.

If there’s one thing more annoying than a one-hit wonder doing their best to secure a second hit, it’s them playing on the success and, let’s not be coy about this, crapness of the original record rather than peacefully returning to the void of the cosmos for the rest of their existence.

I initially felt very sorry for Black, a puppet on the strings of a money-hungry industry, being forced to create yet more drivel themed around her monstrosity of a debut. I then looked around my tiny, filthy student flat and realised that I’m being an egotist again, and that I’d give my right bollock to have one crappy hit single.

At least Gotye (who’s first hit was, let’s be honest, brilliant) had the intelligence to leave our ears alone after his first major album turned out to be borderline unlistenable. At least A Flock of Seagulls never continuously bothered us about what they saw after they ‘ran so far away’. So, Miss Black, please kindly leave our ears alone and go back to working part time at a video arcade or whatever it is you American teenagers do. You’ve had your moment in the sun, let everyone else have theirs.

Don’t push for a second hit, don’t get engaged to a backing dancer, and DON’T go through a Miley Cyrus-style phase of bridging the gap between tween pop sensation and hooker. We’ll see you on Celebrity Rehab in 15 years when your alcohol problems spiral out of control.