I catch occasional flak for being an avowed Rebecca Black fan. (Not as much as I catch for being a My Little Pony fan, but that’s another matter.) I usually argue something to the effect that for something resembling an authentic teenage experience, you might as well go to an actual teenager, and the four RB singles to date, even if she didn’t score much in the way of writing credits, come off as fun, non-angsty adolescent fun, something I could use more of in these days of morose pop.
But is she influential? “Not so much,” I’d have said, and then I saw this, um, remarkable whatever-it-is by Taylor freaking Swift. (I’d have done the embed, but it seems to load about fifteen different modules from all over the map, and it’s slower than a tax refund in May, so you’ll have to click for yourself if you want to see it.)
Sheesh. Rebecca Black could have sung this, were she not so insistent on making records that reflect the reality of her actual existence. And geez, it’s catchy. But it’s about as country as Katy Perry. (And is that a Kathy Beth Terry lookalike I see at the bar?)
Addendum: Speaking of Kathy Beth, Max Martin co-wrote both “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)” and that Swift thing.