To refresh your memory, it's this.
To refresh your memory further, I turn to the my fellow Internet trolls, who described her as:
"3 minutes and 48 seconds of pure, unadulterated ear-bleeding." (Manila Standard Today)
"An unremarkable, cheap, flash-in-the-pan pop song for kids who take High School Musical at face value." (NME)
"The cancer of pop music.....if lampooning 'Whip My Hair' was shooting fish in a barrel, 'Friday' is dropping a tactical nuke on a goldfish in a pop can." Radio Rant
The Week marveled at the "blotto-tuned gawkiness" her "pleading robot voice."
To sum, in the words of New York Fruit Stand, Ark Music Factory gave us
"The worst song in the history of songs. Gregorian chants have more merit in society...than this creepy synthetic girl and her song about Friday."And don't get me started on the song's author, the Ark Music Factory -- "Narcisissm, inc." being one of the friendlier nicknames, "8.6 on the Creepy Fuck scale" being one of the more vitriolic. Cracked commented that while "Ark Music Factory is probably not as bad as a sweatshop .... the end result is far, far more degrading and dehumanizing."
Which brings me to my real reason for returning to my blog, or rather three reasons: Lana Del Ray.
Lana Del Ray. You might know her as 2012's newest Internet sensation. You might know her by her birth name of Lizzy Grant. Hell, you might know her as a "self-styled, Gangsta Nancy Sinatra" -- but only if you've been talking solely to Lana Del Ray.
Lana Del Ray has inspired a similar level of delightfully erudite, searingly Dorothy Parker-esque Internet analysis. A quick review:
"Delivered in an Off-Broadway lisp that someone somewhere mistakenly regarded as erotic. She sounds like Napoleon Dynamite's brother." Spin Magazine
"Born to Die's wild swings between unqualified stunners and bizarre miscues provide no real answers...Is Lana the real deal, or the result of a misguided attempt to build the perfect femme fatale out of Nico's leather jacket and Nicki Minaj's wig?" EW.com
"...Half-rapped, half-sullen-pill-popped diva drones." Grimy Gods
"The album equivalent of a faked orgasm." Pitchfork.com
“A meandering, off-the-wall blitzkrieg. It’s her 'Friday': abhorrent but tuneful; a parasite awaiting your aural host." UWIRE
"Bad standup poetry, with enough plodding rhyme schemes to make Shakespeare roll over." Grimy Gods
"The product of unscrupulous corporate marketing, a rich brat swathed in Anthropologie, a gilded Rebecca Black, a phony-hipster Wicked Witch to be doused with bucketfuls of righteous indignation." Pretty Much Amazing
"The approximate vocal style here is Crushed-Out Schizo Coquette." Spin Magazine
So there you have it. Herman Cain couldn't bring me back to the web. Justin Beiber's Baby Daddy controversy couldn't bring me back to the web. Only the righteous indignation of Internet critics could inspire me to re-establish my own pathetic, navel-gazing presence. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, check out this amazing literature review of SATC critiques).
Like a modern-day moon landing, horrible Internet songs unite us around our computer screens. Sort of like Princess Di's wedding if it was universally hailed to be a "mind numbing trainwreck" "straight out of auto-tune hell."
Thank you Rebecca Black and Lana Del Ray. I have high hopes for 2012.
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