Avril Lavigne's 2002 explosion into pop youlth culture's consciousness drew an immediate line in the sand in terms of music listeners who elevated her as an authentic anti-pop savior and those with Discerning Tastes who questioned that authenticity. On a musical level (at least on "Sk8er Boi," and being only familiar with her big singles, this post will not delve into album tracks, which may be short-sighted, though singles generally are the basis of public perception anyway), Lavigne certainly has the propulsion of punk, if not the brevity--someone needs to tell her that punk doesn't have much need for bridges. (Attitudinally-speaking, Lavigne has punk down, because "punk" now seems a meaningless concept/construct, entirely aesthetic, and wasn't part of punk always a fashion statement anyway? Ties on tanks punk rawk!) Judged purely on a production level, Lavigne's use of pop songwriting/production team The Matrix sands down any edges of "punkness" that Lavigne so obviously (some would say desperately) trots out as a prop and crutch, considering her presentation as A Real Artist, "the anti-Britney." This itself is an ironic piece of rockism on Lavigne's part, and gets to a core issue at work on her singles: a struggle with identity.
In many ways, Lavigne's three most iconic singles are specifically teenage in that they are concerned with ideas of Realness, and part of what plagues the melodic charms of these songs is that they are bogged down by the absolutism of teenagerdom, this dogmatic idea of identity as severely dichotomous: real vs. fake, cool vs. uncool.
"Complicated," first of all, is much more faux-country than faux-punk, right down to the odd pronunciation and poor phrasing/breath control that makes her sound vaguely like a yodeling Jewel in certain sections. She does a nicely sarcastic posh accent on "Strike a pose," though I'm not sure that's intentional. The real lyrical assault on identity comes in the next line when Lavigne implores to her complicated beau, "Take off all your preppy clothes," which would sound like an incredible invitation were it not for the lyric setting up her disgust with his inauthentic posturing. Also: Lavigne's sneer on this line, which manages to sound both bitchy and chaste at the same time.
The best part of the song comes at the end of the chorus when Lavigne, like the know-it-all teen she was, sings in a lovely melodic rush "Life's like this: you/you fall and you crawl/and you break and you take/what you get/and you turn it into/Honesty/Promise me I'm never gonna find you fake it" (unless she sings "fakin'," which makes more linguistic sense--what is "it"?--or "vacant"--which would be a nice homage to the Sex Pistols, but that's too assumptive--or oddly, "Vegas," which is what it sounds like at the end, and Vegas certainly is fake but that symbolism is a too-outré lyrical flourish for Lavigne, who is generally a straight-shooter), which is difficult to parse and even doing so, doesn't make a lick of sense. What is problematic is both the reductiveness of the characterization as well as the assumption that the boy is faking--maybe he was faking being a "punk" (or whatever) because his girlfriend was so snotty about upholding stereotypes and creating boundaries amongst different sectors of society. The song's fascism is off-putting, which is a shame, because the melody is quite pretty. "Complicated" seems really petty in the wake of Liz Phair's "Why Can't I," another Matrix production which recalls the melody but serves it well with a simpler teenage sentiment of You're-so-beautiful-I'm-in-love-it's-scary. And better singing, which is almost never something you can say about Phair.
"Sk8er Boi" followed, and cemented her anti-(whatever it is) stance. As a piece of music it's giddy and effervescent, possibly her purest sonic playground and the melody comes fun and fast. Lyrically, however, Lavigne combines the identity fascism of "Complicated" with a positively catty and wholly unnecessary attack on another girl. The song again concerns punk vs. prep, wherein a punk skater boy (whatever) is in love with a ballet girl (which, in Lavigne's world automatically makes her a prep and The Enemy) who loves him back, but in secret, because Society Will Not Stand It! Or something. All her friends laugh at him so she caves to societal pressure and lets him go, or doesn't do anything in the first place (the songwriting is unclear). This is straight up Shakespearean tragedy and Lavigne treats at as an opportunity to go Nyah-nyah. The chorus's ire seems misdirected at Ballet Girl, as "He wasn't good enough for her...She needed to come back down to earth" is a little dishonest; the blame is on her friends, not her! She caved, which makes her weak, but it does not make her a snob.
It only gets cattier and more wrong-headed from there. The narrative flashes forward five years where Ballet Girl is now a pathetic single mother (hey, way to mock her situation, Avril!) watching TV when Skater Boy comes on with his band. She calls up all her friends and they all go watch him as she laments ever turning him down (wait--so all the friends who were laughing at him because of his "punk" appearance are now "punk" fans? Okay.) And then Lavigne brags that the boy--or man--is hers, and together they write a song about a stupid girl who once dismissed him (meta!). It's a perfectly teenage sentiment--and beautiful in its way, but entirely wish-fulfillment--to parade your success in front of those who mocked you, but if forgiveness and compassion (she became a single mother for Chrissake!) are better than spite and vengeance, I'd say Lavigne errs on the side of immaturity here, especially considering Ballet Girl didn't even do anything wrong aside from not paying heed to her own feelings due to societal concerns (in this case this really makes her a Sirkian heroine if anything). If you can manage to not be offended by the braggadocious mockery of others less fortunate than yourself and your super awesome rock star boyfriend, there are some great moments to be had, especially how she ecstatically sings "Rockin' up MTV!" and "We rock each other's world!" ("world" again starts to sound like a Jewel yodel).
Lavigne's recent single "Girlfriend" is five years and a marriage removed from the opening one-two punch of "Complicated" and "Sk8er Boi," but Lavigne's maturity level is still firmly entrenched in vengeful teenagerisms. Lyrically, Lavigne plays down the punk vs. preppy identity struggle (though it is in fine display in the nearly intolerable video) but amps up the misogyny of "Sk8er Boi." The chutzpah is admirable; if "Sk8er Boi" could be described in any manner as subtle, then "Girlfriend" is a full-scale attack with it's rah-rah "Hey hey you you I don't like your girlfriend." It may be perfectly archetypal teenage girl, and yaya sisterhoodism is probably pretty tired, but the idea that desire for a boy should make another girl an automatic enemy seems ludicrous and sad, as well as incredibly stereotypical.
It seems impossible to divorce the song from the video, because there is a remarkable tension that arises when the two clash. In the video, Punk Girl manages to steal Totally Average-Looking Boy from Preppy Girl by basically disrupting TALB and Prep's perfectly innocent date of Go-Kart and mini-golf, and in the end Punk and TALB get together while Prep quite literally has gone to shit (a howlingly offensive piece of slapstick). The hubris of the video is interesting because it matches the persona of the song, but not the song itself. The song itself is nearly vulnerable, because the protagonist actually has not stolen away the boy, and is nearly begging for the chance ("I think about you all the time," "I want to be your girlfriend") while the second verse is kind of sadly delusional ("I see the way you look at me"), and somehow sounds even more dishonest than the rest of the song, which is inherently dishonest and cynical.
It is a beautifully constructed pop song that is also amazingly vapid, and completely at-odds with Lavigne's Anti-Everything Rebel Punk persona. She even does a choreographed dance in the video! Which is what makes the persona--which bleeds into the song's lyrics and narrative and consumption--disagreeable and ruinous to the actual songs, because in the quest for truth and authenticity it reveals itself as fake and pose. At the very least, pop music that portrays itself as pop music doesn't lie, and the pleasures of that honesty are far greater than the deceit that comes from masking your true intent and character under rhetoric that isn't even built on a solid foundation to begin with (and yes I realize the dismissive use of "rhetoric" is ironic, considering my dissection of a pop song). If Courtney Love's immortal line was "I fake it so real I am beyond fake," then Lavigne's should be the inverse except she lacks the self-awareness to even attempt such an impossible lyric.
The persona is a shame because it gets in the way of the generally well-crafted tunes, and also because there is a hint of vulnerability when she isn't swaggering about for no good reason. Her two great mushy ballads are far more honest statements and therefore are more effective songs in the long run, even if the sonic pleasures aren't as high. As video and song, "I'm With You" manages to steal from Fiona Apple's "Never Is A Promise" as well as the pilot episode of My So-Called Life wherein Angela Chase gets knocked into mud while at some terrible show in someone's backyard, as well as the same series's use of Juliana Hatfield as a guardian angel. Even better is "My Happy Ending," which takes Bushwickian locales as the backdrop for deserted isolation, and with a twinkly piano and bombastic melodramatic chorus, Lavigne comes across less like "You Oughta Know"-era Alanis and more Steinman-singing Celine (with some bite), and is served far better for it. Dropping the sneer--which is inherently exclusive--allows a semblance of humanity in Lavigne, and is far more welcoming for it. And lo and behold! At the end of the "My Happy Ending" video, Lavigne, having nothing more to do with the boy, ends up walking down the street, propped up by some supportive girlfriends. Nice to see the "one of the boys" attitude forsaken at least once, even if it is for reactionary purposes. Canadian maternalism never felt so good.
Harsh........
Posted by: Wow | 03/18/2008 at 10:11 PM
avril lavigne and identity
Avril Lavigne's 2002 explosion into pop youlth culture's consciousness drew an immediate line in the sand in terms of music listeners who elevated her as an authentic anti-pop savior and those with Discerning Tastes who questioned that authenticity. On a musical level (at least on "Sk8er Boi," and being only familiar with her big singles, this post will not delve into album tracks, which may be short-sighted, though singles generally are the basis of public perception anyway), Lavigne certainly has the propulsion of punk, if not the brevity--someone needs to tell her that punk doesn't have much need for bridges. (Attitudinally-speaking, Lavigne has punk down, because "punk" now seems a meaningless concept/construct, entirely aesthetic, and wasn't part of punk always a fashion statement anyway? Ties on tanks punk rawk!) Judged purely on a production level, Lavigne's use of pop songwriting/production team The Matrix sands down any edges of "punkness" that Lavigne so obviously (some would say desperately) trots out as a prop and crutch, considering her presentation as A Real Artist, "the anti-Britney." This itself is an ironic piece of rockism on Lavigne's part, and gets to a core issue at work on her singles: a struggle with identity.
In many ways, Lavigne's three most iconic singles are specifically teenage in that they are concerned with ideas of Realness, and part of what plagues the melodic charms of these songs is that they are bogged down by the absolutism of teenagerdom, this dogmatic idea of identity as severely dichotomous: real vs. fake, cool vs. uncool.
"Complicated," first of all, is much more faux-country than faux-punk, right down to the odd pronunciation and poor phrasing/breath control that makes her sound vaguely like a yodeling Jewel in certain sections. She does a nicely sarcastic posh accent on "Strike a pose," though I'm not sure that's intentional. The real lyrical assault on identity comes in the next line when Lavigne implores to her complicated beau, "Take off all your preppy clothes," which would sound like an incredible invitation were it not for the lyric setting up her disgust with his inauthentic posturing. Also: Lavigne's sneer on this line, which manages to sound both bitchy and chaste at the same time.
The best part of the song comes at the end of the chorus when Lavigne, like the know-it-all teen she was, sings in a lovely melodic rush "Life's like this: you/you fall and you crawl/and you break and you take/what you get/and you turn it into/Honesty/Promise me I'm never gonna find you fake it" (unless she sings "fakin'," which makes more linguistic sense--what is "it"?--or "vacant"--which would be a nice homage to the Sex Pistols, but that's too assumptive--or oddly, "Vegas," which is what it sounds like at the end, and Vegas certainly is fake but that symbolism is a too-outré lyrical flourish for Lavigne, who is generally a straight-shooter), which is difficult to parse and even doing so, doesn't make a lick of sense. What is problematic is both the reductiveness of the characterization as well as the assumption that the boy is faking--maybe he was faking being a "punk" (or whatever) because his girlfriend was so snotty about upholding stereotypes and creating boundaries amongst different sectors of society. The song's fascism is off-putting, which is a shame, because the melody is quite pretty. "Complicated" seems really petty in the wake of Liz Phair's "Why Can't I," another Matrix production which recalls the melody but serves it well with a simpler teenage sentiment of You're-so-beautiful-I'm-in-love-it's-scary. And better singing, which is almost never something you can say about Phair.
"Sk8er Boi" followed, and cemented her anti-(whatever it is) stance. As a piece of music it's giddy and effervescent, possibly her purest sonic playground and the melody comes fun and fast. Lyrically, however, Lavigne combines the identity fascism of "Complicated" with a positively catty and wholly unnecessary attack on another girl. The song again concerns punk vs. prep, wherein a punk skater boy (whatever) is in love with a ballet girl (which, in Lavigne's world automatically makes her a prep and The Enemy) who loves him back, but in secret, because Society Will Not Stand It! Or something. All her friends laugh at him so she caves to societal pressure and lets him go, or doesn't do anything in the first place (the songwriting is unclear). This is straight up Shakespearean tragedy and Lavigne treats at as an opportunity to go Nyah-nyah. The chorus's ire seems misdirected at Ballet Girl, as "He wasn't good enough for her...She needed to come back down to earth" is a little dishonest; the blame is on her friends, not her! She caved, which makes her weak, but it does not make her a snob.
It only gets cattier and more wrong-headed from there. The narrative flashes forward five years where Ballet Girl is now a pathetic single mother (hey, way to mock her situation, Avril!) watching TV when Skater Boy comes on with his band. She calls up all her friends and they all go watch him as she laments ever turning him down (wait--so all the friends who were laughing at him because of his "punk" appearance are now "punk" fans? Okay.) And then Lavigne brags that the boy--or man--is hers, and together they write a song about a stupid girl who once dismissed him (meta!). It's a perfectly teenage sentiment--and beautiful in its way, but entirely wish-fulfillment--to parade your success in front of those who mocked you, but if forgiveness and compassion (she became a single mother for Chrissake!) are better than spite and vengeance, I'd say Lavigne errs on the side of immaturity here, especially considering Ballet Girl didn't even do anything wrong aside from not paying heed to her own feelings due to societal concerns (in this case this really makes her a Sirkian heroine if anything). If you can manage to not be offended by the braggadocious mockery of others less fortunate than yourself and your super awesome rock star boyfriend, there are some great moments to be had, especially how she ecstatically sings "Rockin' up MTV!" and "We rock each other's world!" ("world" again starts to sound like a Jewel yodel).
Lavigne's recent single "Girlfriend" is five years and a marriage removed from the opening one-two punch of "Complicated" and "Sk8er Boi," but Lavigne's maturity level is still firmly entrenched in vengeful teenagerisms. Lyrically, Lavigne plays down the punk vs. preppy identity struggle (though it is in fine display in the nearly intolerable video) but amps up the misogyny of "Sk8er Boi." The chutzpah is admirable; if "Sk8er Boi" could be described in any manner as subtle, then "Girlfriend" is a full-scale attack with it's rah-rah "Hey hey you you I don't like your girlfriend." It may be perfectly archetypal teenage girl, and yaya sisterhoodism is probably pretty tired, but the idea that desire for a boy should make another girl an automatic enemy seems ludicrous and sad, as well as incredibly stereotypical.
It seems impossible to divorce the song from the video, because there is a remarkable tension that arises when the two clash. In the video, Punk Girl manages to steal Totally Average-Looking Boy from Preppy Girl by basically disrupting TALB and Prep's perfectly innocent date of Go-Kart and mini-golf, and in the end Punk and TALB get together while Prep quite literally has gone to shit (a howlingly offensive piece of slapstick). The hubris of the video is interesting because it matches the persona of the song, but not the song itself. The song itself is nearly vulnerable, because the protagonist actually has not stolen away the boy, and is nearly begging for the chance ("I think about you all the time," "I want to be your girlfriend") while the second verse is kind of sadly delusional ("I see the way you look at me"), and somehow sounds even more dishonest than the rest of the song, which is inherently dishonest and cynical.
It is a beautifully constructed pop song that is also amazingly vapid, and completely at-odds with Lavigne's Anti-Everything Rebel Punk persona. She even does a choreographed dance in the video! Which is what makes the persona--which bleeds into the song's lyrics and narrative and consumption--disagreeable and ruinous to the actual songs, because in the quest for truth and authenticity it reveals itself as fake and pose. At the very least, pop music that portrays itself as pop music doesn't lie, and the pleasures of that honesty are far greater than the deceit that comes from masking your true intent and character under rhetoric that isn't even built on a solid foundation to begin with (and yes I realize the dismissive use of "rhetoric" is ironic, considering my dissection of a pop song). If Courtney Love's immortal line was "I fake it so real I am beyond fake," then Lavigne's should be the inverse except she lacks the self-awareness to even attempt such an impossible lyric.
The persona is a shame because it gets in the way of the generally well-crafted tunes, and also because there is a hint of vulnerability when she isn't swaggering about for no good reason. Her two great mushy ballads are far more honest statements and therefore are more effective songs in the long run, even if the sonic pleasures aren't as high. As video and song, "I'm With You" manages to steal from Fiona Apple's "Never Is A Promise" as well as the pilot episode of My So-Called Life wherein Angela Chase gets knocked into mud while at some terrible show in someone's backyard, as well as the same series's use of Juliana Hatfield as a guardian angel. Even better is "My Happy Ending," which takes Bushwickian locales as the backdrop for deserted isolation, and with a twinkly piano and bombastic melodramatic chorus, Lavigne comes across less like "You Oughta Know"-era Alanis and more Steinman-singing Celine (with some bite), and is served far better for it. Dropping the sneer--which is inherently exclusive--allows a semblance of humanity in Lavigne, and is far more welcoming for it. And lo and behold! At the end of the "My Happy Ending" video, Lavigne, having nothing more to do with the boy, ends up walking down the street, propped up by some supportive girlfriends. Nice to see the "one of the boys" attitude forsaken at least once, even if it is for reactionary purposes. Canadian maternalism never felt so good.
allright!!!!!!
Posted by: Siena Mae Santos | 01/13/2010 at 09:44 AM