The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Thursday, March 21, 2019 — 5

Until I installed an Apple 
TV, I was never into YouTube. 
Sure, every now and then, 
I turned to the platform to 
find an obscure song or clip 
of celebrity fights, but I was 
nowhere near familiar enough 
to recognize its burgeoning 
class of celebrity vloggers 
and personalities. Speaking 
candidly, I had no desire to. 
Although 
these 
YouTubers 
were known, in my snobbish 
fame-traditionalist eyes, they 
were not real celebrities.
It wasn’t until I learned 
that the same YouTubers I had 
written off as low-brow were 
not only amassing legions 
of fans, but also raking in 
millions of dollars that I began 
to feel ... behind the times. Is 
this how people who doubted 
the rise of the automobile 
felt? As a self-anointed pop 
culture connoisseur, this was 
unfamiliar territory. Normally, 
I am ahead of the tide or right 
on the money in predicting 
the 
rise 
of 
celebrities. 
I 
soon realized I could only 
track 
star-making 
along 
the pathways I was already 
familiar with: A reality show, 
a popular song, a breakout 
role in a successful movie, 
a promotion from recurring 
cast to main cast, a move from 
the center, human interest 
section of People Magazine 
to the cover, etc. Now, with 
celebrities 
materializing 
seemingly out of thin air, my 
proven theories couldn’t be 
applied the same way. I had no 
algorithm to explain the rise 
of a Vine star, or even more 
difficult, a former “Dance 
Moms” star. What was a David 
Dobrik? A Tana Mongeau? 
A Shane Dawson? A James 
Charles? A Hannah Meloche?
As much as I wanted to 
immerse myself in the culture 
of my contemporaries, I was 
too late. Alas, YouTube culture 
had already taken off without 
me. There were already eras 
I had not experienced, long-
standing beefs I didn’t have 
enough context to pick a side 
on. I could never catch up. It 
was as bad as downloading 
Twitter post-2014.
But then ... I met friends 
who were not puzzled by the 
Internet, and my whole world 
changed.
Through 
my 
YouTube-
savvy 
friends, 
I 
received 
a 
crash 
course 
in 
the 
platform’s teenage subculture 
(Disclaimer: 
I 
am 
just 
a 
19-year-old that is bad with 
technology, I am not a 45-year-
old Breitbart employee). It 
did not take long for me to 
associate the no-filter, low-
quality, high stakes drama of 
vlogger world with the age 
of early reality television — 
before the interfering hand 
of networks and producers 
left even the juiciest shows 
feeling scripted and flat. The 
world of YouTube provided 
a 
perfect 
hate-watching 
substitute, and I was hooked. 
Within 
a 
few 
months, 
I 
was able to detect that, like 
Hollywood, this world also 
came with clear hierarchies 
of clout and resultant power 
dynamics. I knew that A-list 

star David Dobrik and his 
“Vlog Squad” doing a video 
with 
everyone’s 
favorite 
fraud, Olivia Jade — a former 
C-lister — meant her come-
up was drawing nigh. Falling 
star James Charles beginning 
a collaboration squad with 
consistent fan favorites, the 
Dolan 
Twins, 
meant 
that 
he was trying to salvage 
whatever is left of his waning 
popularity. Most importantly, 
I was able to correctly infer 
that the undisputed queen of 
teenage YouTube is Emma 
Chamberlain.
If the 17-year-old’s name is 
unfamiliar to you, you are not 
alone. However, as I learned 
the hard way, it would be 
naive to write off her presence 
simply because she is most 
popular with teenagers too 
edgy to like “Riverdale.” The 
scope of her influence in 
YouTube culture is evidenced 
in widespread attempts of 
wannabe vloggers to imitate 
everything about her — from 
her unique editing style, to 
her dry sense of humor and 
of course, her unmistakable 
style. 
Chamberlain 
could 
be 
considered 
responsible 
for popularizing the Urban 
Outfitters 
“aesthetic” 
(teddy 
jacket, 
mom 
jeans, 
scrunchie, 
messy 
ponytail) 
for the younger population of 
Generation Z. She is rumored 
to be one-half of a power 
couple with other massively 
popular 
YouTuber, 
Ethan 
Dolan. Every vlogger wants to 
collaborate with her, few are 
able to.
Despite my usual aversion 
towards anyone revered by 
eighth graders, I found myself 
to be endeared and entertained 
by Chamberlain’s videos. She’s 
charming. She’s effortlessly 
cool. She’s real. It soon became 
clear 
that 
I 
was 
bearing 
witness to the rise of a new 
“It” girl. Yet, I had to question: 
How “It” could she truly be 
if she did not attain fame by 
traditional means? She was 
not an actress, not a model, not 
a singer, not an heiress and not 
the spawn of someone already 
famous. Could she ever garner 
the respect of the high brow 
that is intrinsic to “It” girl 
status? Would the day ever 
come when Anna Wintour 
gives Emma Chamberlain her 
seal of approval?
Of all the potential moments 
to experience an epiphany, it 
seems right that I experienced 
mine during Chamberlain’s 
awkward collaboration with 
none other than the laughing 
stock/overlord of the internet, 
Jojo Siwa. In the midst of an 
uncomfortable 
Jojo-themed 
makeover, in her signature 
self-deprecating 
manner, 
Chamberlain 
makes 
the 
joke that, in her comically 
oversized Jojo brand bow, she 
could definitely see herself 
being on the cover of Vogue. 
And although purely a joke 
in Emma’s eyes, when my 
friends and I paused the video 
on the doctored Vogue cover 
Emma inserted into the video, 
I could not help but see the 
fake cover as a premonition. 
A Vogue cover pretty much is 
the “golden ticket” to status. 
My friend said it best: “Give it 
five years.”
Initially, I had my doubts 

about 
the 
reality 
of 
her 
ascent to “It” girl status from 
YouTube — would enough 
people know who she is to 
concretely bestow her with 
this title? When you yourself 
are immersed in only YouTube 
for a while, it is easy to lose 
sight the scale of a YouTuber’s 
fame relative to established 
celebrity culture. The biggest 
YouTuber will still be smaller 
than the biggest name in 
Hollywood. To put things in 
perspective, consider the fact 
that while Emma has over 
seven million subscribers, she 
still does not have a Wikipedia 
page — many adults’ mental 
prerequisite for “real” fame. 
Adults 
are 
still, 
in 
many 
ways, 
gatekeepers 
to 
who 
can be considered a bona fide 
celebrity. Unlike the stars in 
the Nickelodeon and Disney 
machine, 
Emma 
does 
not 
have to bow to management 
and participate in synergy-
motivated daytime talk show 
appearances 
wherein 
her 
name and image is dispered to 
a middle-aged audience.
The 
possibility 
of 
the 
hypothetical 
Emma 
Chamberlain 
Vogue 
cover 
began to feel all the more real 
when I considered the fact 
that Chamberlain already has 
begun to capitalize on her 
influence with a successful 
clothing line inspired by her 
own looks. From there, the 
possibilities for her rise are 
limitless. Will she continue on 
the path of couture a la Mary 
Kate and Ashley Olsen? Will 
she expand her vlogs into a 
larger lifestyle brand? With 
print journalism clinging onto 
relevancy, it is not far-fetched 
to predict that some struggling 
Conde 
Nast 
publication 
will bring her aboard in a 
titleless 
“creative” 
position 
in order to nab the younger 
generation of readers. Emma 
Chamberlain will be the face 
that 
legitimizes 
YouTube 
celebrity. It’s only a matter of 
time before her brand evolves 
from trendy teen to chic street 
style, and that dear reader, is 
when you can send me a letter 
confirming that I told you so.
It is important to remember 
that one does not necessarily 
need to be mainstream to 
reach “It” status. In fact, 
mainstream 
recognizability 
could 
even 
be 
considered 
detrimental. It makes said 
star “safe.” True “It” girls 
have always retained an aura 
of cutting-edge alternativity 
that distinguishes them from 
“America’s 
Sweethearts” 
— the more palatable of the 
women we place on pedestals. 
Chamberlain’s 
avoidance 
of network and corporation 
control has given her an edge 
that the network girls cannot 
compete with: She can curse, 
she can talk about sex, she 
can be seen publicly with no 
makeup, etc. There are no 
consequences. Even without 
the assistance of a larger brand, 
she has been able to influence 
an entire sub-generation. She 
is her own management. I must 
question, in a few years, when 
Emma makes her inevitable 
rise to the top, will her victory 
signal entry into a new era of 
celebrity 
where 
YouTubers 
have a legitimate seat at the 
table?

ALLY OWENS
Daily TV Editor

Emma Chamberlain: Can 
a YouTuber be an ‘It Girl’?

YOUTUBE

TV NOTEBOOK

Sally Walker

Iggy Azalea

EMPIRE

MUSIC VIDEO REVIEW: 
‘SALLY WALKER’

Iggy Azalea’s long and 
illustrious career has been 
plagued by accusations of 
cultural 
appropriation 
as 
well as a perceived lack 
of 
artistic 
talent. 
These 
accusations are both very 
true, and she continues to 
prove them correct in her 
recently released video for 
her single “Sally Walker.” 
To summarize the video, 
it depicts Azalea rapping 
and 
generally 
looking 
good at the funeral of a 
woman 
— 
presumably 
one 
of 
her 
haters 
she 
discusses in the song —
who was hit by a car. This 
video, much like Azalea’s 
entire discography, is a 
simulacrum 
of 
Southern 
Black 
hip-hop 
culture 
bordering on caricature — a 
three-minute, 
eight-second 
span devoid of any originality 
or meaning.
The video does not do 
much to reassure viewers 

that Azalea has learned from 
her past lack of consideration 
to the space she occupies as 
a white person within the 
hip-hop 
community, 
even 
after being admonished by 
both Q-Tip and Talib Kweli 

for her flippant responses to 
valid concerns. Instead, she 
continues with her long-time 
strategy of creating ersatz, 
disrespectful 
garbage. 
You have to respect her 
dedication.
The song itself is bland 

and uninspiring, sounding 
less like a piece of artistic 
expression and more like 
the miserable output of a 
machine learning algorithm 
fed the last few years of 
chart-topping Southern hip 
hop. The lyrical focus of 
“Sally Walker” is on how 
great she is, a promise she 
has been making and failing 
to deliver for almost half a 
decade. I will give her credit 
where it is due — she is a 
competent thief. However, 
the studied nature of her 
imitation 
almost 
makes 
her cultural biting more 
egregious. 
Outside 
of 
a 
careful 
re-creation, 
she 
doesn’t really have much to 
bring to the table, and this 
video proves that.

— Jonah Mendelson, Daily 
Arts Writer

DEF JAM

Nadia Boulanger, the famous 
20th-century Parisian music 
pedagogue, was once asked how 
she determined if she would 
accept a potential student into 
her studio. At this point, she 
was the most famous music 
composition 
instructor 
in 
the world, and students were 
flocking to her home in hopes 
of 
studying 
with 
her. 
She 
explained that she asks every 
student if they could imagine 
living 
without 
music. 
She 
would only accept those into 
her studio who could not live 
without music — she wanted 
people willing to dedicate their 
lives to it.
While 
an 
undergraduate 
music student here at the 
University, I have had many 
professors speak to me about 
this mystical power of music. 
I’ve been told of the power of 
music to bring people together, 
to allow them to overcome their 
prejudices and understand each 
other on a more human level. 
I’ve heard the stories of sick 
people cured by music, of armies 
on the brink of war brought 
together through music.
But though I have frequently 
heard of this power, I’ve never 
understood it myself. I love 
music — both creating it and 
listening to it — and I can think 
of nothing that I would rather 
spend the rest of my life doing. 
But I’ve also always believed 
that I could live without it. 
Though it is beautiful, it is not 
essential.
Music, after all, is a form 
of 
entertainment. 
It 
can 
be 
incredibly 
moving 
and 
immensely powerful, but it is 
tangibly meaningless; vibrating 
air 
columns 
provoking 
sympathetic vibrations in our 
inner ear canal. It has no ability 
to substantially change the 
world around us; it can only 
change the world we hold inside 
us.
So as I’ve often asked myself, 
could I live without music? The 
events of this past weekend 
forced me to reconsider this 
question and the answer that 
I’ve long held to it. It is not 
a question of biology, I now 
understand, but a question of 
humanity. Boulanger is not 
asking if I could sustain my own 

life without music, but rather 
if I would lose some of my 
humanity if I lost music.
To explain how I reached 
this conclusion, I first must 
relate my experience of the 
active shooter alert from this 
past Saturday. I play bass in the 
Jazz Trombone Ensemble and 
the Jazz Trombone Quintet. 
We had a concert on Saturday 
between 4:45 and 5:15 — right in 
the middle of the crisis.
The concert was in the Moore 
Building up on North Campus, 

far away from the scene of the 
alleged crisis. In the minutes 
before we walked on stage, a 
few members of the Trombone 
Ensemble 
began 
receiving 
messages from friends about 
people running from the Diag. 
(Others had no idea what was 
going on, and they would not 
learn what was going on until 
after we performed.)
At first, those of us that were 
aware of the situation struggled 
with whether we should tell our 
bandmates and our professor. 
But the University’s official 
alert about this had not come 
out yet — we had no indication 
that the University considered 
this threat to be legitimate.
As I made eye-contact with 
a friend shortly before we both 
went on stage, I could tell that 
he had also gotten messages 
about what was going on. We 
were both scared, concerned 
and 
horrified. 
Should 
we 
continue to go on stage at this 
point? Was it appropriate for us 
to continue making music in the 
face of this potential tragedy?
I wavered a bit, unsure 
whether 
I 
could 
possibly 

continue to perform in the face 
of this potential tragedy. My 
friend, however, took a minute 
to gather himself before striding 
confidently onto the stage.
After five or 10 more seconds 
of indecision, I realized that 
I had to go out and perform 
as well. This was no longer a 
performance for class credit 
or 
performance 
experience. 
This concert was a means of 
expressing my thoughts in a 
manner that words would not 
allow — the only means I knew 
of to express how I felt about 
this alert.
For the first time in my life, 
I understood the incredible 
power of music. At the same 
time, I understood why music 
was so vital to my life, why 
there was absolutely no means 
by which I could ever live 
without music. In this moment, 
the abstract power of music was 
not a weakness; it was a virtue.
I was reminded of Leonard 
Bernstein’s famous quote on 
the role of music in troubling 
times. “This will be our reply to 
violence: To make music more 
intensely, 
more 
beautifully, 
more 
devotedly 
than 
ever 
before.”
I had always interpreted this 
quote to be an idealistic act of 
defiance. Making music was 
a means of proving to those 
who committed violence that 
they had not “won” — they 
had not scared musicians from 
continuing to make music and 
share with others.
But I now understand that 
this quote is not about defiance. 
It is about the awesome power 
of music. It is about the power 
to create connections between 
people. It is about the power to 
express in sound what cannot 
be expressed in words. And 
it is about the power to affect 
people’s emotions, to connect 
with 
them, 
share 
complex 
emotions 
with 
them 
and 
luxuriate in the beauty of this 
connection.
This is the power of music 
that all my professors have 
spoken about. This is the power 
that I never understood. And 
this is the power that Boulanger 
was asking her students about — 
the power that she believed we 
could not live without.

The power of music 

DAILY COMMUNITY CULTURE COLUMN

SAMMY 
SUSSMAN

