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