Kesha

Freedom’s Just Another Word for a Complete Lack of Parenting: Kesha – “Tik Tok”

Kesha Tik Tok

We start out with some skeezy-looking girl waking up in a bathtub, and it’s clear that she’s not really sure where she might be. (Don’t start judging at this point. If you have any sense of adventure, there’s been at least one time when you’ve snoozed in a place that wasn’t necessarily designed for slumber.) Eventually home-girl realizes that maybe this isn’t her own bathtub and there might be some type of penalty associated with what she did or didn’t do the previous evening, so she hops out of the cleansing station and proceeds to do some damage control.

First on her agenda? Marching over to the nearby vanity, plucking up one of the anonymous toothbrushes that previously did not contain any of her DNA, and then proceeds to “brush my teeth with a bottle of jack.” Then she waves her ghetto-painted toenails in front of the camera, because it seems like a fun thing to do when you’re a pop star and have your own personal cinematographer, and then she slips on a pair of cowboy boots and little else. (This is probably the part where you can start judging.)

So right away we know we’re dealing with a quality kind of girl, here. Top drawer. Or should I say top shelf? Kesha marches out of the bathroom with some swagger going on (because everyone is essentially self-absorbed until they are at least 30), and she quickly jacks with some pictures of a nice family that are hanging on the walls. Her disrespect of memorabilia is supposed to help us understand that she really doesn’t care about anybody or anything, but I think we grasped her lack of morality starting with the “waking up in a bathtub” bit.

Then she wanders down a flight of stairs in the house, singing about “boys blowing up my phone” and “trying to get a little bit tipsy”. Little bit? Honey, you look like you left “little bit” about five miles back. After you smothered it with a pillow.

She wanders into a breakfast room, where the family from the hanging pictures she violated is just trying to get some nutrition and worship Jesus. Her sudden appearance causes the mom to drop a plate of pancakes, an obvious sign that Satan has just arrived in the suburbs and the Apocalypse can’t be far behind. This is the natural reaction of ignorant folk who have never watched anything other than Fox News.

Kesha then sashays outside the Mormon Tabernacle Condo and decides to steal a bicycle that has been blinged-out in 2-carat gold, because we all know that jewel-encrusted conveyances can easily be found near cheaply-built domiciles in a neighborhood near you. Kesha then rides the bling over to a conveniently-nearby group of wholesome kids who just want to play with balloons and not become ensnared by unexpected pregnancies. But Our Lady of Tawdry Deception quickly convinces them that you really need a pimped-out ride if you’re going to make it anywhere in this world, and the youngsters embrace her vision with startling expediency.

Next up, due to some clearly unfocused editing, we have Kesha looking all trashy while sitting on a curb in front of some wall, while she sings (if you can call it singing) about how all boys want her because “I’ve already got beer and I’m already here.” Then some dudes drive up and pile out, having heard about the beer, and they all look like “beer” is the longest word they can spell.

But Kesha is fine with their potential shortcomings, indicating that her mother may have already prepared her for the reality of marriage, and she quickly jumps in the car with the most redneck member of the posse, and they take off, driving around. Kesha starts singing about “don’t touch my junk,” but this directive is a bit hard to follow when Kesha is bouncing around and thrusting her junk from here to Encino. Sooner or later the sheer gravitational pull of the Earth will result in some junk-touching.

Then the po-po pull the two over, and at first it doesn’t look like a very promising as Kesha is thrown over the hood of the pimp-mobile and forced into a pair of handcuffs. Of course, this is done in a slutty way so we basically get a PG-13 gander at Kesha’s junk that she’s been singing about all along. (Product Placement 101.) And the ease with which Kesha “assumes the position” makes it very obvious that she has sprawled across a few turbo-charged machines in her day.

Next thing you know, Kesha and Redneck are zipping along the highways again, so either the po-po are really bad at their job, or they got hired for a promising pilot that is shooting on the next soundstage and they had to be written out of the script. This is never made clear. What is clear is that Kesha is able to party in the Redneck’s car by standing up through the sunroof and bouncing her ta-tas around in a psychotic frenzy. Kesha also makes a lot of hand gestures to clarify that she is really proud of herself, in case you hadn’t figure that out yet.

Then, suddenly, the car is gone, and Kesha is in some weird, stone-walled room where she appears to be wearing animal fur (PETA alert!) while little bits of something sprinkle down around her. She’s waving her hands around above her head like a really bad witch doctor that forgot to read the training manual and she has to do something interesting to keep her teenage fans voodoo clients from asking for their money back.

This goes on for a while, indicating that the director went AWOL for a bit (surely drugs were not involved in any way) and the remaining crew had to just make things up to kill time. Out of desperation, they bring in a wind machine, and they instruct Kesha to lay on her back and thrust her feet into the air, which I guess means that Kesha is aroused by wind, stone walls, chunky confetti, the possible appearance of a Sleestak from “The Land of the Lost” and the ability to raise her arms and wave them about.

Then we’re transported to a nightclub, where Kesha informs us that “the party don’t start till I walk in.” Really? And what party is that? The “Blowing Smoke Up Your Own Ass” Party? Let me know who your candidate is in the next election, so when I go vote (are you familiar with what that means?) I can be sure to rip his or her name off the ballot and use the strip of paper to light something up at the next Burning Man Festival.

Kesha dances all over this place, with her messy hair and runny mascara, apparently not realizing that Madonna perfected this art form in 1984. We know it’s a real quality establishment, because people are drinking their adult beverages from plastic red cups, always a sign that no expense has been spared. The loser redneck from the mysteriously-aborted run-in with the po-po is in the club, so I guess Kesha is a little sweet on him, even though she keeps singing about how there won’t be any junk-touching.

She keeps dancing. And as she gyrates around and we get a better look at this place, I’m seeing things that make me wonder if this is just somebody’s living room. There’s a mid-80’s ceiling fan and some very ugly couches, the kind that will never be snatched up by junk collectors who troll your neighborhood during the week when the city collects Bulky Trash from your curb. What was the budget on this video, anyway? Amazing as it may seem, said budget was apparently lower than the average teacher’s salary in the United States. I didn’t think it was possible to get under that figure.

We have lots more dancing and runny mascara, with Kesha eventually working her way to the Redneck and possibly offering her junk after all, which is kind of sweet but nowhere near as inspiring as Samantha and Jake sharing cake at the end of “16 Candles”. Just to make sure that the jaded teen viewers grasp the concept of finding love in all the wrong places, we are presented with more chunky confetti falling down on the jailbird lovebirds whilst people pass out around them.

Final scene shows Kesha, trashed and missing some footwear, giggling in a bathtub and settling in for another night. She’s picked up an American flag somewhere, which she’s using as a sweatband or some such on her right ankle. Such a touch of class. Then she presumably goes into an alcoholic coma, where visions of sugar rums dance in her head and she actually believes that she is a role model for the youth of America.

Good gawd.

Parents, send your girls to strict boarding schools with plenty of barbed-wire and severe nuns that resort to whacking people with rulers. It’s not pretty, and there are surely some Constitutional violations in the mix, but it’s got to have better results than this….

 

Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

Originally published on 12/07/09, revised and updated with extra flair for this post.

Finding Jesus at Burning Man: Kesha – “Your Love Is My Drug”

Kesha Your Love Is My Drug

 

Wow, they sure didn’t spend any money on this thing.

Anyway, we start out with some close-up shots of Kesha’s various body parts because she’s all about “her art” and isn’t a tramp at all. She’s waking up way out in the desert some place, because this is where you have to live when people get a little tired of hearing you on the radio. She’s apparently using some guy’s stomach as a pillow as she sleeps off the shame of whatever they might have just finished doing. Or maybe she just tripped and fell on a homeless person because, well, it seems like something she might do.

Kesha awakens and/or realizes that her drink is empty, and she takes a closer look at the guy, startled to discover that he’s wearing a nasty headband, which is a sure sign of trouble. She leaps to her feet and runs away across the sand. I’m guessing she doesn’t remember his name and she’s trying to avoid any social awkwardness. (Wait a minute. Maybe it’s just me, but that homeless guy seems to have a Jesus flair to him. What kind of story are we trying to tell here?)

Next thing you know, Kesha is riding an elephant and wearing a bonnet that she stole from the Statue of Liberty. That’s a rather vague concept that the director might have misjudged, so we cut to a tight shot on Kesha’s boots as she staggers through the desert. The heat makes her burst into song (“Maybe I’m ready for some rehab.” Ya think?), and she waves her arms like she really wanted to be in the high-school flag corps but things got in her way, like not actually going to high school.

Oh wait, there she is on the elephant again, followed by her sporting a tiger mask and assuming a squat-like position. (She likes zoos? She likes to hunt game? She’s practicing for Burning Man?) Then we have several shots of her Native American jewelry as she twirls around and can’t keep still, singing about her inability to stop banging her head against the wall. I’m not a physician or a neurologist, but the head-banging is probably not advisable. There are other hobbies you can pursue. Check out Pinterest.

Now she seems to have made up with the Pillow Jesus Man, because he’s back in the picture and they hold hands while a fan blows somewhere off to the side. More animal references, wild arm movements, and clunky jewelry that has GOT to be on her nerves by now. She weighs about 40 pounds. How is she managing to stay on her feet with all the wind and accessories?

Then they start screwing around with a kaleidoscope or something, because we suddenly have six refracted images of Kesha as she prances around in the sand. This unnerves me somewhat, because I don’t think the world needs six of her. But she keeps dancing anyway, delighting in the concept of an army of her body parts conquering the planet. This is probably the same vision that Ayn Rand had as she began writing her self-absorbed novels.

Elephant again.

Oh, now she and Jesus are in a boat. She’s being really rude and jumping around while he tries to row them back to the Garden of Eden or maybe a place where bushes burn. Then again, I guess it doesn’t really matter how obnoxious she’s being, because there’s not any water and they aren’t actually moving. Kesha makes a reference to a “lovesick crackhead” and I officially quit trying to determine the plot.

Good move on my part, because they’re still in the boat, but now some unregulated artist is messing around with the film, using crayons to create water and buoys and giant crabs. Kesha reacts to the added décor by… I don’t what she’s doing. Pointing is involved, and wiggling around in Daisy Dukes. Then a giant cartoon wave covers up the boat, and I’m hoping the video is over so I can go somewhere quiet and ponder the life choices I have made that led me to reviewing this video.

Nope, it’s not over. Now we’re in an underwater cartoon world, where the fish have human faces and they are singing. (Well, that just ruined Sea World for me.) The oddities continue, with a nearly naked man covering his harmonica with an absurdly-long beard, carnivorous fish that turn into mermaids, and a general theme that life in the ocean can kill you. That’s nice. Make the budding youth of the world fear aquatic settings, assuming that their short attention spans can encompass such a concept. Thanks, Kesha.

And we’re back in the desert, where Kesha is struggling to escape some evil cargo netting that she apparently got tangled in during the chorus. She flails a bit, but she’s really not trying that hard and I don’t feel especially sorry for her. Besides, doesn’t she have an assistant that can just cut that damn thing off of her? Girl, where is your entourage when you need them? I guess even rock stars have trouble with the help.

Then we start jumping around, with more shots of Kesha lamely trying to fight off the Net of Death (twirling and trying to fly seem to be her signature defense moves), Kesha and Jesus standing on some big rocks and waiting for additional Commandments that might possibly be delivered, and the realization that Kesha has a fondness for sand being smeared all over her body, especially when her cheek is accented by turquoise streaks. I’ll just assume that she has different life goals than I do.

As Kesha sings about having a slumber party in her basement (just say no, kids), we are treated to images of Kesha in an outfit splattered with day-glo paint, cavorting with more boulders and an unexplained snake. (Is this a reference to music company executives? Discuss amongst yourselves.) Whatever her intentions, Kesha apparently feels very sultry when she’s flopping around under a black light, and she does her best to portray a streetwalker in an excised scene from the old-school movie Tron. (Two points for the bold neon line running directly into her lower cleavage. Nothing says class like painting a landing strip on your body.)

We head back to the cartoon world, with animals mutating and a giant billboard to remind us what the name of this song is. The graphics and imagery hint of a tribute to Sergeant Pepper and/or the Beatles, but really, how is Kesha going to get that reference? (She was only born about 20 minutes ago, decades after the Beatles owned the world with trippy, thoughtful compositions.) This montage is clearly the work of an art director with OCD, a fondness for hemp, and a membership in the AARP.

Now it’s night time in the desert, and Kesha has settled down a little bit. She and Jesus are making S’mores at a campfire, and perhaps writing a few things down in case Moses has some extra tablets. Kesha is still really happy about her jewelry, her ability to wave her arms for no apparent reason, and the fact that she can make whatever kind of video she wants because she is trending on Twitter.

The song and the video wind down with Kesha doing that weird baby talk business at the end. (“I like your beard.” Honey, that’s not a beard. That’s somebody being lazy and not shaving for a few days.) Jesus is watching her suspiciously and probably wondering why this disciple has proven to be so challenging and flirty. Kesha doesn’t care. (Does Jesus have any platinum singles? I don’t think so. Over you and moving on.) So she laughs a lot and plays with her hair, because she’s still young and doesn’t understand things like consequences, mortality, and an agent that really knows what he’s doing.

Final shot is of Kesha on that damn elephant, sporting the Statue of Liberty headdress. Give me your tired, your poor, and your teenagers with unearned disposable income. One of those three things is determining the future of the music industry, and that’s the real drug…

 

Click here to watch this video on YouTube.

Originally published on 06/11/10, revised and updated with extra flair for this post.