Saturday, 26 October 2013

Gaga/Lacan: ARTPOP and the Discourse of the Hysteric

By Jacob W. Glazier

In quest, without respite, of what it means to be a woman, [the hysteric] can but stave off her desire, since this desire is the other’s desire, never having achieved that narcissistic identification that would have prepared her to satisfy the one and the other in the position of the object.
Écrits by Jacques Lacan, p. 378

I’m not a wandering slave, I am a woman of choice.
My veil is protection for the gorgeousness of my face…
Do you want to see the girl who lives behind the aura?
Behind the aura, behind the curtain, behind the burqa?

“Aura” by Lady Gaga

The notion of hysteria as that of a suffering or wandering womb has been around since Antiquity. Yet, it was not until Sigmund Freud, in his famous case study of Dora, that hysteria became systematized vis-à-vis psychoanalysis as a form of pathology. In the middle of the twentieth century, Jacques Lacan took up hysteria and articulated it as a kind of discourse – an intersubjective relation or language game that we can inhabit. The following is a reading of Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP project and album, pre-release, through the psychoanalytic theory of Jacques Lacan, especially in regards to the hysteric’s discourse. These two thinker-artists, Gaga and Lacan, converge not only in their relation to the discourse of hysteria, but also in their project to commandeer desire, which it seems enables them to be read in tandem in a very complementary way.

As has been argued in numerous Gaga Stigmata (GS) articles, “Applause” acted as a preparatory setting-the-stage or, in the psychoanalytic sense, as a void or lack pregnant with possibilities from which ARTPOP proper could spring forth. Little attention, however, has been given to the chronological and structural primacy of the song “Aura” in its provision of the imaginary framework that foregrounded the possibility of the ARTPOP project in the first place. Being the very first song “leaked” from ARTPOP (even before “Applause”), “Aura” frames and situates the entirety of the ARTPOP project within the discourse of the hysteric, which lends support to the reading of Gaga’s project as necessarily subversive insofar as the hysteric’s discourse goes after the hegemony of the master through the demand that the master legitimate itself even though this is ultimately impossible.


That is, the hysteric is structurally situated within discourse in such a way that casts her very being into doubt – who am I? – and, consequently, she commands the master to fill this lack for her by answering the injunction – tell me! However, this commandment veils the fact that in the very act of questioning/demanding, the hysteric gives herself over to the master, thereby setting-up a symbolic dependence via the hysteric-master tension. “Aura” is precisely about this back-and-forth tease between the hysterical Gaga and the master: her fans, the media, the paparazzi, Perez Hilton, et al. – all of these constitute her big Other in the Lacanian sense, the master she desires to interrogate and to incite into performance for her pleasure.Gaga sings “do you want to see me naked lover?” Only if you perform for her first by telling her who she is. Read in this way, “Aura” situates the ARTPOP project within the sadomasochistic hysteric-master relationship and, thus, the songs, performances, etc. that fall under its auspices can be understood as various riffs off of, what is first and foremost, Gaga as hysteric.

Indeed, the very title of the album, ARTPOP, alludes to its hysterical intentions: to destabilize and conflate meanings. That is, it amalgamates disparate domains – ART + POP – not only literally, to the letter, but more metaphorically within the semantic field. Gaga wants to fasten the binaries of the ART-POP dialectic: “we could, we could belong together.” In so doing, the signifiers of each domain are engendered into confluence, thereby creating a unique and different realm of meaning.

Lacan calls these nodal points of reference the point de capiton, quilting or anchoring points, whereby desire vis-à-vis meaning is allowed to flow in unique and particular ways. Importantly, though, these channels are always contingent or, in other words, the signifier may be coaxed into adjoining another, different signified. In a sense, then, the point de capiton is a kind of tautology, a dialectic that is reflexive and self-referential. In “Applause”, Gaga captures this quite nicely when she sings,

          One second I’m a Koons, then suddenly the Koons is me.
          Pop culture was in art, now art’s in pop culture in me.

In these seemingly menial tautological iterations, Gaga is quilting herself and the entirety of her pop-culture, fantasmatic, and ideological project to the world of Art. She, in part, accomplishes this by calling-forth desire through her refusal to satiate meaning; or, to say it differently, through the hardcore polyvalence of her signifiers. The way in which she sings certain lyrics leaves their manifest meaning (i.e. what she is “actually” saying) largely ambiguous and up for interpretation, suspended in a hermeneutics of difference. This led some to label “Applause” as the victim of a “bad mix.” That is, the volume levels of the vocals and music seemed off: it was hard to hear what Gaga was saying because her voice was so similar to the production. RuPaul’s producer Lucian Piane was one such critic,


What these critics fail to realize, though, is that it is the polyvalence of signifiers as such that titillates and gets desire flowing. For example, when Gaga spells out A-P-P-L-A-U-S-E in the backing track, I first heard this as “it is the end of you.” It was not until the lyric video came out that I recognized there was a discord between what I heard and what the “official” lyrics were. Realizing this, I could not help but smirk because, in a sense, I felt as though I had been duped – of course she is spelling applause, I thought; that is the very name of the song! There are also other parts that tricked me. In the chorus the official lyrics are “make it real loud,” but it can also be heard as “make it real love.” Certainly, too, the utterance “Koons” is highly ambiguous (Koons ≈ coon ≈ cunt). This is not to say that there is some hidden or sinister meaning that Gaga is trying to sneak by us à la the alleged backmasking in Led Zeppelin’sStairway to Heaven.” Rather, it is the exact opposite. There is no one secret meaning that Gaga wants us to hear; she wants us to hear legion meanings, meanings without enervation in order to arouse our desire.

What’s more, Gaga invokes what is the sine qua non of our desire: the Thing or, das Ding. She sings, “give me the Thing I love.” The Thing is a fantasmatic object that generates the perpetual deferral of desire and that we hope will fill our lack thereby providing us with unmediated jouissance– unbridled orga(ni)smic pain-pleasure. We use various objects in the world to try and incarnate the Thing only to become frustrated by their necessary incompleteness. In ARTPOP, Gaga manifests this chiefly as Jeff Koons’s gazing/garden blue ball sculpture.

She inscribes the dignity of the Thing into one of the most banal objects possible: a simple sphere, something that we might find in the clearance bin at Wal-Mart at the end of summer, lest we forget its label status. It is not McQueen or Mugler this time, but a Jeff Koons sphere – and that makes it different in kind from the blue garden balls you find at Wal-Mart (or, does it?). This is, of course, subversive in its conflation of high culture with low, the former being art and the latter being pop, and is in line with Gaga’s continual project of raising the superficial to the level of the real.


Simultaneously, the blue ball is also a semblance of the frustration of the analysand’s desire during analysis, similar to Rifai’s description of glamouring in GS – a trick that keeps the listener frustrated and desire coursing. Any G.U.Y. reading this will understand the feeling of having his libido terminated before he is able to achieve completion. The result: blue balls. Or, blue Koons balls to be more precise. It is certainly noteworthy where the Koons blue ball is placed on the ARTPOP album cover – in front of Gaga’s intimate, private parts. In one sense, this placement crashes together the antinomies of testicles-vagina, male-female, public-private in traditional Gaga-trickster fashion. However, in another sense, she also recapitulates the phoenix theme from Born This Way by actually birthing the blue ball. In this way, with ARTPOP, she is giving birth to male frustration as such.

But in the Lacanian sense, not only Gaga, but also femininity in general, is a midwife to the male subject insofar as woman is a symptom of man; that is, femininity can only ever be an object of desire for the male gaze. On the album cover, the blue gaze-ing ball creates the statue of Gaga; it reifies the female as object. This is not only true in a psychoanalytic sense but also in a very literal sense since Jeff Koons created both the blue ball and the statue of Gaga.

Similarly, during the early ARTPOP era, Gaga has continually displayed herself as the Roman goddess Venus in a huge, voluminous wig with ‘hair to the gods’ (think a disheveled, crazed hysterical woman). By embodying Venus, the goddess of love, desire, and fertility, Gaga is positioning herself as an object of the male gaze, par excellence: the divine nexus of jouissance that remains eternally unattainable and therefore excruciatingly frustrating. In Lacanian psychoanalysis, this is known as the objet petit a, or the object of ultimate desirousness.

“Aura” is perhaps Gaga’s way of laughing at our frustration, and there is no better theme song for the hysteric than “Aura.” The inaugural lyrics disclose this fact: “I’m not a wandering slave, I am a woman of choice!” The lyric points to the horrific and hidden kernel around which the hysteric’s discourse eddies; namely, the impenetrable lacuna and question of “am I a man or a woman?” The very speech-act in the lyric – “I am a woman!” – belies this underlying and incessant questioning that challenges the hegemony of the master: What is a woman? Who am I? What do you want? Che vuoi? In “Aura,” Gaga speaks for us through the hysteric’s injunction to the master: Tell me!

She needs us to define her as a woman, as a subject that does not wander but possesses some viscosity of substance. This is hysterically humorous in the psychoanalytic sense precisely because the woman as subject does not exist. Gaga seems to be in on the joke when, in a quintessential act of trickery, she inverts the etymology of hysteria. The word hysteric has its roots in the ancient Greek meaning belonging to the womb, suffering in the womb, and in the nineteenth century was generally thought to be a disturbance of the uterus, a wandering of the womb. No, Gaga declares, she is not wandering – she is a woman of choice!

Furthermore, in the hysterical condition, the nervous system has gone awry such that paralysis or pains occur sans any organic etiology. In other words, the hysteric slips through the iron fist of medicine or of any kind of technical manipulation of the body. In this way, Gaga as hysteric is able to render herself diffuse, to become an effervescent and ephemeral aura, and to thereby escapeeven the medieval humiliation/torture masks that Betancourt analyzes in the Swine iTunes Festival performance. The body of the hysteric is a conundrum, an in-assimilable anomaly that, by its very nature, thwarts any kind of totalized symbolic interpolation. This is made explicit by Gaga in the lyrics to “Do What You Want (With My Body)” featuring R. Kelly:


The body, in the hysterical sense, is an incendiary irrelevance – a technical means to an end, a medium of signification, a canvas on which to paint (cf. Pierrot). This, of course, has been a central motif in Gaga’s project since the very beginning. That is, the coding and recoding of the body vis-à-vis fashion, makeup, hair, or, more generally, costuming. The difference in ARTPOP, however, is the explicit adaptation of the hysterical position that has allowed Gaga to position herself against her old way of costuming by literally stripping herself down (e.g. the naked pictures in V Magazine, the onstage changing during the iTunes Music Festival, the performance of “Applause” at the MTV Video Music Awards).

Her “voice” and her “heart” will go on, will endure sans a body. In the “Pervert’s Guide to Cinema,” Žižek reads Friedkin’s “Exorcist” as illustrating how the voice acts as an alien intruder, a foreign entity that possesses us and speaks not on our behalf, but from somewhere else. In this way, the voice is not at all part of the organic body and, least of all, speaks on our behalf. The voice, for Gaga, constitutes a creative and sublimatory means of persistence in the face of having her body snatched away from her – her significations come from a realm beyond the organic, beyond the body, and are fed primarily by us, the fans. 

So, too, with the “heart” or love from her fans Gaga is able to endure. This relationship can be read as a relation between the hysteric and the master with Gaga being the former and her fans being the latter – as she sings in “Government Hooker,” “I can be anything, I’ll be your everything.” She creates a symbolical dependence with her fans to tell her who she is, what she can be; she is whatever they desire her to be, which in turn keeps their desire fluid and pulsating (think: fans as poppies/opium during the “Applause” performance on GMA). The hysterical Gaga is too wily, though, to be rendered qua object and, instead, flees from any formal attempt to pin her down and assimilate her within a libidinal economy. She shape-shifts in order to remain forever desirous and is therefore eternally elusive, always as the objet petit a.


In a previous analysis of “Aura” on GS, Cavaluzzoreads the female-burqa dialectic as a double-dare to the hegemony of phallogocentric culture: “can a masculine culture handle a woman’s soul?” If the woman removes her makeup, her wigs, her clothing, her shoes, her jewelry will the man still be able to bear what lies underneath? Will patriarchy be able to accept the woman just as she is, stripped down to her bare essence? If we situate this song within the hysteric’s discourse of psychoanalysis we see that the foregoing analysis misses the point completely. In fact, it is the exact opposite.

The whole point of “Aura” is that there is nothing; there is nothing underneath all of the covers; there is only a lack fetishized by the male gaze.

Or, more precisely, there exists a woman that does not exist, nor has ever existed. There are only burqas and more burqas all the way down.Further, though, masculine culture or the male libidinal economy can never, in the psychoanalytic sense, “handle a woman’s soul” because its very existence is predicated on the female as object of desire. There can never been an assimilation between the two opposites, male or female, since there is “no sexual relation” to begin with.

Gaga changing mid-performance and onstage during the iTunes Music Festival 2013.
It follows, then, that “Aura” and perhaps Gaga proper, in their very essence, are a joke. A joke by way of inviting and enticing us to see the real beneath the artifice, the woman behind the burqa. It is in this sense that when Gaga changes on stage and unveils the popstar, she is actually doubling down on the joke.She is saying: “Look! I can show my body underneath all of this costuming, underneath all of these burqas, but you are still not going to get what you want. The truth is, you can never get what you want. I am just as elusive and desirous as ever!”

The realization of this joke, in some respects, is similar to the end of analysis for the analysand. Namely, the neurotic analysand comes to have a flash of joui-sense(pleasure-meaning) when his narcissistic and imaginary fantasies collapse, and he realizes that the analyst has no new knowledge to offer, no secret access to jouissance, and no better contact with the Thing. The funny thing is that Gaga gets the joke even before “Aura” starts – at ARTPOP’s very conception. She laughs hysterically: “HA HA HA HA HA HA!”






Additional Works Cited:

Fiennes, S., Žižek, S., Eno, B., Myers, T., Amoeba Film., Lone Star Productions., & Mischief Films. (2006). The pervert’s guide to cinema. London: P Guide.

Freud, S. (1952). The case of Dora and other papers. New York: Norton.

Hysteria. (1961). In The Oxford English dictionary (5th Vol.). Great Britain: Oxford University Press.

Lacan, J. (2007). Écrits: The first complete edition in English (B. Fink, Trans.). New York: W. W. Norton.


Author Bio:
Jacob W. Glazier, M.S. Ed., NCC, is a Ph.D. Student pursuing a degree in Psychology in Consciousness and Society at the University of West Georgia. He has his Master’s degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling and practices at the Center for Counseling and Career Development at the University of West Georgia. Jake is also a Graduate Teaching Assistant. Jake is working on his dissertation with the aim of appropriating queer theory in light of Lacanian psychoanalysis, especially in regard to the arts of drag and fashion.

Or email: jacob.w.glazier@gmail.com

Monday, 21 October 2013

So What Do We Want to Do With Your Body?

By Eddie McCaffray


I felt pretty vindicated by “Do What U Want” – not gonna lie. The song comfortably encapsulates three key Gaga/ARTPOP-era moves: first, the song suggests some form of sex or a sexual relationship as a metaphor for Gaga as an artist; second, the song suggests a traumatic moment of (self-)destruction as integral to the Gaga persona; third, the song suggests the body as a valueless or low-value raw material for Gaga’s continuing self-creation and transformation. This use of sex as a central metaphor for both pop stardom and creative process is just what I thought I observed about ARTPOP in Gaga’s iTunes Festival performance.

The song clearly uses sex as a metaphor for Gaga’s experience as an artist and her artistic process. “Do what you want with my body” certainly implies doing something sexual. After all, that’s one of the main things people like to do with their bodies and with other people’s bodies. This implication is one of R. Kelly’s most important roles in the song: he hammers home the sexual implications by singing “do what I want with your body.” Of course, the song shouldn’t be understood only in this way. Gaga also sings “write what you want, say what you want bout me.” This points to the pop-star side of the metaphor: just as a sexual partner can use one’s body, so too does everyone who watches the performer, listens to the song, or speculates in the “press” about one’s weight, health, sanity, and prospects for continued success or imminent self-immolation. Gaga suggests this part of the metaphor mainly through her Twitter feed in the lead-up to the release of “Do What U Want”: she posted a number of photos and videos in which she was unfavorably compared to Madonna or Katy Perry, shown to be fat, and told that God hates her. These were accompanied by the message “GAGA IS OVER” and the hashtag #dowhatuwantwithmybody.

The song also continues the re-figuration of trauma and self-destruction as self-creative moment that is a constant through Gaga’s career. This trauma has appeared in other forms in earlier stages, but with the coming if ARTPOP the trauma becomes increasingly sexualized. The lyrics of the song obviously suggest that “what you want with my body” might not be all that nice; the singer doesn’t careabout what happens to her body because she has her voice and because she has ownership (not at all the same as the surety or safety) of her life – not because she’s so confident that whomever she’s addressing will take good care of her body. I think R. Kelly is extremelyimportant here, given his association with battery, sex with under-aged women, and peeing on his sexual partners. It would be one thing to have, I don’t know, Space Cowboy do whatever he wanted with your body. But issuing such a blank check to R. Kelly is a very different, very particular, and very high stakes suggestion. Gaga also sings, early in the song, “you break that shit that makes me want to scream” – this could easily mean her body, given that her body is almost the only concrete physical object mentioned throughout the whole song.

Moreover, R. Kelly is explicitly identified as something Gaga is highly and self-destructively dependent on, whether as a potentially-abusive lover, a drug, or a drug-dealer (“I could be the drink in your cup, the green in your blunt, your pusha-man”). Once again, this kind of relationship is a metaphor for Gaga as pop-star: she’s addicted to fame. Just like R. Kelly, if her fans, her audience, or fame itself “ever let [her] go, [she] would fall apart.” In the emerging mode of ARTPOP, this is the use of sex and romantic relationships as metaphors to explore Gaga’s experience of fame. Fame or the international audience of pop stardom can be fickle, brutal, and take a real physical toll. At the same time, Gaga would fall apart without them. Just like an abusive lover, fame damages Gaga in the process of sustaining her.

All this underlines that, once again, Gaga’s body is either something valueless, such as garbage or raw meat, or something flagellated, such as that of an abuse victim, that of someone with an eating disorder, that of an addict, and so on. In either case, this allows that body to be of use in a creative project. If it is valueless muck, it can be refashioned however fame or art (pop) demands. If it is merely a conduit for trauma, it allows that trauma to create a space from which Gaga can emerge as coping-mechanism-cum-messiah.
   
In short, just as I thought I saw in Gaga’s iTunes Festival performance a month and a half ago, sex and sexual relationships have become central metaphors for Gaga’s continued exploration of her relationship to fame, art, and trauma.


The only part of the song I really can’t figure out is “You’re the mailman, I’m the president.” Help! Maybe she’s got a new song called “Government Mailman”?

Saturday, 19 October 2013

“Beautiful Little Fool”: Re-watching “Lucky”

By Meghan Vicks


Test this hypothesis with something other than reason and more like intuition: we are all Britney Spears.

Self is split into midriff/truth-b(e)arer Britney vs. Hollywood Britney. Hollywood Britney can’t see herself despite the ubiquity of her image, whereas midriff/truth-b(e)arer Britney can’t convey her truth no matter how needed it is or how mesmerizing her abs are.   

Britney mise en abyme; self in the abyss; self made manifest in a world of fun-house mirrors.

Struggling to see herself in her own reflection (or a reflection of a reflection ad infinitum) – which, of course, is the only way to self-knowledge, but this way is rejected because we require knowledge more real than a reflection. Isolation and loneliness, whether surrounded by people or not. Blind to the answer that is singing right in front of you, because it’s too fucking simple or clichéd, or maybe because there is no answer. After all, midriff/truth-b(e)arer Britney offers no answers, even though she sees something no one else does.

ENNUI pronounced “EN-YOO-EYE.”[1]

Every material need is met, and yet it amounts to nothing more than the palatial chicken coop[2](you don’t just live in order not to get wet, right?). Eternal longing for something that modern society cannot provide, and has no idea how to provide, and has no idea how to even articulate or conceptualize.

Self-fulfilling prophecy. Poor Britney Spears. We’re all such a spoiled brats (or maybe I should just speak for myself).

By the way: all life takes place on a stage – a story about a girl named Lucky, told by an idiot (who is puppeteered by her father or some other man behind the curtain), full of sound and fury, and signifying nothing.[3]





[1] Also reminds me of Sylvia Plath’s marginaliain her copy of Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby: “Plath underlined Daisy’s famous prediction for her daughter: ‘And I hope she’ll be a fool – that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool’ (21). Beside the following paragraph containing Daisy’s line ‘I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything,’ Plath wrote ‘L’Ennui.’” Britney Spears as the world’s “beautiful little fool.” Britney Spears doomed to a life of ennui.

[2] A reference to Dostoevsky’s Underground Man, the narrator of Notes from Underground, and still one of the best readers of our contemporary condition.

[3] Adapted from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Act V, scene 5:
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

GS Announcement

After nearly four years of intensive critical-creative output and interaction with popular culture, Gaga Stigmata, in its current journal incarnation, will be coming to an end at the strike of midnight on January 1, 2014.

In these final months, we are requesting submissions in the following three veins:
(1) Any new essays on Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP era 
(2) New essays on any pop cultural phenomenon that manifests what we call a “stigmata effect” – that is, the blurring of lines between superstar and fan, between high and low art, between art and interpretation, between the “original” and the “copy.” In particular, we are interested in essays about about Miley Cyrus, Kanye West, Jay-Z, Ke$ha, Lana Del Rey, and Katy Perry, but you are not in any way limited by this list.
Additionally, we are also seeking essays that explore new pop cultural phenomena such as the aesthetics of new media forms (e.g. Twitter, Tumblr, YouTubers, .gifs, Vines, Instagrams, etc.) 
We are also interested in essays that explore manifestations of the stigmata-esque intersection of the “art world” and the “pop world” in contemporary culture. 
(3) Any essays about Lady Gaga that have previously been published elsewhere. (We would like to create a one-stop on-live archive of the best Lady Gaga scholarship and creative criticism ever published; we will of course give credit to the original source of publication).
You are welcome to write traditional essays, and/or to use a creative-critical format for your work. Youtube videos, photoshopped images, memes, and .gifs can all feature in your work.

You are also welcome to submit more than one piece during this final incarnation of the journal, after which the journal aspect of the project will move into an archival stage. 

Friday, 11 October 2013

Miley’s War: Love and Rebellion in the Millennial Trenches


By Devin O’Neill

The following will be a review of the new Miley Cyrus album Bangerz, and the promotional and branding strategies surrounding the album’s release.


First we’ll discuss the music, since that’s definitely the neglected part of the equation.

Miley’s come up with a new pop sound, and it works. I love it. I’m going to have to rethink my approach to a lot of what’s on the radio, to Top 40, because of what’s been done here. It makes a lot of current pop sound dated. Recent Top 40’s been influenced heavily by 120-BPM dance music. Big-tent electronica. Think Ke$ha, LMFAO, even the new Britney. Miley’s drawn a line and departed from all that.

She and her team have accomplished this by, basically, incorporating cutting-edge trends in hip-hop – trap, drill, what-have-you – into her sound, alongside country and pop. The textures are round and thick, not excessively massive or blown-out like a lot of the pop on the radio. It’s got a great bottom end and tons of clarity, and reminds me of soundscapes I’ve heard from Die Antwoord, Drake, even Dr. Dre.

She’s mixing and matching musical styles, but her personality ties it all together into a vital brand. She can pose herself as country, and pull off a hip-hop-hoedown with Nelly on “4x4”, the only modern club banger I’ve ever heard with a straight-up cowgirl-line-dance rhythm.

The whole album is like this. She uses her raunchy southern-girl attitude to smooth the edges between raw hip-hop and the other forms she’s playing with, while rocking her new look. The result is very pop, very confrontational, and very her. One massive debutante fuck-you. “Do My Thang” is an archetypal example of the sound, and probably my favorite track on the album.

Her lyrics are raw, confrontational, and naive, which, in the context of this sort of ratchet/cowgirl persona, works perfectly. Think 2 Chainz yelling “SHE GOT A BIG BOOTY SO I CALL HER BIG BOOTY”. Hard-skulled punk-hop. In fact the weakest moments, lyrically, are those where Miley tries to over-rationalize or move outside her pure attitude. Attitude is the fuel this album runs on. Attitude and romance.


Yeah, Miley’s 20, so a lot of these songs are about love, sex, even marriage. They’re wide-eyed and openhearted, and, combined with her determination to decide what her own moral boundaries are, make for a compelling window into the fire of youth. It’s almost like she has unlimited energy, and she sings with an enormous amount of confidence and conviction.


The album art is straight out of Tumblr. A collaged, retro explosion of ridiculousness, neon, palm trees, and lo-fi digital. Anyone who hasn’t spent time in some pretty weird corners of the Internet might be confused. Others will recognize the aesthetic immediately, especially if they’re into performers like Geneva Jacuzzi. It’s all archival scuzz.


This singularity of identity, though, isn’t restricted to the album. So now, we get to the rest of the equation. Now we get to the secret plan.


Soon, an MTV documentary is going to air called Miley: The Movement. This documentary was filmed before, during, and after her VMA incident, and during the recording process for the album, way back before the release of the first single.


Yes, you heard that correctly. All of this was orchestrated in advance. The VMA performance, the reaction, the SNL gig, the release of the album and the documentary, everything. The official album release is on Tuesday, 8 October 2013, and the entire mainstream media machine is perfectly primed.

Wait, it gets better.

Her co-executive producer on the album is a 24-year-old called Mike Will Made It, another millennial. Given his other production credits, he’s clearly largely responsible for helping her craft her new sound.


Which makes sense, of course, if Miley’s being mentored by Kanye, or if he regards her as some sort of muse. Which this Rolling Stone article seems to indicate. She’s attempting, in a very young, green way, to follow in his footsteps as a contemporary innovator. And he seems to think she’s today’s most vital force in pop music.

Immediately after the VMA performance, it was announced that Miley would be collaborating with Kanye on a remix of his aggressive single, “Black Skinhead.”

Everything’s falling into place.

Now, let’s talk about why Miley’s doing all this.


This girl’s been controlled by Disney since she was 14 years old. She never got to be a teenager. There’s a delightful symmetry in the fact that she recorded one new song, “SMS”, with a guest-spot from another southern, female Disney escapee: Britney Spears.

Just before all this new business started happening, Miley fired her old management. She wants to rebel, she wants to break free, she wants to create a new identity.

All this is standard behavior for a 20-year-old, but very few do it in the public eye, with such ferocity, with such a singular voice, and without having a mental breakdown. Miley is totally lucid in interviews and on SNL. She’s well aware of what’s going on. Sex and drugs are not weird things for a 20-year-old female to indulge in, especially one dedicated to going hard and living her own life. She’s angling for a particular image and she’s hitting her mark; she isn’t missing. If it pisses you off, it’s because it’s supposed to.


There’s a comment on that video that reads “ILLUMINATI BRAINWASHED DEVIL WORSHIPPING SKANK”. Seriously.

This is what makes me love her so much. Because she is flatly refusing to allow previous generations to allow, really, anybody but herself to delineate what constitutes moral, appropriate, or artistically compelling behavior for her as a performer or a person. This is what the best, most interesting performers do. We have forgotten that punk rock and hip-hop used to piss people off and disgust them. We’ve come to appreciate dignified, safe entertainment that adheres to academic notions of “quality” and “skill” and “artfulness”. I can hear John Lydon puking somewhere.

It’s never been clear to me, exactly, what people are afraid of, when it comes to Miley and others like her. They seem to think that their children are going to be perverted and corrupted, that the entire culture is going to collapse, because of the way Miley is behaving. It’s not. They won’t be.

This reaction represents the entire digital-fear, social-media-is-fucking-us-kids-up, millennial-paranoia problem. And we are so sick of all of it. Fuck it and fuck you too. That’s what Miley’s saying. We are fine. We are doing what we want. Leave us the hell alone. Hers is the essential millennial battle-cry.

At core, this is an issue of demographics. There is a group of people that Miley’s behavior shocks. But me, and my closest contemporaries, do not belong to this group. This is not shocking to us. It’s beautiful. This is how we live, and this is the world we live in. We have all tried drugs and gone to fetish parties and skinny-dipped in public pools. Miley is not only attempting to be provocative; she is also trying to be honest. This likely horrifies people even more.

But we don’t care what you think, and neither does she – that’s the entire point. This is the synergy, the energy, of rebellion. This is how culture finds the impetus to evolve.


We’re still dealing with cultural conversations, for example, around the “appropriateness” of sexuality and sexual expression. “Raunchiness”, nudity, these things still get attention. But they get attention because sex is still shocking. Because we don’t have conversations about it. Because we still have a problem with it. We have not solved this neurosis. Miley is pushing for it to finally die, but she wants the conversation to die on her note, not theirs. This is the new acceptable, this is the new normal, deal with it.

The people obsessed with her ass are the ones paying attention to it. The rest of us, her fans, are interested in her attitude, the weirdness and ghetto-fabulousness of her videos, the thick thud and clear quality of her music. I promise you we do not YouTube or Google her only to stare at her boobies for hours at a time. We do. Not. Care.

People argue that the “uninformed masses” react to, and buy, sex. She’s just riding that, they say. But THEY ARE the “uninformed masses”. They see her as dangerous, and she feels the pressure from that conversation. They’re trying to destroy her, and that’s why she fights. She feels the need to tell everyone she “can’t stop” because everyone is trying to stop her. You watched them doing it; heard them all yelling at her to quiet the fuck down. It’s been all over the news and all over your Facebook feed.

Why do they care? Is she that unsettling?

People’s reaction to her “rebelliousness”, the expectations placed upon her, are just an extension of the oppressive forces that were the impetus for her to do this in the first place. It’s Disney all over again, people want her to be safe and wholesome. And she wants out. And she will continue wanting out.


The conversation about her being objectified, her reducing her image to sexuality, about her using that to draw people’s attention away from the art, that kind of talk doesn’t occur in a vacuum. If people assume there’s nothing else of value going on because she’s being sexual, if that’s all they pay attention to, that’s not Miley’s fault. That’s theirs. It’s clearly important to her to express herself sexually right now, but her sexuality doesn’t have to be reductive. It’s made that way by those reading it, and ignoring everything else.

This is schizophrenic feminism – it’s a conflict that we haven’t even nearly figured out, the same conflict prodded at by Marie Calloway and others like her in more academic corners of the culture. The feminist community cannot decide if being overtly sexual in public is a claiming or a relinquishing of agency. Well, Miley isn’t waiting on the results of our decision. She’s just decided to be herself.


Really, though, this isn’t about the sex. There are porn stars younger than Miley all over the Internet. It’s about the context she’s placed her sexuality in; the deep weirdness of the entire situation, of the aesthetics of her evolution. This in aggregate is far more interesting than her ass alone could ever be, and that deep weirdness is the real reason people are paying attention.

I love few things more than deep weirdness.


I am not interested in wrapping myself in a comforting cocoon of nostalgia, or in cutting myself off from the pushers of the next generation. I’m always going to be pushing, I’m always going to be at the edge, and I’m never going to give up. I try as hard as possible to tune in to new culture. When I’m reminded that there are always going to be 20-year-old-kids throwing existential and aesthetic tantrums, and shoving culture kicking and screaming into new modes of expression, it gives me so much hope. This is why I’m inspired by Miley Cyrus. She makes me feel alive.

I don’t crave polished, “dignified” music, or carefully-curated, smooth-pop sexiness. I’m not interested in recycling aesthetics over and over again. These are not things I see as worth fighting for, artistically. But Miley, as simple as her work is, gave me something new to fight for. It made me realize that pop music could still surprise me, and that’s more valuable to me than having my sensibilities soothed and my aesthetic rubrics reinforced. I can’t help but feel the life in what she’s doing; the fire. And whenever I see that fire my instinct is to protect it.

They seem to like you for the moment, Miley. They’re coming around. But it might not last. They might surround you and try to shut you up again. Blow them back. Keep twerking. For me, and for all of us.

Author Bio:
Devin O’Neill is a transmedia storyteller, branding practitioner, and performance artist. He enjoys things he shouldn’t, on purpose, and tries to get other people to enjoy them too. Make friends with him at https://facebook.com/devinoneill

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