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Like many of you, I was initially confused when I saw that roughly all of my Facebook friends had all linked to the same song by the same artist, and eventually succumbed to the pressure and clicked. Little did I know that I wasn’t just watching a music video for a new pop song, but had stumbled across nothing less than the zeitgeist in the form of Rebecca Black’s “Friday”. The skies parted and angels came down to usher in a new era of wisdom and understanding, as explained by Rebecca Black. But what is she explaining? What is this new prophet preaching to us? Put simply, what can we learn from Rebecca Black? Well, my friends, as an English major with a mildly not-exactly-unsuccessful blog, I am here to shed some light on “Friday”, and to extract everything that can possibly be taken out of this song. Think of this article as a much-needed SparkNotes for “Friday”, which will almost certainly come in handy when this song will inevitably be analyzed in high school literature classes. The zeitgeist has hit, but what does it mean? Here’s what I have to say:

We are introduced to the world of Rebecca Black through the means of an annotated daily calendar and learn that her world is not, entirely, unlike ours. Sunday is full of studying. Monday has a test. Tuesday, more homework. Wednesday, music practice. Thursday, essay due. Truly an oppressive, Orwellian dystopia. Yet as things seem bleakest, FRIDAY!

The calendar displays a great deal of anticipation for this Friday, but no reason is offered. Then Rebecca Black goes into song.

Initially, there is some confusion concerning what makes Friday so special. Obligatory tasks and duties are rapidly listed, seemingly establishing the same oppressive standard encountered on the aforementioned days of the week.

“Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal”

A frightful prospect, certainly. English majors and anyone taking English in high school should especially take note of the use of asyndeton to convey how perfunctory these obligations have become. Rebecca Black’s life has become a joyless routine. As she makes her way to the bus stop (which she also has “gotta” do), a tiny ray of hope suddenly appears. She encounters not a bus, but a car full of her friends, kickin’ in both the front and back seats, and totally looking like they are old enough to drive.

Suddenly, the world begins to open up for Rebecca Black. While the rest of her life has been dictated for her, she is suddenly faced with a choice. She may either join her friends in the front seat, or join her friends in the back seat. The choice is entirely her own and Rebecca Black begins to be her own woman. Rebecca explores her newfound free will, wondering “Which seat can I take?”, and the verse gives way to the chorus, as well as an explanation for her sudden freedom: It is Friday.

As Rebecca and her friends drive on as the promises of Friday are explained in full:

“It’s Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin’ down on Friday
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend
Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)
Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin’ forward to the weekend”

However, despite the promise of the events to come, there are warning signs that something is still amiss. The word “gotta”, previously used when outlining her oppressive society, returns, despite now being used for “get[ting] down”, a positive event. Rebecca later rectifies this slip by rewording her excitement, removing the “gotta” and expanding “get” into “gettin’”. The meaning of this contrast remains somewhat ambiguous until a second warning sign is encountered: the monotonous repetition of the word “partyin’”, and then especially of “fun”. Has society’s oppression taken hold of recreation as well, despite her apparent excitement of “looking forward to the weekend”?

In the second verse, it is now nighttime, and Rebecca and her friends, who are now all girls, are now driving down the highway at apparently reckless speeds, but Rebecca’s illusion continues to shatter:

“Fun, fun, think about fun
You know what it is
I got this, you got this
My friend is by my right
I got this, you got this
Now you know it.”

Despite assuring us that we know something, it is entirely unclear what it is that we are supposed to have “got”. Rebecca’s diction becomes increasingly circular and mundane, as if she is reassuring herself of something, but doesn’t quite know what that something is. Her robotic repetition of the word “fun” returns, and she even goes so far as to remind herself to “think about fun”, although it is becoming increasingly clear that her oppressive society has already done the damage: she no longer knows what fun is. In her frantic need to assure herself everything is okay, she takes the effort to mention her friend seated to her right, but neglects the person to her left, leaving their relationship open to considerable scrutiny.

Rebecca then repeats her declaration of free will, as we learn that Rebecca’s tribulation concerned which seat she will sit in is actually the prechorus. Is this another desperate plea from Rebecca, still trying to claim control over her life, or has she simply still not made up her mind where she will sit down? The question and its overarching concerns for her free will continue to haunt her as she returns to the chorus, taking the viewer to what promises to be “fun, fun, fun, fun” at an oddly well-dressed high school underclassmen house party.

Drowning in her uncertainty, Rebecca tries her hardest to restate her claims of imminent merriment and recapture the excitement of Friday. The song goes to the bridge, and Rebecca does the best she can to explain the significance of Friday with the following words:

Unable to grasp reality, Rebecca’s beliefs are boiled down to only part of their basic elements. All meaning is lost as she falls further, losing her ability to from any sentence at all.

Her free will lost, Rebecca relapses into the routines taught to her by her oppressors, and begins explaining the days of the week again:

“Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes afterwards”

It is also important to note that Rebecca loses her ability to rhyme at this point, symbolizing her loss of identity. Anything that once made any sense is now gone forever, as a random rap interlude from a new figure begins.

Who is this man, and why is he rapping everything that Rebecca already sang at the beginning of the song? Unfortunately, this figure is none other than Rebecca’s oppressor. He describes himself chillin’ in the front seat, the back seat, drivin’, cruisin’, even going so far as to be switching lanes. He even mentions the school bus that never showed up for Rebecca, quite possibly as lost as we are, although nowhere near as lost as Rebecca is by now. This person is clearly the one pulling all the strings, dictating Rebecca’s every single action.

This is, of course, where the true meaning of the song comes out. No one person could exert such power. The rapper is actually representative of society itself, and Rebecca represents its victims. While Rebecca puts on the appearances of celebrating a release from her monotonous oppression, the real oppressor is this cycle she cannot escape from. Her work and her recreation are controlled by forces greater than her, with no end possible. Rebecca sings of fun and partying, but it is actually a warning. Rebecca Black’s “Friday”, far from a joyous pop celebration, is actually the nihilistic decay of the individual in modern society. Rebecca is at once a warning and a cry for help. She falls deeper and deeper into the vicious cycle of time, and desperately trying to find a faint glimmer of hope to hold on to, she finds Friday, and holds onto it with the last of her strength. She reminds herself, it’s Friday. Friday.

Friday…