REVIEW: Rebecca Black's "Let Her Burn"


Disclaimer: The following is a re-post from earlier this year. This review was originally posted alongside three others but, in the time, since posting those reviews allegations of sexual assault have emerged about a musician, I gave a lot of praise to. I ask that you always believe victims and give your support to artists who work hard and manage to maintain being an unharmful person.

Rebecca Black has finally, after a twelve-year career, dropped her debut full length record. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about how a pretty insidious LA record label picked up the Irvine, CA native as a child and released “Friday,” which was widely seen as a joke at the time, but Rebecca has taken that tie to a childhood meme and used the experience gained to become a lesbian pop icon. She even re-released the track in question in 2021 with an all-star cast of hyper pop features and production. All this to say; she’s earned her fucking stripes and on Let Her Burn she lets out her truest abilities.

A lot of the songs on Let Her Burn come together in unconventional ways, built structurally like they’re from one genre but always managing to arrive at something completely different in execution and always in successful ways. The guitar built, dubstep-like sonics on “Destroy Me” managing to loop back around to near nu metal. The strange, somber presentation of “Doe Eyed.” And, on a vast majority of tracks, a set up those paints a picture of pure EDM bliss that always loops back around to something else entirely, it’s so hard to pin this record to just one archetype of pop because Rebecca Black refuses to stay in just one lane even from track to track. Then even when the songs are conventional, they’re some of the strongest moments of the year thus far. (Yes, even with me releasing this nearly two months after the record actually came out.) The strongest example of this being “Misery Loves Company” wherein Black makes a song that would fit snugly on a playlist with the likes of former collaborator Slayyyter or current tour mate mazie and manages to be one of the highlights on it. None of that to even mention how strong her vocal melodies are overall.


While the entire record is not tied to just the one narrative there is a major space taken up by Rebecca’s capacity to love and the pain she bares when that love is shattered. The dual nature presented right away in the first two tracks; talking about locking her feelings up and painting her former lover as the villain to save herself the suffering on “Erase You,” only to reveal her own weaknesses and how simply seeing the girl in question can shatter her on “Destroy Me.” Then as the record goes on, she always talks about loving someone through their faults on “Crumbs” and hating the way an ex can move on in “Sick to My Stomach.” As queer women we love so deep and intense that it often runs in the myriad of our hearts and minds and to have a record portray that in the way this one does is so important for us.


The last track of the record, “Performer” did not sit well with me for a long time, I have to admit. With its disjointed instrumental and a vocal performance that felt a little forced it sort of kept me from feeling like the album itself had any real closure. I do sort of understand it now, however. Queer and neurodivergent folks in general are often forced to live in so many different stages of masking and in the song, Rebecca reflects on the ways she’s been forced to do that with a song that reflects it; something as awkward as lying about who you are. In a way though by releasing it she leaves that behind, and how can I not admire that given everything I’ve been through in my own journey of self-acceptance?


Our rating - 8/10

  1. Erase You
  2. Destroy Me
  3. Misery Loves Company
  4. Crumbs
  5. Doe Eyed
  6. Sick to My Stomach
  7. What Am I Gonna Do
  8. Cry Hard Enough
  9. Look at You
  10. Performer

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The BRAT review

Review: Get Off the Internet by Eliminate released via Create Music Group

Review: analysis/paralysis by Four Year Strong released via Pure Noise