"Lila. You have got to write an article on Lady Gaga. I cannot believe that anyone would give the award for 'Best New Album' to Taylor Swift over her."
That's my publisher, a professional male in his late forties. And he loves Lady Gaga. I point this out not (entirely) to embarrass him, but rather to indicate the extent to which Lady Gaga has re-energized people like him across the world-- a group often neglected by Top 40 artists. And she's done it while wearing coats made out of Kermit the Frog, blood-covered leotards, and a hairbow made out of real hair. While Taylor Swift's success does present something the American public hasn't seen in a few years-- good, clean, genuine songwriting from an actually nice young woman-- her style is antithetical to that of Lady Gaga, and ultimately, much more comfortable for the American public. Which is perhaps why, on Sunday night, she took home the Grammy for "Best New Album" over Gaga's The Fame.
Lady Gaga is not in the business of making the "average" person feel comfortable; she hopes to help "the kids who feel like freaks" feel like they have a little company. Gaga has been called an heir to David Bowie, Madonna, and Freddie Mercury (also her "Gaga" namesake, from his Queen song "Radio Ga-Ga"). After her outstanding dueling piano performance with Elton John on Sunday, it's hard not to see the star in the context of a celebrated line of highly-energized, ambiguous, sexually-charged entertainers.
Her unusual style has resulted in a slew of de-sexualizing accusations: that she's intersexual, androgynous, a "gender bender." But maybe what Lady Gaga does isn’t genderbending at all. Maybe what she offers, and what no other female performer has in a very long time, is an alternate version of femininity. While publicly acknowledging sexuality in her performances and statements to the media, she resists the mainstream tendency to be included in the duality of "virgin" or "whore"; in fact, she subverts the categorization entirely by questioning what it means to be sexy. Famous for being "half-dressed"-- bra with pants, shirt with no pants-- she resists self-objectification by juxtaposing sensuous imagery with disturbing (often robotic) costumes and images of death. She is positively disgusting, and excitingly repulsive-- to use her word, a "monster."
Many aren't sure what to make of her. She has stated in interviews that she resents questions about her life outside of the Gaga persona. The point is that Stefani Germanotta (her real name) is irrelevant; Lady Gaga is walking, dancing, breathing performance art. And it's not far-off from where pop stardom has been for years now, but Gaga's intentionality and self-proclaimed "artist" status highlight it in a way that is new and subversive. She describes her music-- dance-y, synth-studded pop tracks influenced by eletroclash and R & B-- as "soulless" melodies. It hasn't stopped her from releasing two number-one hits off of her debut album, The Fame, or from winning "Best Dance Recording" and "Best Electronic/Dance Album" at the Grammys. By creating music accessible and enjoyable to the mainstream, she simultaneously enables, encourages, and critiques its mass consumption.
This commentary is well-timed, as the age of the meta-celebrity expands into almost unfathomable territory. In November, the LAPD arrested a suspected criminal group known as the "Bling Ring," a team of four affluent eighteen- to twenty-year-olds from the Valley area now charged with stealing over three million dollars in property from celebrity homes over the past year. Targets included Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan, and The Hills' Audrina Patridge-- celebrities famous more for their lifestyles and outrageous behavior than for any dramatic or musical work. One of the alleged thieves, eighteen-year-old Alexis Neiers, was in the midst of shooting an E! reality show on her life as an L.A. party girl when she was called in for her arraignment. Fame, however inglorious, has become an art form driven by scandal and publicity (where none is bad).
Gaga addresses tabloid fodder and paparazzi-dependent starlets in the lyrics of her songs, as well as in her award-winning music videos. In "Paparazzi," Gaga casts herself as the pop-star-turned-tabloid-icon after scandal smears her public image. To the pleasure of the paparazzi, she retaliates violently and catapults into greater fame. It's not a stretch: Gaga shows her public what she knows they love, and doesn't attempt to alter or shame their behavior. Her work may be satirical, but it's never condescending.
The singer's celebrity status appeared to develop overnight, but the fact of the matter is that Gaga has years of classical music training from Tisch under her belt, and has paid her dues performing in dozens--if not hundreds-- of New York bars before signing to a major label. As she has pointed out in interviews, her approach to pop music mirrors the process followed by successful rock bands: a slow but steady start, followed by a gradual incline that eventually, with some luck, skyrockets. Upon her Fame album release, Gaga transformed her image into the platinum blonde, outrageously-dressed star we recognize today. All the better to idolize you with, my dear.
To Gaga, fame is something to ooze until the rest of the world believes it. And Lady, we believe. You've created a monster.