What trouble did you get up to last night? Uh duh, I stayed up to watch Ke$ha’s new documentary series, My Crazy Beautiful Life. Because my life is neither crazy nor beautiful, and I can admit it. But the premiere of Ke$ha’s series last night, documenting her 2-year world tour, may be more mundane than the title gives away. I expected beer and glitter baths, and I got a portrait of Ke$ha as a human being with a past, a family and feelings. Womp womp.
Thematically, the show is a consummate chronicle of everything we think Ke-dollar sign-ha is about. She brushes her teeth (perhaps with Jack Daniels), she wears a neon headdress on stage and she swaps saliva with bearded menfolk. And she drinks all the live-long night at the clerb. But she’s Ke$ha and that’s what we like about her. She’s a good time girl, and we want her to be our token friend that gets too drunk and leaves her coat at the party. Then there are the things we didn’t know about her, which is clearly where we’re going here. Because she has to be relatable-ish, past the fact that she’s an international superstar. You think you know, but you have no idea, this is the diary of Ke$ha as a human being who is relatively normal. Not the animal, not the cannibal nor the warrior nor the kamikaze pilot.
Some things we didn’t know, she’s a family girl. The series was filmed by her brother Logan Lagan in a Max from Catfish cinema verite style. You may ask if this gets creepy, and indeed it does. Lagan captures her making out with aforementioned bearded fellow, and accompanies her out on a quest to cruise around and hit on dudes—which we know is one of her favorite pastimes. She’s also super close with her mother Phoebe Pebe. I think I recognize her from Winter’s Bone! And can you believe it? Ke$ha doesn’t have the oddest name in her family.
And while she gives us what she wants and parties at the clerb, she appears to only go there one night out of what seems like a week. This is a pop singer who has made her star out of being in a perpetually hungover state. I don’t want to know that she’s reached granny status already. It indicates having a flawed homosapien immune system that can’t take too much battering. And that’s not the girl I know who dances around with furries in Volkswagen vans.
Another thing that you may not know about Ke$ha is that her first love is the muse behind the bulk of her music. Cause “Blah Blah Blah” is def a love song if you read into the subtext. When her tour takes her back to her hometown of LA, the episode takes a serious turn. She reminisces about meeting her first love, a man who goes only by Harold. She broke up with him when she went on the road. Here’s where we see the runny yolk of Ke$ha’s poached egg soul. She trudges through a sandy beach in an emotional hurricane of lovelorn grief, wearing nothing but her pink chuck high tops, a tattered sweater, and a puss. “You know he proposed to me? And he’s already living with his new girlfriend.” Honey child is clearly not over the man with a turd of a name.
This next thing you may have known about Ke$ha, but didn’t realize its extent (if you’re like me) is that she is becoming akin to a mini Lady Gaga. I’m not talking about the glitter obsession and the Bowie-reminiscent blue eye makeup. It’s the bullying theme, the naming of fans, this whole maternal dynamic she has with her public. Literally, there are like throngs of glitter-glazed teens who show up at her concerts and raise their hands as if they’re feeling the holy spirit at a Christian Rock concert. And I don’t even think they’re drunk teens! Seriously, I thought her demographic was girls like me who want mindlessly infectious mecha pop-rap as pre gaming background music. No, there are kids who write journal entries about her songs, and say that her music “sets [them] free.”
And this is where we find out that Ke$ha was bullied, of course. Well, like sort of a little in high school, but that wasn’t a big deal for her. It was Perez Hilton that really drove her crazy. In talking head form, Ke$ha says that what Perez does/stands for is the opposite of the message she tries to portray. Because her ”message is to give the haters the finger.” Uhh, yeah Perez. You should be ashamed of yourself, throwing shade at celebs. Cause you’re totes the only one doing it.
And whether or not Ke$ha has really made these kids feel more ok with being themselves, I’d rather not ascribe any meaning to her music. I love it because it’s so mechanically catchy that it gives me a musical pleasure lobotomy. It’s something to get buzzed and dance around your room to. It’s the kind of music you listen to because you don’t want to think. Or when you’re actively seeking out dangerously fun things that may shorten your life dramatically and lead you to “Die Young.” As a figurehead, she’s refreshingly candid in her weirdness, and says whatever comes to her mind: whether it’s about ghost sex or fondling Scottish men beneath their kilts. I’d rather not view her as some Gaga-Ron Hubbard preacher expounding the creed of personality. Or even as like, a person. But that’s how it comes off. She’s super preachy, and talks about her wounds and cries. When really, what I most wanted from this TV show was to see her cruise for guys and use her lyrics as pick-up lines. I mean, the “come put a little love in my glovebox,” line is like the bend and snap. It works every time.
And while the series airs in the literal industrial wasteland of weekly TV listings, Tuesdays at 11, I hope she keeps on for a few more weeks so I can see this dream fulfilled. I mean, if she can party on a Tuesday night at 11 PM, I can stay up for her show’s time slot. And I bet it’s a great place to meet a whole lot of crazy, beautiful, glitter-soaked squatters.