Not her first rodeo: Beyoncé as a case study for mega fame

Good evening, April fools. I hope you had a lovely weekend, filled with He is risen-ing, being Visibly Trans, and/or good times. Another thing I love about New York: life goes on every single day. Growing up in what I believe is the second-most Catholic city aside from the Vatican, Pittsburgh would completely shut down on Christmas and Easter. Walking around yesterday was such a pleasure because I got to see lil’ kids leaving church in their Easter best and the vast majority of businesses still open and busy. The lines at Trader Joe’s were so short!

I assume many of you spent part of your week listening to Beyoncé’s latest album, COWBOY CARTER. What did you think of it? Are you just gagged? Has it been on repeat since it came out? Did you go to a listening party? Are you opening your mind up to country as a genre more?

While listening to this album for the first time, I went on a rant to some of my friends that I would like to share here and extrapolate on. To my Beyhive subscribers, proceed at your own risk.

Beyoncé is one of the most talented vocalists and performers of the modern era. I have so many special memories and associations with her music. Lemonade might be the best pop album we’ve seen in the 21st Century. I saw that tour and was transfixed…screaming, crying, the works. Her aura is magical.

I was excited for RENAISSANCE because it’s the kind of clubby, groovy music I love. When it came out, I thought it was objectively good but just not for me, which did I did not fully understand. Since then, almost every single Daylist that Spotify curates for me includes at least two songs from this album, and I can now say I can’t stand it. Why does Spotify keep peddling this to me? It makes sense, in theory because 1. It’s good music 2. Again, it’s the kind of music I like.

I felt a sense of dread ahead of COWBOY CARTER’S release. I adored the song “Daddys Lessons” off of Lemonade (maybe in my top 3?), but neither of the singles she released ahead of COWBOY CARTER held that same passion or catchiness. Was this about to be the second Beyoncé album I meh’d? Probably. Although I like some country music, I’m more on the Kacey Musgraves side than, say, the Jason Aldean side.

The album came out and I gave it a listen. Like RENAISSANCE, it’s an impressive body of work, but it’s just not for me. I added a few songs (my favorites are “RIIVERDANCE” and “TYRANT”), but I wasn’t emotionally attached to any of the tracks. In listening to her latest installment, I realized why RENAISSANCE didn’t stick with me and why certain celebrities rub me the wrong way.

Beyoncé is too famous for me to love right now. She is at the top of the pyramid, beloved by fans, peers, and other celebrities. Remember how every Grammys commercial break showed a whole line of artists we look up to lining up to take a picture with Beyoncé, the artist they look up to? Everyone truly bows down.

So many people are afraid to critique Beyoncé or treat her like any other artist because she is in a class of her own (along with Taylor Swift). She is almost a billionaire, is married to a billionaire, and her lifestyle is completely different than almost every person in the world. Fame is an isolating, difficult experience (which I obviously know from writing a very successful newsletter), and her support system elevated her atop a mountain.

These are qualities that make me want to critique her, unlike the many racist, sexist critiques most people who say they hate Beyoncé hold. Lyric-driven music is amplified by the artist’s passion and, often, lived experiences; Beyoncé, at the very least, lacks the latter. Queen Bey talking about a 9 to 5 on “BREAK MY SOUL” is a phenomenon this royal cannot relate to, at least not at this level of fame.

Her attempt to conquer country music is her way of fighting these imaginary opps. These country fan/exec dissenters she’s trying to prove wrong are so far below her, and her thinking there’s a chip on her shoulder is a bit delusional. But we all have struggles, no matter how privileged or stupid we are. Taylor Swift chooses to make music about stupid boys because that’s something big she struggles with (even though she has the platform to affect real change).

Everyone has problems, and the rich, powerful, and/or delusional don’t realize how dumb theirs sound, especially when they’ve been accepted into artistic circles. This is the kind of environment that breeds people like Grazie Sophia Christie, who wrote the controversial Cut article “The Case for Marrying an Older Man” that set the Internet ablaze this week. Please read the piece if you haven’t.

There is enough discourse on this article to fill up 20 newsletters. I love how The Cut (far and away my favorite magazine) publishes these stories from contemporary versions of The Awakening’s Edna Pontellier, women who think they’re breaking barriers when they’re just using their privilege to get things their skills cannot.

I see Grazie Sophia Christie’s writing and cringe, not just because it’s bad, but because — this isn’t me trying to fish for compliments — I think I write just like this age gap writer lady. I overuse commas, live a luxe (for my age?), urban life, and think I’m right about everything when I clearly lack self-awareness. I believe a part of it is this detachment from empathizing with true world issues.

This is also what makes so many Bushwick gentrifiers insufferable. People make art based on their problems, but so many of their obstacles and inspirations lack heart. Oh, your work is inspired by the TV shows you liked as a kid? Please, tell me more about how Spongebob and Hannah Montana influence your style. This attempt at a hero’s journey is perpetuated by certain white Bushwick gays (assumably like myself), feeling oppressed from their cozy apartments or parent-filled bank accounts.

So is good art just made by the poor or traumatized? No, but the rich must have both talent and heart. So many nepo babies (Zoë Kravitz, Margaret Qualley) and people from rich families (Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Ariana Grande) have given us masterful performances that we relate to. People like Grazie Sophia Christie are so frustrating because they have all of this time and opportunity to hone their craft yet lack that genuine talent to make their work meaningful. Their attempt at vulnerability is hollow when, even when trying to be authentic, there is nothing there.

In our country’s legendary Loneliness Epidemic, we know, on the whole, about more people than ever before, just less about those we’re closest to. We have these parasocial relationships with the influencers, artists, and idols we come across in our scrolls. And they really feel real. This is why the lack of reality I feel from people like Beyoncé and Taylor Swift turns me off, because we only see very contained messes from them. Even Ariana Grande should be in this category, but we’ve grown up watching her overcome genuine pain and come back more talented than before.

We both create and oddly crave these parasocial relationships. People say artists and influencers have “saved them,” which creates this religious type of stan culture we see for artists like Beyoncé. I do think part of modern religion’s downfall is because it’s easier and more believable to worship performers than an abstract idea of salvation. But we only get back from these idols we stan whatever we fabricate. Some stans chase a singular like for their whole social media posting careers.

I’ve even gotten some interesting forms of parasocial relationships from my newsletter, but it’s been in a way that I’ve liked. Some people I rarely see or don’t know super well talk to me with such a comfort that I don’t know any source of aside from these things I tell you every week. It can be a little odd to think about sometimes, but it’s mostly a nice thing.

I hope that your reading of my work will encourage you to suggest or critique parts of my writing, instead of being like one of the many yes-men that create writers like Grazie Sophia Christie. Beyoncé deserves genuine critique of her art, but her fans feel such a kinship with her that they will obsess over anything she puts out, no matter the quality or genre. Do you really want to be foaming at the mouth over the artists that corporations and media organizations are using in their marketing? Your favorite artist is the same one that Uber and Lyft fight over making discounts around? Or the same one a major sports association is hoping will woo an entire demographic into spending money around?

You can critique your faves without being a hater. Just maybe do so away from the stans.