For a concise version of this analysis, please refer to this video. I’ll aim to zoom in more on the actual text first and have a more general section in the second half, but I’ll need to address some of the same points as Sean does in his take.
PART I – Close Text Analysis
It is my intention to pick only one song from any artist for these close text analyses, and so I will always try and choose the most problematic one that’s still fairly well known. With that in mind, I never would have thought that I could possibly go for any other song from Avril Lavigne than Girlfriend. Short personal anecdote here. I was thirteen when Girlfriend came out, and I used to listen to a little bit of Avril then, as she was just hitting all of my hormone-doused puberty buttons with impressive accuracy. Then again, I guess that’s the point, so well done, producers, you got me there. But even as a horny thirteen year old teenage boy, all I could think of while watching Avril jump around in her usual miniskirt and fishnet stockings was “what a vile bitch”. And let me tell you, horny teenage boys care fairly little about people’s moral disposition in their sexual fantasizing. So, well done Avril, I guess.
There were some songs by Avril I then felt were somewhat deeper, like Nobody’s Home, or, to some extent, So Much For My Happy Ending. And to be honest, I considered Sk8er Boi to be one of those, just to a lesser extent. Bear in mind, though, that I’m still in my early teens here with limited command of the English language. That said, boy was I wrong. Let’s just get into it.
He was a boy
She was a girl
Can I make it any more obvious?
Sean gave a pretty good run-down in the video on just how obnoxious this opening is, but I almost don’t mind it. I honestly quite like the first two lines. Simple and effective opening, and yes, we do know that it’s going to be a romance story between two youths, the male presumably being the titular sk8er boi (boi is just French for boy, right?), and we might reasonably assume that the girl is the narrator, and the narration is in third person to increase psychic distance for dramatic effect. The third line is a lot more problematic, owing to the fact that it’s fucking stupid. See this previous sentence? It relays no new information, nor is it pleasing to read apart from some very slight comic relief that stems from contrasting registers of language. Is the existence of such a sentence therefore justified, even in non-artistic, analytical prose written at 4 am, let alone in a presumably somewhat lyrical context, ie. song lyrics? Not to mention that she either considers her audience to be idiots, and she’s frantically trying to dumb the story down enough so that they can follow, or, just maybe, she’s following the Brechtian tradition of breaking immersion, reflecting on the fact that this is a song straight away. Either way, well done again, Avril.
He was a punk
She did ballet
What more can I say?
We continue with the simple sentence structure, straightforward and effective character introductions. The story begins to unfold before us without any action — anarchist Romeo and bourgeois Juliet. Neat. Then she keeps Brechting on us, who knows why.
He wanted her
She’d never tell
Secretly she wanted him as well
Still great economic language use here; an almost Hemingway-like straightforwardness in the depiction of emotional turmoil. Also, it seems that the line “How could I possibly provide additional information for further clarification of the presented situation?” was sadly rejected by the producers. Never mind, Avril, we’ll manage with what we’ve got, somehow.
But all of her friends
Stuck up their nose
They had a problem with his baggy clothes
Makes perfect sense with the premise of the story. Juliet’s bourgeois acquaintances are petty, superficial and materialistic…
He was a skater boy
She said, “See you later, boy”
He wasn’t good enough for her
…and since peer pressure is a thing, especially among teenage girls, especially among upper-class, ballet-dancing teenage girls, she had to kick him out. The last line here is somewhat confusing, however, as it was clearly stated in line 9 that “she wanted him as well”, therefore he would have been good enough for her, had it not been for the expectations of society regarding her choices for potential mates. Also strange how the boy was downgraded to skater (or sk8er, in ze French) from punk fairly quickly, but more on this later. (Maybe the girl didn’t actually do ballet either, her uncle just taught her how to slow dance at her mother’s third wedding, and she thought those, too, were practically the same thing.)
She had a pretty face
But her head was up in space
She needed to come back down to earth
Gosh, Avril, no need to be so hard on yourself! After all, we have already surmised that you let the boy go to avoid the bullying and ridicule from all those posh twats encircling you, and considering that a fair portion of said bullying would have targeted the boy himself, there is actually an element of selflessness in the act of letting him go. Oh well, at least you don’t hate how you look, that’s a chunky item off the list of teen girl insecurities.
Five years from now
She sits at home
Feeding the baby, she’s all alone
Alright, slow the fuck down. We went from Zeffirelli to Aronofsky way too fast here. I mean the storytelling is still really concise; if not for the “she’s all alone” bit, this could easily be a happy ending; alas, so much for our happy ending (ha-ha). So she’s a single mother now, that means she… Hang on. “Five years from now?” (italics mine) As in, five years into the future? Is this some sort of premonition on the narrator’s part? Let’s find out, shall we?
She turns on TV
Guess who she sees
Skater boy rockin’ up MTV
Oy vey, I guess in the early 2000s they still had music on MTV. Either that, or skater boy’s rockin’ up some Jersey hoes. Either way, Avril is impressed, apparently. Or, rather, will have been impressed should skater boy grow up to be a rock star by then. You know, five years from now. In the future. (Notice the slight return to metatextual insertions with “guess who”.)
She calls up her friends
They already know
And they’ve all got tickets to see his show
The hardly surprising return of the toxic twats. Naturally, skater boy’s now rich and famous, and as such becometh an attractive subject for mating purposes. I have to assume that, in this perceived timeline, the social status of our heroine and her aloof acquaintances must be similar, otherwise there’s no chance they would even answer her call at all. It’s tough to wish for either rags or riches for them, as our girl hasn’t really done anything wrong yet to deserve a crap life, but on the other hand, the rest of them can get bent. Sadly that’s not how the world works, so I’ll assume they are all living depressing suburban American Beauty-lives.
She tags along
And stands in the crowd
Looks up at the man that she turned down
Again, Avril, don’t be so eager to put yourself down. You had to pass him up, just let it go already. Also, we’re in a possible future, you’re just imagining all this, so what are the chances of the skater boy indeed becoming a famous musician, right?
He was a skater boy
She said, “See you later, boy”
He wasn’t good enough for her
(Again, he would have been)
Now he’s a super star
Slammin’ on his guitar
Does your pretty face see what he’s worth?
Wait, so “now he’s a super star”? (italics mine) I guess you mean “now” as in “in the present of this possible future timeline I’m constructing”. You’re getting sloppy with your narrative devices, Avril. Maybe your pretty face should focus on that instead, eh?
Sorry, girl, but you missed out
Well, tough, luck that boy’s mine now
We are more than just good friends
This is how the story ends
Holy motherfucamole! What?! Were the girl and the narrator two different characters all along? But… but… what?! Well, this turns the whole thing on its head! So all this stuff that appeared to be constant self-flagellation about missing out on a childhood crush was in fact slinging shit at some poor random girl your fuckbuddy used to kind of have a thing for five years ago? Well, excuse my French, but go faque yourself, Avril. I guess this means that this is the actual present, and that these events actually took place, right? But wait, you know what’s almost as bad as all this? That she says “This is how the story ends”, which is of course a fucking lie, as she’s just. Getting. Started.
Too bad that you couldn’t see
See the man that boy could be
There is more than meets the eye
I see the soul that is inside
What fucking soul, dude? What soul? Here you are, trash-talking a single mother who you think had a minor interest in your current boyfriend, again, five years ago? How fucking insecure and jealous can you get? And you have the audacity to talk about souls? Even if you were a regular human being and not the emo-bimbo-teen ho that you are, at best you could have seen, or thought to have seen, was talent. And if you did, and it worked out for you so well, what the hell is your business with this woman? Do you enjoy going waay out of your way to rub it in the faces of others that your boyfriend is famous and – according to your questionable standards – talented? Fuck me.
He’s just a boy
And I’m just a girl
Can I make it any more obvious?
Hey, nice framing.
We are in love
Haven’t you heard
How we rock each other’s world
Clearly, she has now. In fact, given how petty and small-minded you have proven to be, I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that you personally invited all her friends, maybe sent them tickets too, and somehow made sure she would watch the concert on MTV.
I’m with the skater boy
I said, “See you later, boy
I’ll be backstage after the show”
I would say I like you recycling the “see you later, boy” phrase in a different context, but sadly I’m too busy swallowing back vomit and further profanities.
I’ll be at a studio
Singing the song we wrote
About a girl you used to know
So you’re also involved in the singing? Are you in the band as well? There was zero indication of this before. It’s almost as if…
So, that’s it. Now, just like in Murder on the Orient Express, I have two options for you. Unlike in Murder on the Orient Express, however, neither of these options are preferable. So take your pick, but know that your decision has no effect on the conclusion that Avril Lavigne, lamentably, is a colossal cunt.
Option one is that the whole story took place as retold, Avril is with rich and famous skater boy (sorri, sk8er boi), and despite being an adult and living that high life, her favourite pastime is throwing shade on his man’s random crushes from his teenage years. Why, you ask? Maybe he beats her, fuck knows. To be clear, I’m not making a domestic violence joke, I’m genuinely trying to find a feasible explanation for this amount of aimless frustration in a woman in an apparently ideal situation. Either that, or she’s just a sociopath trying her hardest not to stab homeless people to death, in which case, yet again, good for you, Avril.
Option two is that skater boy, ballet girl and Avril are all in the same class in school, Avril has a thing for skater boy, but skater boy has a thing for ballet girl. Maybe they are already going out or something. Frustrated, Avril conjures up this whole scenario in her head where ballet girl is miserable and skater boy is rich and famous, and they got together. And that’s why she’s acting all petty and spiteful, because she resents ballet girl in real life, and this hatred infiltrates her fantasy as well. Now you might say this is easily the better option, and I would tend to agree with you, but then again, do you feel relieved watching the ending of American Psycho? All I will say is, skater boy, avoid the emo girl in the corner. Oh, and ballet girl. Run.
PART II – Fucking Punk Son of a Bitch
Is Tony Montana truly a punk, as dying crooked cop Mel Bernstein suggests, or is it just misplaced criticism on his part? We do know that he’s not a son of a bitch, as we happen to know his mother, a lovely and decent lady; therefore, Mel might just completely miss the target on both accounts. It could be said that Tony plays the game of capitalism better than anyone (save for his jungle buddy, Alex), and as such he’s no punk at all, but you could also argue that he is an outlaw and follows no rules but his own, which does make him somewhat punkish.
Be that as it may, one thing we can say with absolute certainty: Avril Lavigne is not, by any extension, stretching, twisting, defiling of the definition, a punk. You see, words have meanings (shut up, postmodern onanologists, nobody asked you). And in order to maintain a meaningful conversation, we need to have a similar notion of what the meanings of certain words are; otherwise we would try to convey a message using words that mean something to us, and the recipient decodes a completely different message, as for them the words we have used mean something radically different. And yes, there will always be some difference in interpretation; if I say dog, I might think of a German shepherd, my neighbour might think of a poodle, and someone at 90s Death Row Records might think of one of their recording artists. And this is all fine as long as we understand these differences, and as long as Suge Knight knows that ‘dog’ foremost denotes a kind of animal, and that their particular usage of the term is incidental and will not, cannot, and shall not aim to replace or overshadow the original meaning.
The bastardization of genres is a prominent and general tendency across all artforms, and as such is true for all genres of music. It is perfectly valid to point out that the degeneration of rap from Tupac and the Wu Tang Clan through 50 Cent and Macklemore to Cardi B and Lil Pump is a steady and alarmingly steep decline, and we will surely touch on the subject in a later issue of random guy rants about cultural entropy. (And yes, I know there’s still good stuff out there, but it’s still not always worth digging through the colossal turd mountain to reach it, sadly.) But. Rap is a musical genre, that sometimes (less and less often) brings up interesting topics, or addresses known issues from a new perspective. Punk, though, is an attitude, a very particular set of values (or lack thereof) and, frankly, of politicized opinions on all matters current and timeless. Punk is anti-capitalist, anti-authoritarian, anti-consumerist and nonconformist. And everything else – the music, the hair- and clothing styles, the drugs, the violent attitude etc. – are just different representations of the ideology, and are, frankly, all optional. NWA was a rap group, and they were still punk. Malcolm X wore a suit and a tie and he was still a punk. Rosa Parks was a lady sitting on a bus, and she was a punk. Edward Snowden is a computer geek and a former government agency employee, and he’s a punk. Osip Mandelstam was an intellectual, an academic, a poet – and punk. Bob Dylan doesn’t smash his (acoustic!) guitars or lights his harmonica (!) on fire, nor does he shout and scream on stage, and yet, you guessed it – punk. In general, it helps to look at what someone says or does when trying to decide what ideology they represent, rather than whether or not they wear stripes or have funny coloured and/or shaped hair.
I want to leave you with an interesting comparison between arguably the two musicians most often associated with punk. One is Sid Vicious, the other is Avril Lavigne — I’ll let you guess which is which. (Both texts are directly copied from Wikipedia. I’ll leave the pronouns as they are, as maybe you are indeed as stupid as Avril assumes you are in the opening of Sk8er Boi; also because I can’t be bothered.)
Due to intravenous drug use, […] was hospitalized with hepatitis during the recording of the Sex Pistols’ only studio album, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols; his bass is only partially featured on one song, “Bodies.” […] later appeared as a lead vocalist, performing three songs, on the soundtrack to The Great Rock ‘n’ Roll Swindle (1980), a largely fictionalised documentary about the Sex Pistols.
As the Sex Pistols were gaining attention, […] met Nancy Spungen, and the couple began a relationship that culminated in Spungen’s death from an apparent stab wound while staying in New York City’s Hotel Chelsea with […]. Under suspicion of murder, […] was released on bail; he was arrested again for assaulting Todd Smith, brother of Patti Smith, at a nightclub, and underwent drug rehabilitation on Rikers Island. He died in 1979 after overdosing on heroin.
(…)
In 2006, […], along with the four original members of the Sex Pistols, was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, although the band refused to attend.
By the age of 15, she had appeared on stage with Shania Twain, and by 16, she had signed a two-album recording contract with Arista Records worth more than $2 million.
[…]’s debut studio album, Let Go (2002), included the singles “Complicated” and “Sk8er Boi”, which emphasized a skate punk persona and earned her the title “Pop Punk Queen” from music publications. She is considered a key musician in the development of pop punk music since she paved the way for female-driven, punk-influenced pop music in the early 2000s. Her second studio album, Under My Skin (2004), became […]’s first album to reach the top of the Billboard 200 chart in the United States, going on to sell 10 million copies worldwide.
[…]’s third studio album, The Best Damn Thing (2007), reached number one in seven countries worldwide and saw the international success of its lead single “Girlfriend”, which became her first single to reach the top of the Billboard Hot 100 in the United States. Her fourth and fifth studio albums, Goodbye Lullaby (2011) and Avril Lavigne (2013), saw continued commercial success and were both certified gold in Canada, the United States, and other territories. In 2019, […] released her sixth studio album, Head Above Water.
In addition to music, […] voiced Heather, a Virginia opossum, in the animated film Over the Hedge (2006), and made her screen acting debut in Fast Food Nation (2006).
(I guess I have to say this: no, I’m not saying doing drugs is cool. I’m also not saying it’s not cool; but above all I don’t think it’s anyone’s business but yours, once you’re an adult. I’m really not saying stabbing people or assaulting them with bike chains is cool, and I do think that such stuff should definitely be penalised. What I am saying, though, is for anyone to be considered punk, you absolutely need to take seemingly or actually stupid risks, not caring about the serious consequences for yourself and potentially others as well. Like it or hate it, that’s what punk is.)
(But really, how cool could it have been if a somehow-still-alive Sid Vicious released an album titled Avril Lavigne in 2013?)
Pop! Goes the Weasel 