Bo Burnham is a lanky young caucasian man in his early twenties with a mop of unsurprising brown disheveled hair and the face of an unbothered sprite. He has flamboyant tendencies (which he will not ignore), yet he wears a plain white shirt and black jeans during most of his stand-up performances. His comedic style is very socially confrontational, musical, and unique.
In his 2013 comedy special, “what.,” Bo Burnham tackles a host of societal problems through a deeply personal lens, providing insights about the world around him that could be latched onto by any audience member while inviting a deeper analysis into his own life and his own struggles as an awkward, “gay-ish” young adult.
The medium through which Bo delivers his diverse witticisms manifests itself in the form of a highly exaggerated character. Bo takes on the mask of an extremely arrogant, unapologetically privileged “asshole.” At the same time, he broadcasts a kind of fundamental ignorance, a lack of understanding of unwritten social rules and non-literal meanings. He fails to recognize the ironies of his own arrogance, he displays copious amounts of hubris, and he approaches his life as if his white, male, misogynistic agenda has great importance to the advancement of human society.
This character, Bo’s asshole alter ego, is perfectly exemplified in “Repeat Stuff,” a highly ironic musical tribute to the tragic state of commercialized “love songs” and the appeal of today’s popular culture for all the wrong reasons. Most of Bo’s comedy takes the form of typical pop ballads, and this sketch takes a jab at his own medium while making a pointed commentary on the harmful faux-deepness of today’s formulaic pop music machines.
Bo notes the incongruity- the gap between the kind of world displayed in the songs of today’s Justin Biebers, Jason Derulos, and One Directions and the current state of the world itself- and adds humor through clever rhymes. Because of his assumed persona, he does not directly make value judgments regarding the target of his satire, the overgeneralized and fake “love songs” of today. However, his comedy is successful in applying the “show, don’t tell” strategy and clearly demonstrates the issues with these staples of today’s popular culture in a way that guides the audience to conclude that the system is seriously flawed.
In order to do this, Bo’s persona has written a “love song” of his own, one that matches the new format of today’s pop ballads. He begins with a hushed whisper of “Jason Derulo,” a nod to the pop singer’s odd tendency to say his own name before proceeding with his song. On the recording of one of Bo’s live shows, it can be heard that this incites quite a good bit of laughter. He labels these musicians as ignorant and naive because of the transparency in their deception.
He paints an exaggerated picture through his “sample song” in which he describes a ridiculously general woman with eyes of a “bluish-brownish-greenish” color, unique fingerprints, and a torso with arms on either side. It is clear that this message is dangerously impersonal, and Bo claims that the transparency of this fakeness is a testament to the ineptitude of its creators.
Plainly, he points out that the songs are so clearly marketed to apply to the most teenage girls at one time that they become ridiculously vague and lose all value. Bo’s attack on the integrity of today’s popular songwriters like Jason Derulo operates as a kind of leveling humor because it exposes hypocrisy among those with greater power (i.e. millionaires like Jason Derulo) and uses laughter to transfer some of this power to his audience members and viewers. It renders them immune to his transparent deceptions. In a telling line, Bo sings
“I know it’s not right. I know it’s not funny.
But I’ll stop beating this dead horse
When it stops spitting out money.”
Bo puts his caricature in the category of money-guzzling, thoughtless buffoon songwriter. He empowers the audience by a) alerting them to the injustices of these vultures exploiting young teenage girls for monetary gain and b) allowing them to laugh at their perceived superiors. This empowerment allows for a shift in the structure of power and a reduction of the weight given to the works of these popular artists.
Bo goes on to expose other faults of modern love ballads with the chorus of the song. With less of a chorus and more of a demonic chant, he goes on to continually repeat the words “repeat stuff” in an effort to point out the repetitive and shallow nature of today’s popular lyrics. The entire skit also has an underlying feminist tone. The songs are hetero-normative, written by men, performed by men, and directed at girls.
With the power and platform given to popular artists today, it's interesting to go back and watch Bo perform this hauntingly accurate and genius satire.
