Poolside with Sky Ferreira's "One"

Constantly documenting the emerging teen pop stars of today frequently reminds me of Wooderson’s timeless quote from Dazed and Confused – “I get older, they stay the same age.” Not that Sky Ferreira’s 17-year-old perspective scares me for the future of our youth, quite the contrary. When a single as ebullient and catchy as “One” finally dominates and wins one for team, I actually feel some hope for the next generation as I wither away, secretly obsessing over a pop song so laced in ephemeral euphoria, I’m amazed when it stays in the playlist past June. But it is June. The official beginning of W.O.W.’s Endless Summer and it’s high time I give y’all a perfect mix to soundtrack your barbecues and late-night reefer cruises through city streets.

Judging how many times I’ve listened to “One” since discovering it 48 hours ago, there’s really no better way to start the Poolside Class of 2010. The past few months I was hoping English tart, Ellie Goulding, would have raided American shores by now, but to no avail. I even suggested to her in November (if she was reading), that she should be aping Kate Bush if she wants to get ahead on the trends likely to make the rounds for pop singers of her ilk in this young decade. Can’t understand why she hasn’t caught on? Maybe the accent, the movement, the stateliness, is a bit to sharp for teens in the States?

Sky, on the other hand, has hooked up with a producer here (Bloodshy and Avant) who seem to know exactly what they’re doing with the artist – even injecting the first twenty seconds of “One” with what sounds exactly like the twilight of Bush’s “Running Up That Hill.” Of course, American audiences couldn’t get with the esoteric kings-und-queens lace in Bush’s songwriting, so “One” quickly moves to a hyphy-electro track which takes cues from both Cut Copy and any number of chillwave aesthetes who don’t possibly have this range of equipment to produce themselves saliency in the mainstream. Big budget pop stars will prevail, as long as they do it right. This song has everything built in for Sky – the faux-DJ-glitchy repetition in her verses, the rapidly ascending neon synths, and the skittered beat rubik’s-cubing beneath it all. Then there’s the image. They already got her covering Stevie Nicks, looking heroin-chic yet plastered as if a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper exploded on her face. She’s got the style of a ‘70s air-conditioned, crystal-worshipping, expensive-coke-snorting diva and the innocence of watermelon-flavored Hubba Bubba.

Kids, this is POP at its absolute apex. We've come a long way from Debbie Gibson. Ke$ha be warned, your days are numbered.

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