Clairo in Columbus and the Consequences of TikTok
We went to Clairo on the same day the mask mandate was lifted on campus. It took a few Instagram posts and a lot of wheedling to convince someone to go with me to the Clairo concert at KEMBA Live! Anxiety about COVID was one factor. For the most part, however, my friends balked at the thought of driving an hour into Columbus to stand in a crowd of exclusively teenagers (never mind the fact that we were teenagers two years ago).
They were right to be cautious. When we got into the venue, we were surrounded by teens in Y2K apparel. It was the first time I’ve ever been aware of myself as the oldest person in a room in that way. The venue is huge, and the crowd predominantly occupied the standing spaces- they were ready to dance. This was our first red flag, considering her new album Sling is a much less dance-centric album than Clairo’s previous releases. I was excited about the growth that this record revealed in Clairo, especially lyrically. I grew concerned that the crowd wouldn’t be as ready to embrace this level of change. Nevertheless, we tried to reserve judgments and enjoy the opener.
Arlo Parks was the opening performance. Her voice was soft and more delicate than it sounded on the album. She danced across the stage, even smiling wickedly toward the lighting crew at one point: “Sorry guys- I like to wander.” Parks’ stage presence is bouncing and connective. She was clad in a white t-shirt and gym shorts. It’s rare to see someone like her on stage presenting such a balance of masculinity within softness. The tenderness of her physical appearance paired well with her sensitive lyrics about witnessing a couple fighting (“Caroline”) and longing to help a friend with depression (“Black Dog”). It was impressive how an artist whose lyrics are laden with wistfulness could create such an energetic performance.
Clairo presented a stark contrast to Parks’ loose, breezy energy. The stage was lit with cool, blue tones cast from spherical white lanterns on stage. Hand-drawn animations played on a projector behind her. I was reminded of 60s artists like Buddy Holly looking at Clairo planted behind the microphone in her too-big suit and unbrushed hair.
Photo by Sydney Fallon
Unfortunately, it wasn’t Clairo’s best show and she knew it. Five songs in, she revealed that she had a sinus infection. Later, she cried after bringing Arlo Parks onstage to sing “Blouse,” a ballad about the sexualization she has faced as a young female artist. Parks’ buttery warm vocals paired well with Clairo’s on the gently mournful piece. Over the soft chrous, someone behind me mutters that they don’t like her hair. Another yells “Play ‘Bubble Gum!’” The crowd didn’t want this Clairo, this suit-clad adult singing about the suicide hotline and longing for motherhood.
Clairo brightens up for the first time in the entire show when she plays “Joanie.” “This is a song about my dog, who I love very much. I hope when I play it, you can sort of close your eyes and imagine your own dog, if you have one, running around, or, you know, doing whatever dogs do.” Behind her, a screen shows a sunny animation of a dog running through a field of flowers. She plays about a quarter of the song before the audience starts whispering over her. It peters out into another one of her viral hits- “Sofia.”
The audience response at this show presented a really strong dissonance between the goal of the artist and the wishes of the audience at this show. Clairo’s previous album was all about young love and naïveté, sung with a tinge of loneliness over dreamy pop beats. Sling is a completely different beast- call it Jack Antonoff’s influence or maybe just the simple result of immense growth after several years adjusting to life in the music industry. Sling’s lyrics are steeped in images of winter snow, of domesticity and loneliness, of longing for family. It features more mature themes, and it makes sense that this particular audience doesn’t resonate with them. How many seventeen-year-olds can relate to yearning for motherhood?
Clairo’s outward sensitivity is something that makes her music so popular, but it can be alienating when that sensitivity reveals a lack of awareness to the space she occupies. She openly rolls her eyes when a fan shouts, “Hit the slay button! Also sing your part from ‘Solar Power!’” It’s understandable why Clairo is irritated by a heckler demanding that she sing a harmony from someone else’s single during a concert where she’s attempting to express a more tonally adult (and therefore independent) album.
Clairo’s own confidence in her ability to disengage from disrespectful fans without fear of losing their support is something that her audience often finds fault in. A lot of the anxieties that Clairo presents can also be perceived as luxuries, considering her privilege as a white woman whose success is often attributed to her close access to a broader network of music executives than other newcomers coming from digital spaces. Clairo’s initial success came from the release of the viral video Pretty Girl, but praise of the video was quickly followed by claims on TikTok and Twitter that she was an industry plant whose success could be credited to her father’s position as an executive at the recording studio where she recorded her first album. The privilege that may have elevated Clairo’s rise to success can make it easy to reject her visible reactions to unwanted audience interaction as uppity or ungrateful.
That being said, the privilege of the artist does not negate the fact that she’s not asking for much. Sling embodies the now experienced artist’s disillusionment with the music industry’s commodification of the female artist. The lyrics often hopelessly accept defeat instead of righteously demanding respect. “Blouse,” the first single released from Sling, addresses sexualization in the entertainment industry with the lyrics: “Why do I tell you how I feel/when you’re too busy looking down my blouse?” After she sang this line in concert, she burst into tears. Someone in the audience yelled, “You’re so hot!”
The sexualization and disrespect shown toward female artists are being met with at shows is nothing new, but it is disturbing. It’s disappointing to see younger audiences recreating exclusive and harmful spaces at concerts, especially by artists that actively ask to be accepted as they are.
— Sydney Fallon