In DJ Lance Rock We Trust

The nominees for the 2011 Daytime Emmys have been announced, and two nominations landed in my household like a thunderous bass beat: Yo Gabba Gabba scored two nods.

The hold this show has over my son cannot be overstated; what’s more difficult to explain is the hold the show has over me. I am not, in general, interested in children’s shows any more than the average 30-year-old male, beyond a faint nostalgia for Sesame Street or the cartoons of my youth. Yo Gabba Gabba, though, remains a fascination.

For those unfamiliar with the most popular television show in the 3-and-under demographic (at least in the Mayotte household), the show centers around a DJ who may have some funk-derived magical powers and plays host to five toys who come to life and perform brief quasi-pedagogical stories. There are also musical guests, “cool trick” demonstrations, knock-knock jokes, and Biz Markie beat-boxing.

I believe there are two main draws for adults to this children’s program: one IS base and temporal, while the second is deeply woven into the fabric of Yo Gabba Gabba, knitting it into the long line of human storytelling.

On the first, Yo Gabba Gabba (YGG) always has the most amazing musical guests. Nearly every episode features some indie darling playing an original song. It can be jarring, the juxtaposition of large, plush creatures prancing about dancing to The Roots or Band of Horses.

While kids simply like the music, regardless of the hipster cred, these appearances are like the 21^st-century version of The Beatles' Fan Club Christmas albums. Rare one-offs, guesting on the Super Music Friends Show allows the bands and their fans to experience something off-album and unusual. There’s nothing more exciting than watching a new episode of YGG and the turban-hatted announcer (shades of Jambi and Jambi and YGG’s forbearer, Peewee’s Playhouse, but that’s a topic for another day) shouts out the name of the day’s band. The Aggrolites with “Banana”! Datarock and “Smile for the Camera”! I giggle more than my son.

On the second, the characters of YGG represent archetypes instruct far more than the often nebulous or trite surface lessons of the show.

DJ Lance Rock is the Creator, quite literally the Big Guy in the Sky. From him, all things flow. He carries the boombox, which transports the other characters to Gabba Land, and brings them to life by calling out their names.

In one episode, DJ Lance creates a mountain from thin air. His thoughts become reality, and without DJ Lance, the others are nothing but lifeless statuettes. He is pleasant but removed, sometimes merely providing narration to a problem, sometimes forcing a resolution. He is an Old Testament Creator. Through DJ Lance, we learn that there exists a higher plane than the one we live in, beyond the limits of our simple cave. DJ Lance’s world is a blank canvas, stark white and limitless. His world, beyond the borders of Gabba Land, is a child’s first brush with the infinite.

Plex, a “magic robot,” represents science, the belief that problems can be solved through rational thought. Always ready with a solution, Plex can be domineering and cold. It is not unusual for Plex to laugh at Brobee’s lack of understanding or to correct Muno’s misconceptions. Plex has no designated, themed portion of Gabba Land, as the other characters do; instead he has a mysterious closet packed with machinery behind a hidden door. Likewise, science and machines underpin our modern existence without actually giving us a place to live. Science can manipulate, but unlike DJ Lance Rock, it cannot create. Further, Plex’s reliance on rationality leaves him immune to the emotion of the other Gabbites, emotion that is critical to the full human experience. Plex is no more magic than the television set that beams him into our homes, but in adherence to Clark’s Third Law, his powers appear to be so to the open-mouthed child.

Brobee, a little green monster, is the raging Id of the powerless child, aware of his smallness in relation to the outside world and unable to do anything to better his situation. One episode, “Big,” centers around DJ Lance hearing Brobee’s pleas and granting his wish to be, for once, big. With his wish granted, though, Brobee had to face the fact that he was mentally incapable of handling the lonesomeness of command, and instead had to return penitent to DJ Lance, asking to be returned to his rightful place in the hierarchy of Gabba Land. When Brobee submits to the fate that DJ Lance has set for him, he finds satisfaction, though regrettably short-lived. His striving and failing reminds us of the ultimate human condition of failure, and our inability to ever overcome the conditions set for us by a capricious Overseer.

Muno, that perambulatory red phallus, is masculinity embodied. He loves cowboys and worms, but fears interaction with those outside his clan. Introduction to strangers can be difficult for Muno, as his allegiances are tribal and inviolable. The interaction between the petulance of Brobee and the rock steady patience of Muno emulates that parent-child relationship, as they attempt to strike a balance between adherence to raw emotion and submission to strictures.

Foofa, pink and permanently flowered, offers a view of femininity not seen in any other Gabbites. Softspoken and gentle, Foofa is kindness. When all the YGG friends pretend to be superheroes, Foofa’s chosen power is helping plants to grow. Often relegated to the background or as a bit player, Foofa stands as a warning for female viewers. Pigeonholed and non-aggressive, Foofa is trapped under Gabba Land’s glass ceiling. This is not to say that domesticity is an unfair fate; Foofa seems satisfied with her lot in life. However, she lacks balance in her outlook, and, for this, she will never grow as the plants she adores.

Toodee, as the YGG theme song says, likes to have fun. She is not, though, the untempered emotionalism of Brobee; her fun is structured and controlled. Although (apparently) female, Toodee doesn’t exhibit the prototypical feminism of Foofa. Toodee exists without the hangups of the other characters; she exists in the moment, seeking naught but a healthy, measured pleasure. Toodee is the Zen philosopher of Gabba Land. Free from the gender complexes of Muno and Foofa, wisely aloof from the cold rationality of Plex, beyond the raw emotion of Brobee, Toodee alone can be fully satisfied in Gabba Land—because, ultimately, Toodee would be satisfied anywhere. Aware and respectful of DJ Lance but not beholden to him, Toodee worships the outdoors and communion with nature. Alone of the Friends, she takes up an offer to fly with the mystical butterfly at the top of Gabba mountain. The others have too many concerns to even try; Toodee knows nothing but trust and excitement. Of all the characters, Toodee is  the one who we should seek to emulate. We could never have the power or position of DJ Lance, and his example is better suited for other deities. Toodee, though, lives with us, showing us that peace can be found on our plane.

To watch Yo Gabba Gabba and dismiss it as a child’s show, albeit one with some wild psychotropic elements, is to miss the Shakespearean thematic elements that truly drive the program. No smarmy import like The Wiggles, nor elder statesman like Sesame Street, Gabba Land is place where we can explore our choices and our character and find our place in the modern world.  

In DJ Lance Rock We Trust.