Sunday, December 20, 2015

the renaissance of justin bieber

it began as a whisper.

"3, 2, SWAG."

some will debate me on this, but i hold that the seeds of justin bieber's ultimate comeback were planted at the 2012 release of his slick, hip-hop flavored single "boyfriend."

most of us who weren't 13 year-old girls kept mum about our enjoyment of the song, but secretly grooved along in our cars and apartments with very palpable shame. still, there was something bubbling beneath the surface. something substantial. something ... swaggy. something not unlike the hot fondue that sir biebs speaks of consuming while chillin' by the fire in the song.

although this was well before the era of the makeshift mop bucket urinal, the anne frank faux pas, the fast and the furious 25: bieb takes miami, and his infamous angelic mugshot, there was still a general sourness and animosity towards JB. the image of his middle school bowl cut and smug smirk, plastered on the bedroom walls of our younger siblings and cousins, remained etched in our minds as the everlasting image of a perpetual spoiled brat whom we had no desire to welcome into our reasonable, mature lives.

oh, how the tide has turned. i can't pinpoint the exact moment in time when our collective grinch hearts grew three sizes for the little punk, but i'd estimate that it was somewhere between martha stewart's cougar come-ons at his comedy central roast and the soulful, mumbled plea of "be more straightforward" in his recent release "what do you mean?" then, just as we were all amped up and frothing at the mouths and joining hands to celebrate our newfound acknowledgment of the human jam factory, the VMAs rolled around.

during his redemptive performance, bieber flew over the stage like a goddamn angel with asymmetrical, bleach-blonde hair, and promptly burst into tears upon his perfectly-orchestrated landing. sympathy, whether warranted or not? check. he didn't stop there, though. "sorry," the lite club banger of our dreams, exploded onto the scene shortly thereafter, and nobody went wilder for it than notoriously pretentious brooklyn hipsters. like a musical santa claus, spotify knows who's been naughty, who's been nice, and who's listening to excessive, 19-song albums by reformed canadian pop stars.

even selena gomez, who's almost as famous for breaking the lil' guy's heart as she is in her own right, isn't immune to his charms. rumblings of a romantic reunion have been swirling around the blogosphere -- and as the saying goes, where there's smoke, there's probably justin sharing a joint with selena in a VIP booth.

who knows how long this precious embrace will last, but i plan to ride the sweet bieber wave until i wipe out, man. the pop culture climate is forever changing and incredibly fickle, and tomorrow could bring with it a renewed hatred for our regrettably-tattooed knight in shining supras. so for now, let's just hold onto a moment in time. the fleeting period, however brief, that encourages us all to unapologetically announce to the world that not only do we believe ... but that we're beliebers.

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