A summer internship at a teen magazine can do strange things to a writer. Around this time last year, I was studying in Chocolatea, listening to Bon Iver; now, I could tell you what Miley Cyrus is doing at any given moment.
Surprisingly enough, listening to music intended for an audience roughly a decade younger than yourself causes some serious introspection.
Do I have that “One Thing” that One Direction sings about? What does “Chasing the Sun” really mean? Would I be flaunting my social awkwardness if I asked someone to “Call Me Maybe?”
I then got around to thinking about the music I was listening to before I hit puberty, and my mind raced to the one, the only, the first man I ever loved: Mr. Justin Timberlake.
For those of you not obsessed with pop stars of the 90s, the people of Justin Timberlake’s entourage toyed with the emotions of every female over the age of 18 this summer when they announced that Justin Timberlake was recording new music, and then retracted said statement.
In other words? Sexy is not coming back anytime soon, and I’ve resigned myself to donning all black and sitting in my apartment, playing FutureSex/LoveSounds on repeat.
For those of you that were not born in this country and therefore did not experience *NSYNC mania, allow me to introduce you to the greatness that is Justin Timberlake.
You should know that he gave women everywhere an eargasm when he hit his first high notes as a member of *NSYNC. You could hear the suffering Britney Spears caused him on his first solo single, “Cry Me A River,” and at the end of the 4 minutes and 48 seconds of funkified bitterness, you were writing her hate mail, goshdarnit.
If you haven’t heard FutureSex/LoveSounds, arguably the greatest pop album of our time, then you probably live with a troll under a bridge.
Justin Timberlake did the impossible when he brought sexy back/put his dick in a box, and as hasn’t released a single in five-plus years, an undoubtedly inferior substitute has emerged: Justin Bieber.
Though the 18 year old Usher prodigy has sold 15 million albums and has a greater Twitter influence than Barack Obama or The Dalai Lama, he can never compare to Justin Timberlake’s fantastical nature.
For some qualitative evidence, allow us to take a gander at the Justins’ lyrics:
Upon meeting a prospective lady love:
Timberlake: “Well baby I’ve been around the world/But I ain’t seen myself another girl/like you.”
Bieber: “When I met you girl, my heart went, ‘Knock, knock.’”
Maybe someone should inform the Biebs that the phrase, “Knock, knock” is usually followed by, “Who’s there?” Men of the world, listen up: make like Mr. Timberlake and melt the heart of the girl you’re talking to. Unless, of course, you haven’t seen another girl like her because she’s so ugly. In which case, don’t quote either Justin.
On acquiring a girlfriend:
Timberlake (here functioning as an *NSYNC representative): “If you were my girlfriend/I’d be your shining star/The one to show you where you are.”
Bieber: “If I was your boyfriend, I’d never let you go/Tell me what you like, yeah, tell me what you don’t/I could be your Buzz Lightyear, fly across the globe/I don’t never wanna fight, yeah you already know/I’mma make you shine bright like you’re lying in the snow./Brrr.”
Though catchy, it’s clear that Bieber’s lyrics have little to no continuity.
Also, as a Toy Story fan, I don’t believe that Buzz Lightyear was ever considered to be a sex symbol. And while I’m not Canadian and don’t remember anything from elementary school science, I can almost definitively say that snow does not have the powers of human luminescence.
On the perfect date:
Timberlake: “I can see us holding hands/Walking on the beach, our toes in the sand/I can see us on the country side/Sitting on the grass, laying side by side/You could be my baby, let me make you my lady.”
Bieber: “Swag, swag, swag, on you/Chillin’ by the fire while we eatin’ fondue/I dunno about me but I know about you/so say hello to falsetto in three, two.”
You’d be hard-pressed to find someone that wouldn’t want to go on a date to The Melting Pot. That place is pretty sick. Call me crazy, but I’m just the kind of girls that prefers hanging out at the beach to fondue. (I know, concerning.)
And unless he was an Allnighter, if a guy asked me if I wanted to “say hello to his falsetto,” I think I’d run from that relationship — fast.
Justin Timberlake, you win all of the rounds. Cue “We Are the Champions” and “Eye of the Tiger.”
There you have it, folks: qualitative and quantitative evidence that Justin Timberlake is, in fact, better than Bieber, if not, the best male vocalist of our time. Until next time I imagine a Celebrity Smackdown, dear reader, this is Arts & Entertainment Editor Devin Alessio, signing off.
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