You may think you don’t know me at all after you read this. I am thinking the same thing as I write it. I love the new Justin Bieber album.
Well, I love most of it. The first seven songs. And I’m not alone. It’s up for five Juno awards, which is a big deal or no deal at all anymore, since they stopped giving them out to “our” artists.
So, how did I end up with the latest Justin Bieber album, having never owned or really listened to anything by him before? Santa popped it into my stocking after having second thoughts about giving it to someone younger. Just for kicks, and with a whole lot of skepticism, I popped Purpose into our kitchen radio/cd player. And I found myself bopping my head to the beat as I chopped vegetables.
I took it with me in my car, and found myself going back to hear certain songs again. Once they became a bit familiar, I sang along. And this may be the most surprising thing of all – as I drove and listened, the artist who came to mind was Michael Jackson. I could envision some of these songs actually lasting a while. They’re catchy pop tunes that stuck in my head long after I turned the CD off. I know, I was surprised too.
The best song, in my opinion, is Love Yourself, a stripped-down tune with lots of background vocals that sounds like it could have been recorded while everyone was sitting around in a studio, just tapping on whatever was close at hand. I love the lyrics. My Mama don’t like you, and she likes everyone. The song’s message is like Cee-Lo’s Forget You, with a kinder, gentler approach. Hate him or just hate him a little, the kid can sing.
Pop music has always been, well, poppy. I grew up on Top 40 radio and disco and pop as well as the Eagles, Aerosmith, Supertramp and the other bands that had respect and longevity. There’s a place in my eclectic music collection for cotton candy, as well as a steak dinner. I haven’t lost my marbles: I won’t be going to any of his concerts or signing up for newsletters! But I will plop the CD into rotation once in a while and I’m (almost) not embarrassed to admit it.