An Open Letter to JT

It seems like things haven’t been going too well for you lately. Not only does “4 Minutes” suck – and I mean like, really, really suck. What the hell were you thinking? All I can picture when I hear this song is Madonna methed out of her gourd, screaming for a chai latte, while you have sex with Lindsay Lohan on a mixing console and Timbaland picks a discarded beat at random from his hard drive, holds a microphone in the air and chops up the various screams inundating the recording studio into something resembling vocals, then booking it as fast as he can back to the beach. I mean what the fuck?

And not only that, but Lance doesn’t seem too pleased with you. And, based on his tell all, I can only imagine what Chris, JC, and Joey (well maybe not Joey, he’s probably too concerned with his “career” to burn any bridges) have to say. But I know, I know. Big deal, Lance Bass isn’t in your corner anymore whatever will you do. Well, let me remind you of a few things, dude.

First, remember the Jacksons? I’m not talking about the Jackson Five here. I’m talking about the Jacksons. Even after they left Motown Jackie, Michael, Tito, Randy and Marlon kept having hits. Hits you probably forgot about and I probably haven’t ever even heard – but that doesn’t matter. Wikipedia says “Dancing Machine” and “Shake Your Body” were top ten hits and who am I to argue. I’m sure them shits made tons of cash. Tons of cash man. And the tours? They kept touring into the 80s. You know how much money a tour makes? I’m sure you do, you’ve done tours. Big tours. Imagine those tours but bigger. Like, really big tours and money.

Obviously Michael had outgrown that shit, he knew he was destined to be a bigger star than the rest of his family. You knew that, too, at least by the time No Strings Attached came out, and understandably you wanted to do your own thing. And you have boy have you. Sure, who wouldn’t rather listen to the stuff you’ve done with Timbaland more than the stuff you did with fucking Max Martin, or, shit, Richard Marx? I had no idea. But still. There’s cash to be had, and there’s egos to be stroked. Other than yours.

Second, remember New Kids on the Block? “The 1st Boy Band”? Disputable sure, and their songs were never as good as yours no matter how you cut it, but they were big then and guess what, they have the number 57 single on the charts this week. That could be you in 2014. Think on it. The Backstreet Boys did it, too. These are guys who know how to run the business. You don’t burn your bridges, cause then it’s that much harder to grab that cash later on when Timbaland’s washed up, everyone’s listening to reggaetron and the people need a nostalgia fix. Maybe you don’t realize it now, but you’re gonna need Lance in your camp if you wanna be eating caviar into your golden years.

But, really, besides all of that, how awesome would a new N*Sync album be. With good songwriting and production, get Timbaland, get Palow, get fucking Richard X, you’d be better off with JC and the crew around. Real talk. It could be awesome. No Pearlman to fuck with your business, just 4 straight guys and 1 gay guy getting into a room and recording some sick tracks. You know it’s true. This is the album we’ve been waiting for since “Gone”. In a weird way, everyone only gets one boy band. I never got the Beatles, I never got BSB. I need N*Sync. How’m I spose to breathe with no ai-er?

Come home JT. We need you now as much as ever.

The Battle for the Throne -or- Bad Chocolate Factory LoveSounds

The battle, my friends, is being fought as we speak! As we sleep! As we while away the hours with the tiddlywinks of our generation (wii tennis.......

One of these days the war will be over, the dust will clear, and the world will have chosen the successor to the throne: and o a glorious day it will be I know. Michael Jackson has been dead for years as a human being, even as a public figure, as he lives now in Bahrain as a stuffed poodle thing propped in a corner to be bashed by 6 year olds at a Mexican style birthday party. Bahrain is tantamount to death and Michael Jackson is dead. I didn't want to believe it, even when certain people tried to foist "You Rock My World" on me as a posthumous reverse guilty pleasure "diamond in the rough" deep cut of sorts, I kind of believed it; at least I wanted to. But death in Bahrain is like the coffee at a coffee shop on a cold ass day when all you want is a chair and a space heater, and the king of pop is dead.

Who do we crown, then? Blanket? Do you want Barabbas?


As I see it we have a few pretenders to the crown at the moment. Decry the state of the industry as much as you want. Of course the bastards are putting nose to iceberg with the saintly slowness befitting such a noble crew of cowards and assholes, but that doesn't mean that we don't need a king, and that one won't be crowned wether they want it or not.

In figuring this all out though, the easiest thing to forget is that the key to MJ's kingly status was the fact that everyone, everywhere, loved the man. He was the same in Chicago, San Diego, St. Petersburg, and Dubai. When he dies, the world will have either forgotten about him, or they will weep blood as they did when his hair turned into flames during the Pepsi-Coke wars of the 80's (remember those? no? check this shit out then). This sort of international presence is years off to be conservative. But, Mitt Romney be damned, it doesn't hurt to start picking the winners early.

In one corner we have the great white hype, the only former member of N'sync about which not a whole lot more needs to be said. He's got all of the surface, all of the sheen, the correct holes to be filled and plugged by his producers and songwriters, and such fine stubble that most of his fans probably don't even know it's there. The wannabe, the groveling disciple behind the curtain, the friend of Ashton Kutcher.

Fuck people have been talking about that for years, ever since they realized how good at dancing he was. The parallels are obvious, but are Asian kids, are African kids, gonna idolize him? No, he's from the South, he's too obviously trying to transcend his race, and he's too stupid, something Michael never was, even if he was so totally engrossed in his own personal childhood that he seemed dangerously close to going over the edge. Bottom line is he wants it too much, and the record companies want it too much for him.

Rob Kelly is an entirely different story, and he's the one I'd pick to win. Ignoring, of course, his age, which at this point pretty much disqualifies him unless his next album totally turns the world on its ear and bankrupts the industry with promotional dollars. I mean, he can't dance, he probably won't ever win the hearts of little kids with the whole water drop aesthetic, but he's the authentic real deal out of the midwest, he's got the blend of street cred and upper class befuddled awe, and he's amazing.

Ok fine, he's not the next Michael Jackson, and to say so is close to ridiculous. But god damn the man is star like you don't believe! In a world where personality is all that matters, the guy gets rainbow gold cup every time on 150 cc. A savant is never gonna grab the masses like someone such as Timberlake will, but he's already changed how people listen to "R&B" music. We have the Are to blame for Akon, but let's not hold that against him. Personally, I say we give R. Kelly the crown right now and let the R make it rain over us measly peons. Let's let the R do that for us. (mmmmm!)