And, after an extensive Google search (read: two seconds), I am happy to report that my use of the term album, in and of itself, does not actually date me. (Mmmhmm. I do research for this small-potatoes, limited-readership blog so I don’t steer my tens of readers astray.) (And, for reference / future use in your own personal conversations, you can use the term album, release, music, RECORD, or recording to describe a collection of tunes that were released together. RECORD – I mean, really. I would have thought that applied soley to vinyl and gone out with the introduction of the CD… a term which should actually be extinct according to Jim Farber over at the New York Daily News. Interesting that record and album are the seemingly indomitable terms decade after decade. I credit the lasting music that was hot when these terms came into play – can’t be a coincidence, can it? 😉 )
Anyway, back to the topic at hand.
I am 40.
I bought a Justin Bieber album.
For myself. Not Gavin and Grace.
It’s my first. (Go ahead an breathe a sigh of relief. We can still be friends, right? Me owning one Bieber album doesn’t make you disavow yourself from speaking to me, right?)
I am kind of obsessed with it. (Still friends?)
And I am wondering if there are others like me. I mean, I guess what I am asking is this: is there / should there be a support group for 40+ years olds who have managed thus far to shun the Biebs, but are spiraling towards fangirling with the release of Purpose.
Hi, my name is Bridget. I am 40.
I live in (what are technically not, but really are) the suburbs with my husband, two kids and golden retriever.
And I just bought my first Bieber album.
I am here for an intervention before I become a full-on Belieber.
Also, can you fangirl at 40? or is it fanwomaning? I digress. (Wait – one more: Fanma’aming? Hahaha. The favorite terms of all gals over 30. Fanma’am. Admit it – it’s kinda catchy. Coined!)
The fact that a full Bieber album now sits in my iTunes collection is especially surprising — mostly to me, perhaps my father, and definitely my brother, Kevin. I am 99% sure my brother Dennis and I spent a full Christmas break in recent years ridiculing our brother Kevin for earnestly telling us that he liked Justin Bieber. I mean the kid said SHAWTY in a Christmas song. Honestly. Let’s chalk it up to him twinning Bieber in his late teens as shown in the feature picture, shall we? (Kev – Is it too late now to say sorry? Sing it with me now!)
I am mostly surprised because Top 40 / pop was never really my thing. I probably can’t name any of the songs on the American Top 40 right now. Unless, of course, they are on Biebs’ new album. (For the record, he currently bookends the top five; with three songs on the list overall. I mean, I am no Robert Christgau, but I’d venture that means something. #fanmaam)
My disdain for the Biebs has been ongoing and real and made regular appearances in family dialogue. Most recently, Kenny was telling me a ‘funny story’ about friend from work saying something along the lines of “I’m not sure how I’m gonna keep hatin’ on Bieber if he keeps putting out bangers. I mean, it’s banger after banger with that guy lately.” And we laughed and laughed and thought we still hated Bieber.
Fast forward. I am waiting in my car to pick up Gavin and Grace. I am mindlessly listening to Radio Disney like I imagine a lot of moms do. A song comes on the radio. It’s not R5 or Sabrina Carpenter (hooray), and, from the very first notes, I am in. All in. It was bouncy and fresh and upbeat and fun. And I loved the lyrics. (And those of you who have known me for a long time know I am a sucker for lyrics. It’s the writer in me.)
I flick my eyes to the screen.
And then I may have cried a little.
A Bieber song?
And I downloaded What Do You Mean? right then and there, and played it on a loop until we got home.
It’s spiraled from there: I pretty much know all the words to multiple songs on the album. Love Yourself is genius – just a brilliant way to politely tell someone to well…you know.
I could, however, do without the dramatic, self-reflective monologues. (We’re definitely still friends now that I called that out, right? See? I haven’t completely lost it.)