‘Justin Bieber’ and ‘Purpose’: bad brand, good music

I recently have found myself in the not-at-all unique position of liking Justin Bieber’s music. Not in a way like, when “What Do You Mean?” plays in a public setting, I casually mention, “I actually like this song, man” to people. That could be explained, if not understood. But I actively seek out the stuff, download it for repeated listenings, dance alone in my room to it. I genuinely enjoy Justin Bieber’s Purpose.

For some reason I feel guilty about this.

Maybe guilty isn’t the correct word. As a concept, ‘guilty pleasures’ are dull and shallow. No one should feel guilty over what they enjoy, particularly if they can defend its merit (though there’s no pressure to do this). The more accurate word would be cheap. After listening to Purpose, the Biebs’ new album, I’m left a bit unclean hours later. Sort of similar to a post-coital shame walk across a college campus the morning after: Elated tingling, but shriveled and limp like a used condom.

It’s not Justin Bieber’s fault; it’s the fault of ‘Justin Bieber’. The new, cleaned-up, crying-at-the-VMAs, self-mocking public persona cultivated for him. It started with The Roast of Justin Bieber, which despite its overt intentions, was crude, hilarious, and inflammatory. Then the Calvin Klein ads aimed at establishing him as a sex symbol (until Kate McKinnon parodied them on SNL). Don’t forget the stops at Ellen and Seacrest so he could ‘explain’ himself. The public parade never stopped.

This entire rollout of the redeemed Biebs, the polished veneer on the thing: I don’t like it. It’s too shiny.

We all knew for a long time Justin Bieber was an asshole. The details hardly matter. What did is the perception of him: a spoiled prick needing a right cross to the face…but no one would ever do that because he was worth too much money. Which made it worse. So we all thought he’d stay a dick. He would fade away as another pop star What If?

But then Justin Bieber disappeared only to reemerge as the white prince of dancehall and a devout Christian. He teamed with mega-producers like Skrillex, Diplo, and BLOOD and collaborated with musicians like Ed damn Sheeran, Halsey, and Travis Scott; it was like he was actively trying to earn serious underground cred. The kid who was nothing more than a high-grade variable in a type of pop-industry formula was creating, god-forbid, music.

That was my reaction when I first heard “Where Are U Now?” anyways. He followed that with the tortured soul glam shots in Interview and the hazy flippancy of his “Maria, I’m Drunk” rap verse from Travis Scott’s Rodeo. This was all very confusing. Had Justin Bieber returned as an artist? He seductively licked a knife and wore a killer clown mask in the artsiest mainstream publication. He rapped and he rapped well. Biebervelli earned that goddamn alter-ego rock star nickname of his. Shortly after he dropped “What Do You Mean?” My brain exploded.

Strange times, indeed. As I stared at my gray matter and its guts sliding down the wall, I grinned. Admittedly, it was for personal reasons. I have grown weary of a particular narrative the media oft repeats: that of the young male star. An off-beat, exciting talent announces itself and is subsequently worshipped into hero status. Due to this pronounced new fame and blinding attention, our hero fucks up and falters. Drugs and/or women is usually involved. Depending on the misdeed, he receives lashes disguised as criticism and everyone ensures he learns his lesson. Hero apologizes. Normally it’s not good enough. A perception of damaged goods follows him. Hero must earn back his unsustainable reputation of Good Hero he never asked for. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. The cycle continues regardless…

I’m always glad when these guys make it through. A bit of solidarity, I guess. The Biebs seemed to be doing it on his own terms. He had become himself.

But as the time to promote Purpose approached, a new tone developed from Bieber. A softer one begging for forgiveness. He released “Sorry”, which was mind-blowingly okay. Too much of the same, too pandering, but it was fine. And he revealed his rediscovered spirituality in multiple interviews, sounding like a white hipster chick who watched Food Inc. and announced she was “going vegan” to anyone who’d listen.

It didn’t stop, this appealing to the broadest possible spectrum. That banal “I’ll Show You” video for example. It opens with Bieber traversing a narrow, curvy cliff path (a blatant metaphor for “Life”) and later running idyllically, arms wide open, like a reborn child, through luscious greens and clear skies. The video’s imagery is ripped from all the worst parts of Ben Stiller’s The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. But: Bieber’s wearing streetwear and Yeezy 350s so we know he’s still hip.

Celebrating the album release, Bieber released a ‘visual’ each hour to from “Purpose: The Movement.” The videos showcase a diverse array of kids breaking and intricate dance numbers, notably absent of Bieber for the most part. Very stylish and stimulating—like most of Bieber’s album—but it becomes repetitive. The final video for the “Purpose” track is memorable: It resembles a Mad Max: Fury Road almost-porno parody, but is super seriously a manifestation of creative genius.

I’m sounding down on Bieber and Purpose, I realize. It’s not intentional. The record is great pop music. “Love Yourself” captures that bitter yet hopeful spirit of past love. Fuck yourself but I still love you. I expect “The Feeling” to be remixed approximately 40 million times by DJs at festival next year. It hits that half-thought approaching lucidity kids rolling have—maybe I don’t love you, maybe I just love love and that might…hey, wanna make out?

The production is stellar: those iconic Skrillex chirp synths and those clocking bongos and the stripped-down acoustic stuff and the darker OVO soundscape it dips into. It’s (mostly) incredible.

But the record doesn’t go far enough. Where is the pain? The suffering? The heartbreak? The anger? The disillusioned angst? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Purpose needs more Biebervelli. More asshole, in other words. It needs more killer clown mask and knife-licking. More F-U-ness. Something to provide a seriously lacking depth.

Producer BLOOD, in explaining “Sorry”, sums up the frustration: “the beat is saying moving forward, and apologizing, can be exciting and fun.” That is some 3^rd grade bullshit if I’ve ever heard it. Same goes for a track like “Life Is Worth Living.” The title says it all. I don’t even want to discuss that “Children” record. I’m not up to stoop that low.

I’m most disappointed in myself, really. I forgot something crucial about Bieber: He is, unfortunately, a brand. Those tracks and this rollout campaign dripping with insidious PR intentions aim to establish a reformed Bieber image. It is not about the music or art or even what Bieber wants. The Entertainment Tonight-watching and Us Weekly-reading crowd need to feel like they can root for Bieber again. Certain demographics’ needs must be met.

That stuff I loathe. That type of American media is the mold ruining and stinking up the rest of the game. However, it does seem like Bieber’s operating on two levels now: atoned man in the mainstream and still a bad boy rock star in the underground. They both work. I’m a bigger fan of one over the other. The key to it all: Bieber finally seems self-aware. So maybe he did grow up. But I’d be okay with it if he didn’t.