Of Bars, Booze, and Bartending - Proving "Coughlin's Law" Invalid Since Feb '05

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Hi! I'm Jennifer, and I like a Backstreet Boys song.

I'm so ashamed, that I thought the only way to deal with it was in the form of a 12-step style, permanent Google cache. I deserve to be punished. For eternity.

So, I've heard this song on the radio, and probably in a commercial or American Idol (what's the difference), for a week or two, and as cheesy as it is, the music student in me thought it was a pretty song, a nice song, a tortured love song, not bad for a power ballad. Nice bridge. Good harmonies. Well-orchestrated.

I woke up a little late yesterday, curled up on the couch with the TV still on from the evening before. The Ellen DeGeneres show was on, and I woke up to Kevin and Britney's interview. Ellen struggled to get them to talk, and my first thought of the morning is that Kevin and Britney would make horrible dinner party guests. They literally had nothing to say. Not a word. They were the most uninteresting pair imaginable. Britney hasn't changed much from her star-turn in "Fahrenheit 9/11." And Kevin? Well, he really does look like he smells bad, yo.

After the break, Ellen tells me that the Backstreet Boys will perform. I grab a cup of coffee and start to wonder about these guys, thinking that the older, mustached one must be 40 by now.

From the kitchen, I can hear the aforementioned song that I liked playing on the TV, and I run into the living room to see if I can finally figure out who sings it. Imagine my surprise as I watch these five choads singing it live on Ellen's show.

Apparently, the song I like is called "Incomplete" and it's from the forthcoming Backstreet Boys album. Their first in five years, they remind us.

I wasted a decade making fun of these guys. Who's the choad now? I like a Backstreet Boys song, I've lost all musical taste credibility, and I'm entirely humiliated.

I'm going back to U2, the Beatles and Dave Matthews Band. Immediately. Any and all suggestions will be cheerfully accepted.

Voices tell me I should carry on
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone
Baby, my baby
It’s written on your face
You still wonder if we made a big mistake

Seeing the lyrics in print make me feel all the more worthless and insignificant. Gods of Rock, save me?