Through a varsity of measures and precautions I have diligently avoided Bieber Fever for the past few years.
Unless his music was playing somewhere in the background or I skipped past it on the radio after a few seconds, I have never actively listened to a single one of his songs.
But fate wasn’t playing fairly with me today. As I arrived at the observation deck of the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill (ready to shoot some beautiful pictures of Ottawa for my blog) I got the message from my father I’d been dreading.
I’d asked earlier, just in case, if I’d gone up there with them as a kid. And yep, they did. And that breaks the rules of this little endeavor so I had to think of something quick.
With a four hour drive ahead of me I was desperate, and wouldn’t you know it but rdio had a little Justin Bieber available to listen to. Confined, alone in the car, I figured I could force myself get through an entire album.
“My World 2.0” isn’t the worst album ever made and young Mr. Bieber (or Justin Beaver as my daughter calls him…and insists is actually a girl) is a talented vocalist.
But the entire experience just had me picturing a Mini Pops album that was taking itself way to seriously. And boy does that kid have a hard on for hugging, holding hands and buying things for his girl.
Yeah. This was a weird one.