Cat Fancies: Boy bands back, all right

Related Posts

I have a deep, dark secret to reveal to you all — I was “Burnin’ Up” for The Jonas Brothers, baby. Yes, I had a 5.8th-life crisis at age 17 and became an avid fan of the bros in a desperate attempt to relive the good old days of pop music.

I mean, you would never be able to tell this based on my appearance, what with my supes-alternative lip ring, assortment of ugly sweaters and all-around subversive aesthetic. I look like someone who has perpetually crawled out of bed with sex hair and blasted Joy Division as part of my mid-afternoon waking ritual, which is not far from the truth. And yet, my contrarian ways were subject to the popularity of these young gents. Instead of listening to Purity Ring, I was listening to their purity-ring-plucked songs, honey.

Let me give you a little backstory: I was all about dat dirty pop back in the late ‘90s. Amongst the livid rivalry between the fandoms of N’SYNC and BSB (Backstreet Boys, duh), I was a go-between. Because two sets of hunks are better than one, ya know? I listened to their discographies nonstop on my cassette player and relished when their music videos played on MTV, so I could learn their dance numbers. They remain highlights of my childhood, and I want to go to there.

For years after their decline, I never thought I’d find another group that would deserve their musical mantle. Then one day, I saw Joe Jonas looking deeply into Demi Lovato’s eyes when “Camp Rock” played on the Disney Channel, and I knew my wait was over.

And so, finding that my “Lovebug”s were similarly-aged, vaguely-rock adaptations of previous beloved musical man groups, I went buck wild (not affiliated with the contestant from “Flavor of Love”). This wildness manifested in my frequent splurging on their merchandise, including but not limited to: a Joe doll, a “Camp Rock” pillow with sequins on the back and a “Camp Rock” butterfly chair. I attended their concert in Las Vegas with my mama — where I accidentally knocked over the probably-8-year-old boy next to me with my enthusiasm and dance moves. As you can gather, my fangirling got a little out of control.

But, as with most over-exposed, Disney-manufactured artists, my honeymoon period with the Jo Bros (I can call them that because I was down with the times) inevitably ended within a few months. Don’t worry, we didn’t actually get married — I’m too single for that to happen. I didn’t truly love the Jo Bros for who they really were — I just bought into being comforted from the idea of aging. Subsequently, the bros’ career went “Bye Bye Bye.” The band hasn’t released anything worth acclaim since 2010 — and a lull in the hyped-up boy band world means certain death.

So, I know you’re all ashamed of me now because you had this conception of me having good taste and stuff. But whatever! Okay? I’m still that cool Cat who writes colloquially-but-not-confessionally. And with the Jo Bros, I’m putting my boy band past behind me. The Jonas Brothers are not equivalent to the Backstreet Boys because I’m not that same youngin’ anymore. Now, my lost love for them ain’t nothing but a heartache, but I want it that way. I mean, I’ll definitely break out my dance moves when my boys from the backstreet play at frat parties. But I won’t go chasing the next big thing.

I’ll tell you why: I just feel that it’s important to move on and become a slightly less embarrassing person. And I haven’t fallen victim to the most recent crazes of the Biebs (Justin Bieber, duh) or One Direction, so there. But there’s no doubt the boy band cycle will continue beyond the “Year 3000,” informing the lives of posterity to come.

Contact Caitlin at [email protected]