Favorite Fossils takes a look at our favorite albums from formative years. Albums that we once obsessed over, which may be the source of endless embarrassment. Or maybe there’s some validity as to why we loved them so.
I stood in front of my TV, the volume turned up unnecessarily loud and the absurd teenybopper world of TRL flowing from the screen. The opening notes played and I was dancing.
The year was 2000 and despite being in third grade, I was already planning my wedding to Justin Timberlake. Nothing — not even that bleach blonde semi-afro — would stop me. I was under *NSYNC’s spell, lured by the 16 songs that comprised No Strings Attached. At the time it was the greatest CD the world had ever seen, according to me.
There was not a single song on the album that I didn’t love. I belted out every word — much to my parents’ chagrin — and was never without that maroon and yellow striped disc. I read the CD booklet like it was fine literature and fell asleep each night with the band’s five members next to my bed — on a poster.
My *NSYNC obsession began when the Backstreet Boys started getting married and having kids. Something about dads calling themselves “boys” didn’t sit right. *NSYNC’s members were better dancers anyway, and, in the world of pop music, that’s the more important quality.
After listening to the group’s self-titled debut CD, we knew *NSYNC was special. But if the first album was great, No Strings Attached was pure gold. Or, in the music world, multiplatinum. The CD shot to number one so fast that my dad barely had time to buy earplugs before the singles clogged every Top 40 radio station’s playlist. There was no escaping *NSYNC mania.
Early 2000 marked America’s descent into a “Bye Bye Bye”-induced hysteria. Everyone knew the song’s lyrics and those who said they didn’t were lying. I fist-pumped around my living room shamelessly, and my situation was not unique. No Strings Attached was a must in every CD collection and therefore did not budge from the top spot of the Billboard charts for eight weeks. When the frenzy finally settled, 11.1 million copies had flown off shelves around the world.
A full nine years after entering my world, No Strings Attached made its glorious return to my car’s CD player. As the first chords of “Just Got Paid” streamed through the stereo I felt a rush of fifth-grade giddiness. I sang along with the guys, quietly at first, then getting increasingly louder until by the end of the song I was out of breath. I drove aimlessly for the album’s duration, impressed that I could still remember every lyric.
When I listened to my former favorite album years later, I could understand why I bought into the boy band craze; catchy beats and lyrics that were innocent enough to garner my parents’ approval were *NSYNC’s strategic combination. Ever since my No Strings Attached days, I haven’t loved any one CD with quite the same passion.
Now when I listen to “Bye Bye Bye,” it’s usually out of nostalgia in the company of friends who share the same fanatic past. Giving my copy of No Strings Attached a spin from time to time is a fun way to reminisce, but I’ve fallen out of love with it. Synthesized music and lyrics of young love still pervade pop culture, and if *NSYNC’s success had held off until now, they would probably still be superstars. But my former favorite album doesn’t affect me the way it used to in elementary school.
Over the past decade my taste in music has evolved, which is why I am not scrambling to buy tickets to see Justin Bieber. I’ll leave that job for the next generation of teenyboppers, who will one day look back on their pop music obsession with fond memories and a promise never to return there again.