I have a reason and “Purpose” to respect Justin Bieber

Wait – a clock ticks quickly somewhere close. Hear that? Piano strums light urban tides beneath, and synthetic strands interweave – ah, Bieber’s first single from “Purpose,” “What Do You Mean.”

What I can answer, Justin, is that I certainly mean to expend for good my indifferent ears over the next many YouTube replays. Although the song seems to ride along a rather quickly bobbing journey upon brisk, paved lyrics, a flute-like interlude, and back-and-forth breeze of a lead-in to the chorus surprise. I am intrigued.

So was a lot of the rest of the world, intrigued, when they heard that an unannounced 13-year-old was signed on by Usher after being discovered on YouTube for his “homemade” videos, starring a strikingly whole-hearted voice that poured itself into the camera as if shyness had never been considered a possibility. Then came the meteoric whoop to fame, and for an initial few years, this talented teenager was just that – pure, talented and childishly blameless, as his swept down hairstyle.

But, “my life is a movie, and everyone’s watching.” The album’s second single, “I’ll Show You,” plays, a cresting wave of tenderly pulsating tune, EDM pixels breaking in multichromes against sand. Although perhaps not the most catchy or popular, I am personally fond of the quick flickering sound of the choral music, and how Bieber’s voice is almost sweet and dulcet as he harmonizes the end.

The lyrics of the song, which feature“sometimes it’s hard to do the right thing, when the pressure’s coming down like lightning,” could not be clearer sung straight into a microphone at a press conference. News flash: Justin Bieber, celebrity delinquent smiling in his 2014 mugshot, admits to his outrageous misbehaviors of the past year. But, he also sings of the fact that he can not solely be blamed for the maligning forces of fame – fame is as isolating and misunderstanding as it is inundated with an audience that is permanently fogging up his limousine window.

After crescendoing to stardom, Bieber was bashed for his “girly” and immature voice, pop music that people branded “not music”, labelled “gay” as some sort of uneducated insult by the  teenaged crowds. In short, he faced the abuse that society, without fail, always releases in vying equilibrium to any sudden upsurge of popularity in pop culture.

But then came a new era, of self-induced blame. Caught under the influence, vandalizing neighbor’s homes with eggs, reckless driving in Beverly Hills, resistance following arrests – heads shook at his literal punches to the paparazzi.

“He’s rich, right? Grammy’s are for music, not for money. He’s making a lot of money. He should be happy, I guess,” said Patrick Carney of the Black Keys after a Twitter feud with the rich pop singer back in 2013.

For a long time, I was an impersonal pedestrian striding the zebra crossings with my own headphones on, but the noise finally infiltrated and I see the shamed commotion: the plain fact is that Justin Bieber, racing on the roads, is the botched duckling of Mother ‘fame’. His transgressions of stardom are no more acquittable than California courts of vandalism have deemed them to be.

Justin Bieber has no excuse for urinating in restaurants’ mop buckets. But perhaps, just perhaps, if the blooming 12-year-old was not prematurely thrust into a world where 1,000 kilowatts judge your every step forwards and backwards while simultaneously expecting you to not to trip over, the young celebrity might have gotten a chance to gradually acquire maturity in his public behavior. We pick this up through years and years; Justin Bieber had the few hours in flight from his Canadian hometown to Hollywood.

His unfledged fame is not just to blame – the unwarranted judgement that Bieber received was unjustified and merciless in his early years. It is highly possible that if a few thousand less heads in the public had not stooped to catcall at him, and instead maybe some actual constructive critics had shown up at the right time to guide him, Justin would not now possess the contrived recklessness to go on sprees of doing whatever suits him (and him only).

People deluge him with baseless assessments – not having a liking for his style of music does not translate to a “lack of talent” on his part. One would only need to stroll the streets of Stratford, Canada, nine years ago to witness a convinced 12-year-old emphatically singing and strumming his guitar on stairs outside without a microphone or a decibel of reservation to restrain a forte that was simply instinctive. Bieber did not just display an uninhibited flair for vocal performance, but also a sweeping musical spectrum that included a talent for playing the guitar, drums, keyboard  and trumpet.

There clearly must be some reason accounting for Justin Bieber’s transit from the sidewalks of Ontario to America’s own White House in presentation for President Barack Obama. And perhaps, it is this – the original gasp of the awed pop audience, now glitching and spilling over the backstreets of garish fame in his faux thug clothes, is talented. It would indeed be a reasonable idea to respect this authentic musical skill that has endured being bent so far back by the same side of the stage that gave it its first applause.

A thrill unfurls and diffuses from the sun, solar flares hummed short by a swelling and deflating drum-like beat. The voice that pulses into the surging lava of synthpop music is ambrosial, luscious and toned perfectly to jolt the background and ensuing electronic genesis. The chorus, sung by indie pop singer Halsey, is irresistibly hazel, soaring over husky timbre. Bieber’s ninth track, and my personal favorite, “The Feeling,” effervesces as an absolute complement of electronic music to his newly matured, contained breath of song.

He was not found and shot to fame because he was caught doing drugs on YouTube or because his voice was an utter vandalism to music. The Justin Bieber that you criticized became who he is seen as now quite in part because of you; it hardly makes sense to sneer at the surviving success you battered.

So pull the CD out, will you? And take it home – I think it is time you find respect, if not liking, for the tracks it will turn.