aturday night, I played the twelve-year old I never was. Caroline was given free tickets to Justin Bieber’s Oakland leg of the Believe Tour, and I took her up on her invitation. This makes a lot of people balk, because why would a twenty-eight-year old voluntarily go to the tween heartthrob’s show when she has no kids to chaperone? It made my friends balk because they know me to be vehemently against all things “pop,” to the point that I will run off the dancefloor at a wedding if the DJ queues up “Call Me Maybe.” (I have and I will.)
So why did I say yes? While I’m not his target demo and gave the Spice Girls the only key to my pop-loving heart some fifteen years ago (Okay, so maybe Robyn gets some pop love from me now, too.), I simply couldn’t pass up a chance to see one of the world’s most renowned contemporary performers. He’s got swag, swerve, and an unparalleled dedication to his fans.
In most recent news, Bieber threw up on stage and still carried on the show. Whether he was drunk or ballooning with milk, you’ve got to give the guy props. Instead of breaking hearts that night, he basically verified his love and devotion to every preteen admirer in the house. They will never forget him, because he never abandoned them.
Earlier this summer, Gabrielle (Made You Famous Co-Founder and Red Magnet Media client) attended his performance at the Apollo. It was an intimate setting in a legendary venue. The power went out, but Bieber continued his set, singing “Boyfriend” a cappella complete with choreography and all.
What a consummate professional. I’m sure there are many adult stars who would have thrown in the towel that night.
So anyway, after scoring some totally rad gear and seating ourselves next to some Google employees – our row clearly had the oldest average age out of any in the arena – we twisted n’ rolled our earplugs to give in to the Biebs.
The verdict? Honestly, it wasn’t my favorite show ever, but I’ve just got to say that the audience almost dominated over the headliner in my overall Justin Bieber experience. At the Justin Bieber show, you just can’t not be happy. All these girls, in their tutus and their glittery Chucks and their homemade puff paint proposals to the Biebs – I don’t see how any reluctant parent, sibling, or even little brother, could not enjoy him or herself. The fans know every word to every song. They know the dance moves. They already got the memo to hold up paper hearts for “[A Song I Don’t Even Know],” and their eyes are aflame with this ridiculously insatiable look of love and adoration. This is likely to be the height of their lives for at least five years, and you can feel the electricity and excitement in your cheeks.
You can also hear it in their shrill, shrill cries for all things Tween and Good. The necessity for earplugs is no joke. They’re all about to explode, and screaming is actually the least messy way for them to expel their energy quickly. Watch this video, but only on the lowest volume setting of your viewing device. I say that with all seriousness:
They should really ban all sugars at Justin Bieber concerts because the adrenaline these kids are on is making them totally high.
And making them hit puberty unnaturally early. You better Belieb it.