A Necessary Evil
(Why Indie Scenesters Everywhere Should be Mourning the Loss of The Boy Band)

Kevin Barnes: “We gather here in a cluster of articulate sorrow, to discuss the tragic and untimely passing of all things Boy Band. As we draw near to each other in this time of fierce tragedy, we will try to drag hope from the ashes of this once proud tradition…”
Jenny Lewis: “(Wail.)”
Sufjan Stevens: “Jenny, don’t worry your Redhead. You can come to California with Rafter and me.”

An unlikely sight, yes? To tell you the truth, a few hours ago I would have been firmly in your camp, appalled at the non-ironic association of Justin with our Above Reproach heritage. But I was flipping through the channels during my morning routine (television, bowl of cinnamon Life, no pants) when I came upon this horrifying sequence: Target stealing The Magnetic Fields, an ad for the OC playlist, and an Outback commercial blaring an Of Montreal melody. I was immediately indignant, saying “how can this be?” out loud to an empty apartment, but the walls gave no answer, so I continued in my pondering, and came to a startling conclusion. We need the Boy Band.
The Boy Band is our lifeblood. We need adolescents listening to them as they grow up. We need fawning teen girls and young teen boys who like them but mock it mercilessly because they fear they might be gay. We need their vanilla melodies and family friendly lyrics in commercials, in our dramatic Teen Soaps.
I’m tired of going to a party and seeing some bleach blonde girl with a ripped short jean skirt and an Abercrombie tank top on telling everyone she can find about how much she loves Neutral Milk Hotel in between getting felt up in her parents bedroom. Thirteen year old girls can not be telling each other “Luv iS WaTchIn SuM1 DiE”, or buying all the tickets to an 18+ or 21+ show and then realizing they can’t get in when their parents drop them off in their Suburban. I’m ashamed to wear my Wilco shirt out of the fear that a thousand tweens will chase me extolling the virtues of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot over A Ghost Is Born. I am already convinced that I have great taste, I do not need the top 100 charts to resemble my Ipod Playlist. I need my music to be Indie, so I can say how great it is without anyone being able to hear it on the radio, or buy the album at the checkout counter of Wal-Mart. Please the obscurity is what I need. It helps me define what is good. Indie music, Indie Film, Indie Clothes. Don’t take that away from me. Justin, please, I’m begging you, on behalf of all Hipsterdom, re-gather you’re friends, dance to the same beats and slightly different lyrics about loving/missing/hating you’re (ex) girlfriend. The World needs you. Don’t let us down.