A lil’ late here but….

“I’m so LOW-ooh-oh-ooh-oh, Lo-ooh-oh-ooh-oh, Lo-ooh-oh-ooh-oh, Loonneellyy.”

It’s just a little tough to believe you’re so sad and lo-oh-oh-lonely, Justin. 

You’d think with the constant social media exposure and seemingly direct access to our favorite celebs, we would know when it might be right to respectfully call bullshit. I’m not doing it here. I don’t really know shit about Justin Bieber. We all went through COVID in one way or another, at least for a minute. 

The great equalizer.

He wrote the song with Benny Blanco and Billie Eilish’s brother Finneas—two other big names in music, so he wasn’t alone in the process of making the song. He’s married and I’m pretty sure he’s got a dog, but that’s not nearly enough people to occupy an excessive mansion. Or maybe he really, truly was super lonely for like, a day or two.

The City Root is not about patronization. For all we know, Hailey could’ve slept at Kendall’s for a couple nights, and he was really missin’ ‘er big time. Sad boy vibes. Or maybe he didn’t even write a word of the song but was still able to convey the message and connect with millions of people in the midst of a pandemic.

There’s truth in fiction. Not every song has to be from the heart to connect with people.

But again, maybe the Biebs really was lonely.

On Another Note

We like to romanticize loneliness.

Bukowski. Salinger. Taxi Driver, Into the Wild, Lost in Translation, Manchester By The Sea, Joker. Kid Cudi, That White Snake song and countless others.

The starving, self-harming, destructive artist. The talented drunk. The lonely stoner.

They’re edgy, cool, rough, in pain… and we look fondly upon them for it, seeing ourselves in all their pain and glory. That suffering is only glorified because it’s on the television or the radio, which has been relocated to our laptop and phone screens. None of it is really looked fondly upon in real life though. People don’t look at a drunk by themselves in a bar at 1pm on Tuesday and wish they could trade places.

Artists working their way through intoxicated solitude.  Salt of the earth folk, right? 

Nope. 

They’re dreamers with a chip on their shoulders. Maybe they mined coal, but their dreams are likely bigger than physical diamonds. Mentally they were elsewhere. It’s a weight on the shoulders that can’t be shaken. They like the weight, the obstacle to overcome, and to have an excuse if it doesn’t work out. It’s a part of a story they’re building. Part ambition, part narcissism. 

Life’s hard but I made it. 

Or maybe they’re actually sad and lonely… I don’t know them.

More importantly, who am I to judge?

Hit up your homies that you don’t hear from, folks.

On and up.