A Dime, A Dozen: Beyonce and Justin Timberlake – Bandstand Breakouts

Round 5 of “A Dime, A Dozen” brings us to a woman of fate and the captain who went solo before his ship sailed out and sunk: Beyonce and Justin Timberlake.

Beyonce and Justin Timberlake: This pair led two of the biggest gold mines of the 2000s before breaking western harder than a Frisco earthquake – but it paid off and thus is why they are indisputable Pop icons of the decade. Destiny’s Child is one of the best selling female groups of all-time (wait imma let you finish <– watch this space). *N Sync, one statistic: 2.4 million albums, 1 week – and Justin still went solo like he had no strings attached. Knowles is like a Diana Ross, and Timberlake like an Elvis who distracts you with an MJ studded glove. These two remained relevant in a decade where their new selves rendered their original selves irrelevant – they were the video that killed their own radio stars.

Beyonce: Beyonce Knowles is a Pop field marshal; we all knew from day the first that destiny’s chosen child was Beyonce. She just lived in a foster home with parents who knew she needed company – no need for the true sibling commitment, that’s Solange’s job. Beyonce ran Destiny’s Child like an army: either file in rank, or get your hand out the piggy bank. My take on Beyonce is metaphorical, which is Pop at its core. It’s a lot of “she’s like this, with a bit of that, and a slight hint of some such.” Even still, it is the mixture of those elements that make an icon – originality is the art of concealing your sources (watch this space). That said, Beyonce is like Colonel Sanders trial and error-ing her way to the perfect secret recipe. She is like Asa Candler – the man behind Coca-Cola – pinpointing a commercial entity and marketing it to unparalleled success as an American staple. She’s like the Clipse “You thought I was a rapper, huh? We’ll I guess that makes me an actor ‘cuz I’d rather clap a gun,” singing to front being a really good marketer and brand. She’s Kelis: bossy; she’s Tyra: mainstream crossover in that Tyra-kinda way; she’s Hattie: making moves, being the first, but being controversial in a top-selling-or-selling-out social impact kind of way; she’s Hillary: the First Lady that will try you; she’s Marilyn: a self-made iconography of female sexuality; she’s Carrie Bradshaw: the low-key person that knows everyone, but no one really knows, yet everyone wants to know; she’s Madonna: universal Pop icon – love/hate/apathetic towards her, it is still understood – for a generation – period; she’s Paul McCartney: fronting a worldwide staple, yet quite disinterested in your personal opinion of said group or individual, and you respect them – within some capacity – for that reason.

Beyonce started off the decade with the 2001 Destiny’s Child release: Survivor. Yes, she wanted to let you know from the jump, that she will indeed be seeing you on the other side of the ten-year hump – though, she can’t make any promises for the other two broads in the video. DC took a three-year hiatus before releasing their final studio album to date, Destiny Fulfilled, in 2004. Yes, she wanted you to know that DC’s destiny is fulfilled – if the bridge is gone when you come back, it’s because I burned it; but don’t get mad, I made you. Furthermore, her personal destiny was fulfilled; Beyonce set herself up for epic things in the future. Should she have faltered in the 90s, she could fall back on the group – teams always share the blame. Now that she perfected the secret Pop recipe for success, she could break out on her own and share the credit with no one but me, myself, and I. 2005 brought a greatest hits album, #1s, to close the casket. Rewind to 2003 though. She went crazy – not crazy crazy, not Britney crazy – but crazy like a fox, and crazy in love. In 2003, she released her first solo album, Dangerously in Love. The way the world fell in love with Beyonce, in negative two seconds, still makes me think she had rock boys lacing her albums – oh wait. Then we celebrated B’Day – marketing: ftw – in 2006. Even when it’s your day, it’s still Bey’s day. What did you want for your birthday in ’06? A cd about someone else’s special day. Then again, that album did begat this:

http://www.youtube.com/v/ISiITAh-J4E&hl=en_US&fs=1&

So, I’ll leave that at that. But wait, there’s more! Two words: Sasha Fierce. I would let you finish, but we don’t really need to start; because even though you met her in 2008 – and put a ring on it within a week – she’s still got you dry cleaning her freakum dress every Monday. She wanted me to remind you that when she calls they better see her on your video screen.

Beyonce is volcanic. She’s a steady constant: calm, grounded, stable, always present. Just as Cotapaxi sits in the middle of the urban metropolis that is Quito, Ecuador, Beyonce is such a strong force within pop culture, but in a way that has everything else adapt while she rests comfortably. Like a volcano though, she is always present, but most visible when she erupts. Powerful, game-changing, earth-shifting, but at the same time when the lava is cooled it sets on the foundation and becomes another layer from which to build – constantly, steadily growing. The heat and intensity of fire, mixed with the stability and permanence of earth, now that’s a dangerous combination.

Justin Timberlake: This one is a tricky one. He has Michael tendencies, but not really. Okay, he can dance. Right, he was the baby of a successful group that broke out to much greater fame alone. Then, there’s the intangibles – namely the fact that he danced with Michael at the VMAs, often donned Michael gear in videos, and just plain liked Mike. That said, J. Timbs is more of an Elvis character; that premise lies in this sentiment: “I tread a troubled track. My odds are stacked, I go back to black.” Justin really likes black music, but place JT against Thicke – pre or post “Robin,” it doesn’t really matter – and it’s apparent who has the true blue-eyed soul. However, Timberlake knew how to profit off of the urban market – and he did so quite well, for what it’s worth.

Timberlake started with the uberboy-band, *N Sync, and – like Beyonce gained her foundation with DC – Justin made a name for himself within the key teeny-bopper demographic in the early 90s. Then the millennium came – but BSB had the title on lock: womp womp – but not to fear *N Sync came out with back-to-back smash albums No Strings Attached, and Celebrity in 2000 and 2001, respectively. His name a signpost in pop culture, Timberlake went solo in 2002 with the critically-acclaimed, and commercially successful Justified. Justin has a knack for hitting and quitting – like a hustler, but less street cred (read: Punk’d). He turned a broken heart into a breakout single, “Cry Me a River,” that left Britney with a broken reputation (and we all saw where that went). His first single was a sign of things to come, as he enlisted on the Clipse to cameo a verse in “Like I Love You.” His right-hand-man is – then uberproducer, now just uber – Timbaland. Justified also featured Bubba Sparxxx, Janet Jackson, and Pharrell. Honestly, this man switched more black hands than a bottle of Lubriderm in February on U Street.

Then, there was the Super Bowl. The only thing that flew off faster than Janet’s top was Justin from the scene. If that man isn’t the Teflon Don, I don’t know who is. He tore the top off, and she gets banned from the Grammy’s … okay. It is interesting though, that Timberlake – who obviously enjoys black music and creative culture, especially of the Jackson persuasion – exposed Janet’s nipple to the largest television viewing crowd in the world. Like Elvis exposed the world to black music, a hidden unknown until he brought it mainstream; Justin literally exposed Janet’s unknown to the world. Regardless of opinion on her music, Janet Jackson is like a Mitochondrial Eve of Pop by relation to Michael alone. However, what Timberlake did was downright gratuitous; not only that, but the Southern gentleman distanced himself from the situation completely. So it is and here we are, but it’s funny how themes like that link. Either way, Justin took the Christina route of years – and years – in between albums. Nonetheless the downtime was worth it and produced the wildly successful and appropriately titled: FutureSex/LoveSounds. What Timbaland did with Timberlake on that album made me marvel at what could’ve been had Aaliyah still been alive… *moment.* Truthfully the album was noteworthy. Again, Timberlake took it to the roots – not his, but the Alex Haley kind – and enlisted on T.I., Danja, Beyonce, Missy Elliott, Hezekiah Walker – for the song “Losing My Way,” yes, that’s the guilt talking – Three 6 Mafia, and Will.I.Am – kinda counts, kinda not – on his sophomore effort. Timberlake knows what sells, and he sells it well.

Justin is like a little Elvis. His music hearkens to an obvious demographic – sonically. Even when he’s not working on his own material he teams up with T.I., Rihanna, and Ciara – but also Reba McEntire (yes, that Reba), and Madonna. He has his fingers in both pies, but it’s fine. He lays in the cut, until it’s time to surface. His name is still well-known, and he doesn’t get caught up in much self-imposed drama. His look is versatile. He is from Memphis, and was in *N Sync, by birth and early life alone he has the Pop and southern demographic locked. He knew that he needed the crucial urban market to be successful. He knew that urban contemporary was where 2000 was headed, and would remain for a decade; and he hustled to make a name for himself. He makes black music that everyone can vibe on, which works. He brings urban artists to the mainstream with killer collaborations, kudos. But there’s a lacking authenticity, he’s not Thicke – period. If this was a true blue eyed soul comparison, Thicke would win hands down. However, this is about Pop and Pop is about commercial sellability – Justin knows what sells, and sells out – tomato/tomahto it’s just money.

Timberlake is the Wonderbread of Pop this decade: a spectacle of something quite plain, but an American staple as such – but dependent on that with which he’s filled.

Beyonce and Justin Timberlake: these two work because they know how to work the system – period.

A Dime, A Dozen: Britney Spears and T.I. – Southern Troubled Phoenix

Round 4 of “A Dime, A Dozen” finds its focus on The South – and the two who proved that it could indeed rise again: Britney Spears and T.I.

Britney Spears and Tip Harris: these two from the belly of the map went from trendy to trendsetting in two tales of pop glory that had many Northern Aggressors fearing a second coup d’etat from below. However, both Spears and Harris tumbled before reigning triumphant. It’s only a loss if you lose the lesson – or weapon.

Straight shooter Lil’ Wayne once said, “This is Southern, face it. If we too simple then y’all don’t get the basics;” if nothing else, these two embodied the two most basic elements of American Pop this decade: “Sex Sells; Crime Pays.”

Britney Spears: This one I’ve followed since, well, since she became as much a part of American culture as apple pie (read: American Pie’s kind of apple pie).

Spears began the millennium with 2000’s Oops… I Did It Again – and further solidified her place as the commercial mouth for corporate America’s message; acting as the shadow of our human nature, and thus self-prophesying the decade that would follow. Like the original Little Red Riding Hood, Spears walked that path of pins and needles that those pop godmothers before her did – and as she obliviously led the way, we couldn’t help but follow – denying it the whole way.

“Oops” is another example of how you can in fact bring the future back. Politically, it foretold what we would be saying in 2004, and repeating over and over again throughout the years between then and now. That mentality was more than a moniker; it was a motto, mindset, mantra, and message that almost perfectly summarized this, the Rolling Stone “Decade of Lost Chances.” We hadn’t been this content with clumsy (read: careless, reckless, negligent, downright apocalyptically audacious) since we allowed Urkel to keep asking “Did I do that?” Yes, you did it and you knew what you were doing, as you were doing it – but, spilled milk, sunken city: we all make mistakes… eight years running.

Just like a mini-machine, Spears kept churning out splendific – artificially sweet in every way, sugar-based-but-not-quite-the-real-thing-who-cares-it-still-tastes-great – pop hits. In a decade that saw a peak of “that” pop, Britney reigned as the ultimate passive pipeline. She was a channel for neo-con veils, and distorted and false ideals in theory and greater impact; even on an immediate level though, she was a channel for the likes of Joseph Kahn, Max Martin, Pharrell Williams and the Neptunes, Wayne Isham, Hype Williams, Madonna, R. Kelly, Diddy, and countless mini-Brits. People used Britney as a footstool to boost themselves up a few inches higher and remain relevant – while letting her forever dwell in the eternal vapid void of the du jour, the moment (in dissimilar fashion to another artist of the decade – watch this space). While it worked for the short term, this inch-by-inch boost was done at her – and our – expense. Beyond her music and career, we all used Britney for a quick pick-me-up-by-knocking-you-down.

Take 2000’s “Oops” performance at the VMAs, and 2001’s “Slave” show: MTV dictated the growth of a superstar, and we were happy to oblige. Then something happened: 2003’s Toxic kiss of death. Britney was at her peak when Madonna took her breath away in more ways than one. Britney had shed her virginal facade – so we thought – and at her peak in 2003, she was in her zone. She was comfortable with herself and in her skin. However, the moment that happens, the comfort zone disappears. Ms. Mainstream Maestro herself, Christina Aguilera, saw her career soar after the VMAs. However, the road got rockier for Ms. Spears. Xtina’s road-tripping partner in crime, Justin Timberlake, propelled his career from footstool Britney by spearheading his debut album with the epic single: “Cry Me a River.” By the end of the decade, Britney cried the Pacific. First, the kiss; then, the River; then, Jason; then K-Fed… then: K-Fed. Spears’ life went from Chaotic to catastrophic to borderline criminal.

We all know what happened between 2005 and 2007, for all intents and purposes: she died – well, Blacked out for sure. Then somehow, she came back to life. Not in a special or miraculous way, but in an I’m-not-dead-but-you’re-blind-if-you-can’t-see-that-I’m-damaged way. As such, MTV obliged and Britney took home her first three (yes, all it takes is 7 years of blood, sweat, chewing gum, Marlboro Lights, and tears – a river of tears, mind you) VMA Moonmen at the 2008 show. She didn’t perform, she didn’t do anything crazy or mind-blowing – but she was there, clear and present, and that was the David/Goliath move of the year in and of itself.

You all – we all – know Britney, this wasn’t even necessary to elaborate on high and low lighted events of her career thus far. Why she remains iconic though, is because she was the pre-eminent sacrificial lamb on the American pop/media altar; at a time when we were all bootmakers to the kings, we had this girl lick ours. She was the not-so-virgin-only-in-an-alternate-universe-where-lies-are-veils-to-deter-reality-or-what-some-call-America given to the gods. We may have a recession now, but there was a time when plenty of paparazzi made a killing off of killing the bubblegum icon that popped. Now though, in this crazy Circus called America, now all eyes are on her again. However, now she is the ringleader – kinda, sorta, in a way.

T.I.: Pretense: OutKast notwithstanding, Tip Harris turned the whole country into his own personal trap this decade; just as he rose to the top of the Bankhead ranks, so Tip did to become the King of the South and the Billboard charts. He took the throne and then the pedestal fell out from under, Harris went from the patriarchy to the Pen.

His discography illustrates – more perfectly than most – the ascent, quick but catastrophic descent, and the slow steady climb back to the top. He did not project a future self or false portrayal onto the pop landscape, he merely recounted his glory tales and let the world know who indeed was the King of the South – no, not Flip.

T.I. began the decade with 2001’s I’m Serious; though he may have been, the sales weren’t, and neither was L.A. Reid (yes, that L.A. Reid – watch this space) who dropped T.I. after the debut flop. So, T.I. did what he did best: grand hustled. What more apropos way for Harris to step onto the music scene independently than with an album entitled: Trap Muzik. That’s exactly what it was, and so broke T.I. onto the mainstream music scene with his first hit single: “24s.” Trap Muzik saw Harris flip the sophomore slump, and spit with the swagger of a brand new college kid. In 2003, we ate those tracks up like crackcakes. Continuing to write his own history, T.I. followed up in 2004 with Urban Legend – the underrated, but quite solid third effort. T.I.’s release titles became his nametag, so it shall be written and so it shall be done. So, it should’ve come as no surprise that 2006’s King solidified his place as rap royalty: what you know about that? Tip knows all about that. As the tale goes though, heavy is the head that wears the crown; and 2007’s T.I. vs. T.I.P. reflected the inner turmoil between the two sides of Harris – the gangsta and the gentleman even further distanced after the death of his best friend and bodyguard Big Phil. That death turned Mr. My Love (watch this space) into Macbeth. The increased paranoia – and guilt – led Tip to hoard an arsenal of weaponry in defense of his own self, and those close to him. Yet, so full of artless jealousy is guilt; it spills itself in fearing to be spilt. The amount of guns T.I. had stocked away for a rainy day, brought a deluge of Feds one fateful October afternoon. Tip was arrested on machine gun charges and sentenced to 366 days in federal prison. Again, writing his own history, Tip released his most recent studio release to date, Paper Trail, before serving his sentence.

Harris is a changed man though, and like a grown man he blames no one but himself. We went on that entire journey with him, in real time – but more importantly, in real life. When he gets out, we will no doubt continue along with him where we both left.

Tip is a martyr, as is Britney. They are on this list because they ripped the veils off assumed celebrity this decade – assumed celebrity detachment from real problems, and real consequences. These two from below the Mason-Dixon gave us the living breathing novel of how one can propel to prominence higher than the Georgia Pine, only to fall back down to the belly of the map – and beast – and claw their way back with a Sherman-like fervor; but also a sapience, over shock value. Sex eventually sells out, and crime’s paychecks bounce at some point. Brit and Tip were our reminder that you can always bounce back and become a better version of yourself – no matter how burned. As Sunday Palms are sacrificed to the fire for Ash Wednesday, so these two were sacrificed to show that, even after Hell on Earth, your purpose remains – even if your shell doesn’t.

South: risen again.