That Matters

Just finished watching Justin Bieber’s That Matters and I can’t tell if I’m watching a music video or a checklist. Shirtless guy, hand in his crotch, stars and sky and you’re the only thing that matters. It’s so completely built from clichés that I started wondering if maybe it’s supposed to be funny and I’m missing something.

The song is for fourteen-year-olds discovering sex. Kids fumbling with each other, no idea what good music sounds like when there’s actual desire involved. And the video hits every single beat—the topless model, the gold chains, the light bulbs, nothing resembling an actual idea. It’s designed not to challenge anyone, not to make anyone uncomfortable, not to make anyone think about anything.

And it works. His audience gets exactly what they want, and they want exactly this. But watching him make the same video again, repeat the same sexuality, recycle the same empty gestures—it starts to feel less like a creative choice and more like he’s just going through it. The market doesn’t demand anything more. The music stopped being music a while back and now it’s just something playing in the background while you do something else.

Keep breathing, Justin.