Judging An Album By Its Cover: Backstreet Boys – This Is Us

They say you should never judge a book by its cover.  Because we respect our elders, we take that antiquated idea to heart.  But notice, it mentions nothing about music.  Therefore, we reserve the right to judge any and every album in the history of recorded music based solely on the images that inhabit that album’s cover.  Today, we pass judgment on This Is Us by The Backstreet Boys.

Luis: Holy shit! These guys are still alive?

Adam: Yeah, they don’t look happy about it though.

Luis: I thought they were exterminated during the great Boy Band Wars of 1999, which pit boy band against boy band in a 12 way battle for manufactured pop garbage supremacy. I was 100% convinced that Justin Timberlake was the only one that walked out of that Thunderdome alive.

Fortey: Generally when you see four guys who look like the Backstreet Boys standing outside an old timey theater marquee at night, it’s because they’re gay male gay prostitutes huddling for warmth while waiting to turn a gay trick.

Adam: “Under the old timey marquee that says This Is Us” seems like an awfully unwieldy location to explain in a Craigslist posting.

Fortey: True.  And the marquee behind would them probably say something like “The Curious Taste of Benjamin’s Bottom.” Chalk it up to artistic license I guess.

Adam: I have a sinking suspicion that this marquee probably said “Live!  Tonight!  Nude Male Review!” before they Photoshopped it.  If we could see the whole picture, we’d see stacks of buy one get one free ticket coupons in their hands.

Luis: I know that whole every-member-of-the-band-looking-away-from-the-camera thing is kind of a staple of shitty album covers, but for some reason I get the impression that they’re trying waaaay too hard not to look at it.  You can see the pain on their faces as they struggle to force their gaze away from the mighty soul stealing picture machine…except the one with the goatee. His soul died years ago.

Adam: Yeah, I think his name is A.J. Mc….

Fortey: Pedobeard.  His name is Pedobeard.  Pedobeard in his tiny hat has no shame left, so he proudly stares back at you, challenging you to give him a $20 and see if he really can work a rim like no other.

Luis: That or the camera caught him in between Morse code blinks. He was probably blinking “Save…me…Save…me…Rape…Me.” Not too many people know that the words “Save” and “Rape” are the Morse code equivalent of the hand written “There” and “Their.” That’s a mistake you only make once. You only make it once because it gets you raped to death by pirates. Speaking of which, that goateed one looks like a pirate — A BUTT PIRATE!! HA-HA! JOKES!!

Adam: Gold, dude.  Fucking gold.  You know, I’m more concerned with the blonde guy.  I think the other three are holding him against his will.

Fortey: That’s Gapers, and I think he’s having an emotional breakdown.  Look at that wistful expression.  The downcast eyes and set jaw.  He’s clenching in fear already.

Adam: Being forced into male prostitution will do that to a washed up boy band member.  Speaking of that, when I first saw this album cover, I got a real male prostitution vibe from it.  I still do, but I think Blondie…

Fortey: Gapers!

Adam: Right, I think Gapers is the only one on the business end of the transactions.  The rest are on the “bidness” end, so to speak.  They’re the money.  And the muscle.  And the sleaze.  Poor Gapers is just human boy band traffic.

Fortey: You’re right.  Look at Greasy there on the left.  He’s already spotted a mark across the street.  And Gapers knows it.

Adam: Word.  Greasy is definitely the sleaze of the operation.  He’s the salesman.  He’s the creepy Israeli guy at the mall who pulls your girlfriend aside to try and sell her some fingernail buffing contraption while his associate offers you some top shelf male accompaniment.

Luis: What kind of fucking malls are you hitting?

Adam: Those kind.

Luis: Got it.

Fortey: On the other hand, Country Style (totally made that nickname up on a whim) on the far right seems to be staring an accusing glance at Gapers.  Is he angry?  Is it a lover’s spat?  Probably pissed that Gapers took his guava flavored lube.  This image makes me assume they all are packing guava flavored lube.

Adam: No, he’s the muscle.  Aaron Carter’s big brother is the muscle.  Everyone has to find their niche in life.  Country Style just happens to have found the one guy he can feasibly intimidate into banging middle aged dudes for cash.  Cash that goes right to Pedobeard.  He’s the money handler.

Fortey: The really sad thing about Pedobeard, other than the Pedobeard, is the fact he appears well and thoroughly strung out.  It’s understandable that being a Backstreet Boy would make you turn to narcotics, but still.  Pay a make up girl to blot out some of the “I haven’t slept in 6 days” shadowing.

Luis: I kind of feel bad for the Backstreet Boys. They obviously know their best days are behind them. It used to be that whatever they wanted, they got it. They wanted backstage access to a concert? They got it. Long line in front of the club? Right this way, Mr. Backstreet Boys! But now – shit, now, judging by that marquee they’re standing in front of, they have to wait in line to get in to the show that they’re performing in. If I knew a simile that allowed you to look at that situation in an entirely different, yet hilarious new light, while simultaneously summing up the vast amounts of Fucked Up inherent within said situation, then I’d say it right now. But I don’t have one. So I won’t.

Fortey: Yeah, the whole thing seems to be an accusation the band is making of itself.  Like they got fed up and had to admit it.  Guys, this is us.  Fuck.

Adam: Fuck indeed.