Just yesterday I found out that the music editor at the Seattle Weekly was leaving after being in position for only a few months. I really thought he did a good job in that situation and liked the direction the paper was headed. I responded the best way I know how, with a snarky comment on Twitter, linking to two old articles written by his predecessor, one of which was a story ostensibly about The Misfits that spent over 300 words in autobiography before moving onto the subject. The other was an article about Justin Timberlake that wrestled with why the author liked his FutureSex/LoveSound album. He wrote:

I was aware of critics using Timberlake as the line in the sand between what is “real” and “false” in pop music. But Timberlake’s legitimacy wasn’t what was troubling me. What nagged me was the critical question: Why the hell do I like this? This was a goddamn dance record, and I hate dancing. Am I gay?

Of course, I thought that it was hardly appropriate for a music editor of a newspaper to be openly hostile to dance or pop and whether or not liking Justin Timberlake made one gay is an issue that should be dealt with between the author, his spouse (the fourth and fifth words of the piece are “my wife”) and a therapist and not wondered aloud in an article intelligent adults might read. His grappling with the expectations of what other critics desire is hardly assuring anyway.

The idea that listening to pop music in general and Justin Timberlake in particular will affect your sexuality is ridiculous, obviously; it’s akin to the argument conservative Christians were passing that you could turn gay by watching heterosexual pornography.

The first single from FutureSex/LoveSound is “SexyBack”, which is overflowing with testosterone. It’s got a pulsing, Timbaland-produced beat and jerky synth lines underneath of Timberlake bragging to other men about how he’s going to score with women (“I’m bringing sexy back, you motherfuckers watch how I attack”.) This song is pure alpha male hormones. If this is a song is a threat to one’s sexuality, it’s either not as strong as you’d hope, or really a threat to your ego.

It really just boils down to this: if you’re a straight man and you want to listen to Justin Timberlake, you’re (probably) still straight; if you’re a straight man and you want to fuck him, well, that’s a different question.