Justin Bieber's Autobiography: The Lost Introduction

Today Rocks Off got word that pop sensation Justin Bieber was finishing up his first autobiography. The 16-year-old is set to release Justin Bieber: First Step 2 Forever: My Story in October - in print, not tweet by tweet, no less. Following in the footsteps of other poppers like Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears, and the Spice Girls, this book will feature Bieber tracing his career's meteoric rise in his own words.

Rocks Off received a galley copy of the new memoir from a friend who works at Beiber's publishing house in New York City under the strict orders that we not divulge any of the contents, but you know how that goes...

Bieber is also ramping up work on 3D movie about his life. If the leaked introduction he wrote for his autobiography is any indication, which Rocks Off friend says the publisher demanded he rewrite immediately, it sounds like a hellish and thought-provoking affair. After reading it ourselves, we imagine it to be a diabolical cross between Led Zeppelin's The Song Remains the Same and The Monkees' Head.

Read for yourself. You will think twice the next time you hear a young relative cooing the lyrics to any of Bieber's songs.


Was it Tolstoy or was it Bret Michaels who once said "There are no second acts in American lives"? I'm not sure at this point. I'm a shell of the man-child I once was. You're reading this because you have some sort of idea of who you think I am or what I should be, but that's just like trying to tell the wind which way to blow.

Fact of the matter is, I don't even know. I'm a figment of some lost imagined dream. I'm a parable for young America, not a pop star. You call me crazy, but it's you reading this who belongs in the stir. Who's in prison now? Not I.

My androgynous visage is no different than that of David Bowie or Klaus Nomi from days of yore. The constant taunts asking whether or not I am a little lesbian only force everyone in turn to rethink their ideas of sexuality and conformity. Everything from my purple clothing to my side-swept hairstyle is designed to shock the world out of their preconceived notions of gender. I have done my intended job if I have titillated or offended anyone.

I can sing "Baby, baby, baby oh like baby, baby, baby no like baby, baby, baby oh," and you may think it's about heartache on the playground, but it's about deeper things than some childish lovesick fairytale.

At the time I wrote the song, I was really into Dante's Inferno (not the video game) and listening to some vintage Leonard Cohen demos someone at the label ferreted to me. I was trying to convey that being an adolescent in love is like roaming the circles of Hell, but Ludacris scotched that idea quickly.

What I had in my mind was a sort of cross between "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye" and downtuned Yaz, turned into a terribly palatable radio single. It paid the bills, but at my artistic expense.

As for one less "One Less Lonely Girl", that's about our government taking over third-world countries. These "lonely girls" can be seen as the small underdeveloped lands our tyrannical police state pins down.

It's sung from the behind the eyes of our increasingly corporatized government that will say sweet nothings like "I'm gonna put you first, I'll show you what you're worth, if you let me inside your world," to an underdeveloped puppet regime.

The girls I sing of in my songs aren't really of the traditional female variety, the screaming and sweating heathens borne of the Clintonian '90s. The girls could be you, me or anyone in between, from the beaten-down American underclass to the political prisoners all over the world yearning for artistic freedom.

This book will mark the end of this era of Bieberism, as I term it. After my current touring cycle is over, I have booked time in a studio with Brian Eno and members of Lightning Bolt, plus commissioned frequent Bjork collaborator Matthew Barney to make the next round of videos for the songs I am currently writing. Both will be steeped in modern Dadaism, albeit a Dadaism you can dance to.

Yours, J. Bieber.

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