JC Chasez: The Self-Giamatti
The prominence of the “It’s Gonna Be May” meme speaks a lot to Justin Timberlake’s role in *NSYNC. He had the perfect voice for for creating iconic pop moments: idiosyncratic enough to be instantly recognizable, yet flexible enough to fit whatever style was demanded of him. It’s no wonder he became the boy band’s most exciting presence.
Yet, listen to any version of “This I Promise You”, their Richard Marx-penned ballad off of No Strings Attached, and you would swear Timberlake’s main role in the group was to set up JC Chasez. Take, for example, their 2001 Latin Grammy’s performance of “Yo Te Voy Amar” (Spanish versions were the turn-of-the-century equivalent of DaBaby remixes). In its opening moments, Justin’s 20-year-old falsetto is perfectly placed, lulling the audience - some of whom I’d imagine were wondering what these gringos were doing on their stage - into a dream state. He’s laying a trap. Then, at the end of the first chorus, a cymbal crashes, and JC wakes everybody up. Chasez, the group’s über-talented if somewhat non-charismatic vocalist, sings in a way that swells and ebbs perfectly with the contour of his opening line. The focus of the audience’s excitement instantly shifts: from the thrill of seeing an internationally-famous boy band, to the thrill of listening to someone sound that good. They’re caught. Chasez then smiles knowingly in a way that, during a time in the group’s career when Timberlake began distinguishing himself from the rest of the pack, seems to say “This. This I can do.”
In a different live version of “This I Promise You” I saw (man, I need a job), the top comment reads “JC has the best voice. JT has the best manager.” If you pay enough attention to JC’s performances in *NSYNC, it’s hard not to buy into this theory. How did someone who sang like that, danced like that, and looked like that not go on to be a mega-star? Surely, this merits a Paul Giamatti-led biopic where a shady music exec pulls the rug out from under JC.
But the truth runs counter to what everyone postulates in the many JC Chasez fan pages I’ve been perusing (seriously, if anyone knows of a job opportunity: ben@theskipbutton.com). What feels like a sinister conspiracy is actually a tale as old as time: an exciting young talent realizes they don’t have the vision or drive to maintain a full career, and slowly fades out.
That sounds like a dig, but it’s not. In fact, it’s the only solace I take listening to Schizophrenic, JC’s deeply frustrating 2004 solo album. The title is an almost apologetic reference to the hodgepodge of musical styles the project shuffles through. On the opening track, “Some Girls (Dance With Women)”, JC attempts a staccatoed whisper as he slinks his way through what sounds like a bootleg Neptunes track about attention-starved women. This. This he can’t do. In fact, the whole project is a hectic tour of mid-aughts trends JC couldn’t quite pull off.
As I trudged my way through these 16 tracks, all I was looking for was one “This I Promise You” moment. Better yet, give me something like JC’s transition to the last chorus of “That’s When I’ll Stop Loving You”, anything I could point to as evidence that Chasez was one of the best pop singers of his era. The semi-funky “She Got Me” and slow-burning “Dear Goodbye” are the closest the album gets, and they don’t get very close. Plus, in order to get from that first song to the latter, one has to make it through the relentless, six minute-long track, “All Day Long I Dream About Sex”, a God-awful eurodance record that isn’t worthy of the phrase “tongue-in-cheek”.
In the comment sections of these songs, fans seem to want to angrily blame anybody but JC: Jive Records, Justin Timberlake, Paul Giamatti. Some third-party figure must have forced him to make this total mess of an album and deprived him of the long solo career he so clearly deserved. The bad news is, with JC’s name all over the album credits, there’s not much evidence of that. It’s hard to come to terms with, but it seems as though this was what JC wanted the album to sound like.
Here’s why I take solace in that: From what I can gather, JC seemed to regard the spotlight as a necessary burden that came with his level of talent, and that was even when he was splitting it amongst four other people. Schizophrenic offered him a chance to escape. I’m not saying he purposefully made a bad album as a form of self-sabotage. Perhaps when it came to venturing out on his own, he simply preferred having a good time to having a long time. He got in, made what he wanted to make, and got out before anyone could continue bothering him. That’s a much nicer image than someone who got Giamatti’ed.
So JC fans, don’t get angry. Your idol ruled the world for over four years, went on to collaborate with some legendary artists, had a great stint as a judge on America’s Best Dance Crew, and even played a self-effacing role in a warmly-received film. Now, he’s enjoying the anonymity most people get to experience as a young adult.
JC Chasez wasn’t short-changed, he just made a bad album. And that’s ok! After all, some people make bad albums at a much less forgiving age:
