Note: Some may find this post negative. Some may totally understand what I mean. Some will call me spoiled. This post is about how I’m feeling right now. I’ve always been open about my feelings, whether people like them or not. I’ve been told by others they appreciate my opinions, so I decided to put this out in the open and hopefully I’m not alone.
To be honest, I’m scared to post this. But here goes.
————————
Music has always been my happiness.
As a kid, it was New Edition and New Kids on the Block. As a teenager, it was Reba McEntire and Garth Brooks.
Then came the Backstreet Boys — and everything changed.
When I saw them at Grad Nite and Nick Carter asked if he was sexual (and yes, I said yes), I found something that became part of who I am. That night, I didn’t just find a favorite group. I found a lifelong connection.
Through my hardest days, especially during my deepest depression, the Backstreet Boys were my constant. The music, the fan fiction, the tours, the friends I made along the way — it all gave me purpose. There was never a place I felt happier than at one of their concerts.
But this past week, something shifted. I realized that maybe that’s not my happy place anymore.
I saw the Jonas Brothers three times — in Atlanta with Julia, then in Charlotte and Columbia with Julie (and Mara in Columbia) on our “JoBroHo” trip. Somewhere between the laughter, the setlists, and the lights, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: pure, unfiltered joy.
I’ve been a Jonas Brothers fan since around 2008, but until 2019, I’d never seen them live. I’d never met them, never shared a moment or exchanged words. But this time, something clicked. I straight up fangirled at these shows. Screaming. Arms flailing. At the shows I just went to, Joe Jonas saw my signs, liked them, and mouthed words to me from the stage — and I mouthed a reply back. It was quick, but it made me feel seen.
Not to say that I don’t feel seen at Backstreet Boys shows because that’s not the case at all. I’m spoiled, I know. I’ve been insanely spoiled and I will be the first to admit it.
But that interaction with Joe, that level of excitement, reminded me what it’s like to feel everything again. I haven’t felt like that at a Backstreet Boys event in a very long time. After the Atlanta show, I was so emotionally spent that I slept for 14 hours straight. That’s how much joy and energy it took out of me.
And it made me realize something difficult to admit — I don’t feel that way at Backstreet Boys shows anymore.
And when I say it’s difficult for me to admit, I cried about it. I hate feeling this way.
I still love them deeply. I always will. Forever. But after years of seeing similar setlists and recycled formats, it’s lost some of that magic. The DNA Tour stretched from 2019 to 2024. We haven’t had a true new album since 2019 (besides the Christmas album and I’m not a holiday person). The “Millennium 2.0” show at The Sphere is visually stunning, but it’s still a celebration of a 26-year-old album. Plus, a rerelease of a Christmas album that we already had the extra songs if we bought the Target version back in 2022.
Maybe that’s why the Jonas Brothers shows got me in my feels.
At the first Sphere show, there was a spark of surprise, but AJ had already basically teased that “Siberia” would be on the setlist. But beyond that, there wasn’t much new besides the graphics, which were amazing. The set list though, even though it was supposed to be based on the “Into the Millennium” tour, had nothing new past 2005, besides “Hey,” the new song from “Millennium 2.0.” It was a song that was recorded for “DNA,” but didn’t make it.
The Jonas Brothers get it right. They know fans love nostalgia, but they also give us something new. They play the classics, then mix in songs from their recent albums. They change up the setlist. They take fan requests. Every show feels unique, and that keeps fans guessing. It keeps them engaged.
That’s what I want again from the Backstreet Boys — that feeling of anticipation, of walking into a concert not knowing what’s coming next. That heart-racing thrill when the lights go down and anything could happen. The not knowing if they are going to play a song for the first time again.
Nick Carter did that during his solo tour. Nobody knew what the setlist would be. He kept it quiet until the show started. It felt spontaneous, fresh, and fun — the way it should feel when your favorite artist takes the stage.
I don’t say this to criticize. I say it because I care. I’ve been spoiled with incredible experiences thanks to the Backstreet Boys — moments I could have never imagined as that teenager at Grad Nite. I’ve met friends who’ve become family. I’ve built parts of my life around the music, the fandom, and the memories. Loving the Backstreet Boys is like breathing. Buying tickets and merch is like breathing, it’s just a necessity.
I say all of this, but I’m still going back for their Vegas shows in December. All of them. Because that’s what I do. Like I said, it’s like breathing, eating, sleeping, etc. It’s a part of who I am.
But I want that rush back. I want to feel what I felt at the Jonas Brothers shows — that same adrenaline, the goosebumps, the tears, the laughter, the exhaustion that only comes from pure happiness.
I don’t want the Backstreet Boys to become another nostalgia act that only looks backward (IYKYK). Nostalgia is comforting, but growth is exciting. We need new music. We need something fresh. They are artists after all. It’s in their blood. We need something that reminds fans why we fell in love with them — not just for who they were, but for who they still can be.
Because for me, music has always been my happiness. Concerts are my happy place.
And I’m ready to feel that happiness with the Backstreet Boys again. Maybe I’ll have it in December.