He goes by the name of Justin, and wow, he is back and brought Sexy with him. Sure, Justin was out of the lime light for a while, leaving “Mrs. Timberlake” t-shirts passÇ and our radios void of white dance music, but did Sexy go anywhere? This week Caryle and Brian will tackle the hard question … Is Sexy Back?

Carlye: Hell no

Oh, JT. Maybe you’re bringing sexy back for your own self – I mean, for God’s sake, anything you wear, say, or do is a significant improvement on your ‘NSYNC peroxide blond Corey Matthews-esque curls – but in general? You don’t have that great of an impact. Sexy is nowhere near coming back. Allow me to explain.

If you are a girl, or if you are a boy who has been outside your apartment over the past week, odds are you’ve seen this, well, shocking new fashion trend. Oh, which one, you ask? Gigantic chain necklaces with locks and keys on them? No, not that one. Pirate stripes that make every girl look like a convict? Nope. I’m not even going to rag on that one either. Ready for it? Leggings. Yes, frickin’ LEGGINGS. I … I don’t even know where to start. They’re skin-tight, hideously unflattering, and exactly what I wore to Ms. Kramer’s second grade class every single day. But, for some reason out of my control, I self-admittingly and embarrassingly love them. As I sit here, typing in a new pair of heather-gray ones, I’m forced to say sexy is nowhere near back. Maybe a few months down the road when we shake our heads yet again at another fugly clothing mistake, it’ll be back. But for now? As long as these are in, sexy is out. Sorry, Justin.

Brian: Hell yes

Except maybe being naked, music is tied to sex more than anything. Since the primordial sands of time began to shift, the two have been connected. Music fuels emotions and emotions fuel sex. Sex affects our emotions which then create music. Guitars are strummed and snares are drummed because of:

a) not getting any

b) getting it good and plenty

c) as a means of social protest (which is

needed because of sexually repressed

nerds in powerful positions taking out

their frustration via unjust policies)

It’s a direct relation that’s hard to ignore: as long as there is music, there will be sex. Thus, sexy will reign. Miles Davis made love to his trumpet by creating sonic intercourse with our ears. Mick Jaeger screamed, “You’d make a dead man cum,” to the woman that started him up. Most recently, Nelly Furtado made listeners dizzy with her musical promiscuity.

In short, screw you, Justin Timberlake! Whether it’s JT’s grimy beats, Leslie Feist’s love songs or Christopher Cross’ near mediocre ballads, any song is capable of putting the fire in us. Sexy was never gone and it can never go away … unless Switchfoot has another album. That’ll keep me from being aroused ever again.

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