Justin Bieber - First Step 2 Forever, My Story
Join the world's hottest pop star on his rollercoaster ride to superstardom!His debut album has already gone platinum. He's sung for the President of the United States. His screaming fans have stormed TV studios and shut down shopping malls. Justin Bieber is a global superstar and now, for the first time ever, he's going to tell all in his very own book.Justin's story is the stuff that every kid dreams of. Growing up an only child in Ontario, Canada, Justin had a natural talent for music; he was forever singing around the house and taught himself to play drums, guitar, piano and trumpet. He entered a local singing competition and despite not having had any vocal coaching, Justin came second aged only 12 years old.But it was when he posted homemade pop videos on YouTube that Justin's dreams really came true: the videos quickly became a word-of-mouth sensation, garnering an astonishing 10 million hits. Months later, Justin was spotted by top music manager Scooter Braun who later joined forces with superstar Usher to sign 13-year-old Justin to Island Def Jam. And the rest, as they say, is history.In his very first book, complete with free wall poster, Justin will tell the story of his amazing journey from small-town schoolboy to global superstar. Stunningly designed and jam packed full of exclusive unseen photos of Justin on and off stage, plus private captured moments, the awesome story of Justin's phenomenal rise to superstardom is a must-have for any true fan.
Читать Justin Bieber - First Step 2 Forever, My Story онлайн беплатно
100% OFFICIAL
JUSTIN BIEBER
First Step 2 Forever: My Story
How can I begin to thank you for making this journey possible? Every one of you is “My Favorite Girl” for a different reason, because each of you is special in your own way. Everywhere I go, whatever I do, I try to connect with as many of you as possible. If you’re up front at a concert, I might reach out and hold your hand. If you show up outside the arena after the show, you might get soaked in one of our epic water fights. You might just be talking to your friends on Twitter saying you have a one-in-a-million chance of reaching me and now I’m following you. My dreams used to be a one-in-a-million chance as well, but as I said in the song, never say never. I never forget that none of this would have happened without you. That’s why I want to share this story with you: so you can experience the journey with me, all the highs and lows, the laughter and the tears. You were there from the beginning. Now, as you see what I saw and feel what I felt, I hope you’ll believe that big dreams really can come true. I’m living mine every day. Thanks to you.
LUV YAH, JUSTIN
HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT
TUESDAY, JUNE 22, 2010 9:45 A.M.
Rolling into the XL Center, I feel like I ought to have skates on my feet.
“Hey!” I elbow my grandpa in the ribs. “Can’t you just smell the hockey?”
He laughs. “Oh, yeah.”
In less than forty hours, the XL Center will be jammed to the rafters with almost twenty thousand screaming fans, but right now the venue is just begging for a Zamboni.
A Zamboni is that huge tank-like thing they drive around to even out the ice during halftime at a hockey game. It melts the top layer, which almost immediately refreezes as smooth as glass. But I can’t believe I have to describe what a Zamboni is. It’s like describing something you’ve known since the day you were born.
“A lot can change in three years... it’s unreal”
Being a Canadian, hockey is our thing. We have it in our blood.
Sometimes they let a celebrity guest a war hero, beauty-pageant winner, local news anchor, or whatever – ride in the Zamboni. And, until three years ago, that was my definition of celebrity: somebody who gets to ride around in the Zamboni. My definition of a rock star was somebody who gets to ride around in a tour bus.
A lot can change in three years.
When I was twelve, my manager, Scott “Scooter” Braun, saw a YouTube video of me performing in a local talent show. When I was fourteen, we joined forces with the recording artist Usher, who was not only one of my heroes but helped introduce me to the world. A few months after my fifteenth birthday, my first single dropped. Now I’m sixteen and about to launch my first tour as a headliner.
IT’S UNREAL.
The My World Tour will hit eighty-five cities in the US and Canada – connecting with almost two million fans – all in less than six months. My backup singers, Legaci, my dancers, band and a huge crew are all on the ride with me. It takes eight buses and a whole fleet of eighteen-wheelers to move all the people and equipment.
WOW!
“The My World Tour will hit eighty-five cities – connecting with almost two million fans – all in less than six months”
I make my way across the bus garage with my grandparents, Bruce and Diane Dale, and Kenny Hamilton, personal security ninja and frequent victim of my Xbox 360 powers of annihilation. My mom, Pattie Mallette, teeters along behind us, rocking skinny jeans and high heels. Mom is a trip and she sacrificed everything for me.
Scooter has already been at the venue for hours, shooting hoops with the roadies and backup dancers between frantic cellphone calls. Scooter’s the mastermind behind the operation and he and the team wrestle all the details into place: media stuff, like interviews and photo requests; logistical stuff, like who’s going where in which bus; and of course crucial life-dependent matters, like making sure I don’t eat any pizza the day of the show (singers aren’t supposed to have dairy before a show, but we all know I’m a rule breaker. Pizza is just so good!). Scooter’s always strategizing – he treats life like chess, always eight moves ahead. The dude’s a beast.
With a quick fist bump “wassup” to Kenny and hugs for me and Mom, he leads us through the backstage catacombs to the arena where the tour riggers are craning in a huge steel-framed hot air balloon basket.
“Nice.” Kenny and I nod our approval.
This thing is designed to fly me out over the crowd during the song “Up,” starting upstage about thirty feet in the air, then floating out over their heads, gliding on waves of energy and noise, dipping not quite low enough for them to touch, but close enough for me to see all those beautiful faces. I really hope my fans are gonna go crazy when they see it. But then the gondola makes a noise like a Chevy grinding through a guardrail. It lurches to a halt. Jerks to the left. Wobbles to the right.
