Pop Stars

Your Horoscope According to Your Birth Year's #1 Single: 2002

You never made it as a wise man, and you certainly couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing.

by Issy Beech
31 May 2017, 8:30am

This article originally appeared on Noisey Australia

That's right. This column still hasn't been cut. Incredible, isn't it? Yes, yes it is. Least of all because as we go on – the more I write these Pop Stars astrological findings – the more I begin to believe them. The less of a crock they begin to feel. Strange, isn't it? How that can happen? You do something for long enough with tongue in cheek and all of a sudden its your livelihood –like saying like, I don't know, "swish swish, bish" as a joke initially perhaps but slowly and very certainly having it become part of your daily vocabulary. Unfortunate and yet seemingly unavoidable. And so I basically now believe I am a savant. A psychic. An astrologer of the shortest order.

Here we are at the third instalment of the series. I was stuck this week, wondering: Should I go old as fuck and write about Cole Porter or some shit? Or do I come right forward, and analyse you "millennials" that all the ad agencies seem to be just loving these days? Those of you born literally and bizarrely after the turn of the century so that while you can say you practically dabbed out of the womb taking a fucking Snapchat you are unfortunately unable to say you and your life traversed not just centuries but millennia. And I can. Which is why I – despite my aging skin and my many time-related diseases – am better than you.

But I'm still going to write for you. Because new age psychic me forsees a terrible number of pageviews from the 79 - 99-year-old bracket.

And so, 2002. Quite a year. I can't really be arsed looking up what happened but probably nothing seeing as everyone was, I imagine, still relaxing from the very confusing and somewhat disappointing false alarm that was a computer bug that fucked up electronic calendars but which largely had the world believing we were doomed to not exist past 2000.

But thank God we did. Because the year 2002 did bring us something of worth and cultural capital: Nickelback's breakout single "How You Remind Me" – not to be confused with Usher's "U Remind Me." Similar, but not the exact same. And so, if you were born in 2002, "How You Remind Me" is your Pop Star. What does it say about you? Literally only I know. Here we go.

Those of you born under "How You Remind Me" have one defining characteristic. Kind of like how all Gemini are hideously two-faced and all Scorpio's are sexual bullies. And that is that it is just not like you guys to say sorry. It's just not. It's not like you! That's not to say that you won't say sorry. Sometimes you will. But when you do? Don't be surprised if someone says: "Wow. It is not like you to say sorry." Because they probably will. So there's that.


You're not exactly a social butterfly. People often don't get you. You've got a close circle of friends that are there for you no matter what; who see you for who you truly are, and don't let appearances get in the way. And that's your saving grace. Nickelback may be the most universally trashed band of all time, but Neilsen numbers showed that "How You Remind Me" was the most frequently played song on the radio for the whole decade of the 2000s.


Look if the Nickelback catalogue is anything to go by, you're not the lucky in love type. Hardly ever does Chad Kroeger – despite singing about a broad range of topics, some obviously meant to be uplifting – sound anything other than absolutely fucking dejected. It's something in his voice. Something very painful. Chaddleback (as my high school friends and I used to call him), is a tortured soul. And so are you.


You're focused and hard working when it comes to the old 9 to 5. That's just who you are. You're a reliable go-getter. And people love that. In general. You know? You're not the type who would just, you know, join a band in the late 1990s and, what, just because fifteen-odd years later almost every critical voice in music agrees that you're a proverbial stain on the contributions of mankind to our collective history, you're gonna what, quit? Stop making music? Stop touring? Try your hand at something people don't categorically and consistently ridicule you for? I don't fucking think so. That's not you, man! That's just not you.

One last thing? Your favourite food is noodles:

Read more in the Pop Stars series here.

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