If you were anywhere near a radio or a computer in 2010, you remember the hair. You remember the purple hoodies. But mostly, you remember the absolute chokehold that That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber had on an entire generation of teenagers who were going through their very first "situationship" before that word even existed.
It's a weirdly heavy song for a kid who wasn't even old enough to drive a car when he recorded it.
Most pop stars start with "I love you" or "I want you." Justin went straight for the jugular with a song about watching your ex move on with someone else in real-time. It wasn't just a track on the My World 2.0 album; it became a cultural shorthand for that specific, stinging jealousy you feel when you see a photo of your crush with someone else.
The Acoustic Soul of a Teen Idol
People forget that That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber wasn't a high-energy dance track like "Baby" or "Somebody to Love." It was a mid-tempo, guitar-driven ballad that leaned surprisingly hard into R&B influences. Bieber was heavily inspired by Usher and Chris Brown at the time, and you can hear it in the vocal runs.
The song was written by Nasri Atweh, Adam Messinger, and Luke Boyd (better known as the artist SHY Carter). Atweh, who later formed the band Magic!, has spoken about how they wanted to capture a more mature sentiment than "One Less Lonely Girl." They wanted something that felt a bit more "street" but remained accessible to the suburban kids buying posters at Scholastic book fairs.
It worked.
The production is sparse. It starts with a simple acoustic guitar riff. Then the beat kicks in—a crisp, snapping snare that feels like a heartbeat. Bieber’s voice, still in that pre-pubescent "sweet spot," carries an incredible amount of weight. He sounds genuinely hurt. When he hits those high notes in the chorus, it doesn't feel like a vocal exercise. It feels like a kid who just saw his world end because a girl held someone else's hand.
The Rascal Flatts Remix: A Stroke of Marketing Genius
Let's talk about the country version. Honestly, this was one of the smartest moves Scooter Braun ever made.
In 2011, Bieber teamed up with Rascal Flatts for a remix of That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber. On paper, it sounds insane. Why would the biggest teen pop star in the world collaborate with a country trio from Columbus, Ohio?
Because it expanded his reach into the "middle America" demographic.
Suddenly, moms who hated "Baby" were listening to this track on country radio. Gary LeVox’s powerhouse vocals added a layer of legitimacy to the song that silenced a lot of critics who thought Justin was just a studio creation. The music video for this version—which features the band and Justin in a rehearsal studio—actually won Collaborative Video of the Year at the 2011 CMT Music Awards.
Think about that for a second. A kid from Stratford, Ontario, won a country music award for a pop song he’d already released a year prior.
Why the Lyrics Still Hit So Hard
The lyrics are simple. That's the secret.
"You said you needed space, is that what you meant?"
Anyone who has ever been ghosted or told "it's not you, it's me" felt that line in their marrow. The song captures the specific unfairness of a breakup. It’s about the narrative we build in our heads: I was the one who was supposed to be there, not him. It taps into a very human sense of entitlement that comes with young love. We think we own the person we care about. When That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber plays, it validates that feeling of being replaced.
The Breakup Anatomy of the 2010s
Back then, we didn't have Instagram Stories to obsess over. We had Facebook albums and BBM (BlackBerry Messenger) status updates. If you saw your ex change their "relationship status" or post a grainy 3MP photo with someone else, this was the song you put on repeat while staring at your ceiling.
It served as a bridge. It took Bieber from the "cute kid" phase into a performer who could handle emotional complexity. Even now, if you go to a karaoke bar or a wedding, you'll see people in their late 20s and early 30s screaming the lyrics to this song. It’s nostalgic, sure, but the hook is also just objectively well-written.
The Legacy of That Should Be Me
If you look at the trajectory of Justin's career, this song was the first hint of the artist he would become on Purpose and Justice. He wasn't just doing "bubblegum" anymore. He was doing "sad boy" pop before it was the dominant genre on Spotify.
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The song has been covered by countless YouTubers and aspiring singers. It’s a staple for singing competitions like The Voice or American Idol because it allows a singer to show off their range and their "emotional connection" to a lyric.
But nobody quite does it like the original.
There’s a vulnerability in the 2010 recording that Justin probably couldn't replicate today. He’s a married man now. He’s been through the wringer of global fame. That specific, innocent "my life is over because she’s with him" energy is something you can only capture when you’re sixteen.
How to Revisit the Track Today
If you’re feeling nostalgic or just want to understand why this song has billions of streams across platforms, here is how you should actually listen to That Should Be Me by Justin Bieber to get the full effect:
- Listen to the "Never Say Never" Remixes version. This is where the Rascal Flatts version lives. The vocal layering is slightly better than the original My World 2.0 cut.
- Watch the Music Video. Look for the "making of" vibes. It’s a time capsule of 2011 fashion—side-swept bangs, vests over t-shirts, and those giant Supracolor headphones.
- Compare it to "Ghost." Listen to "That Should Be Me" and then listen to his recent hit "Ghost." You’ll see the DNA of his songwriting. He’s always been at his best when he’s singing about what’s missing.
The song isn't just a relic of the "Bieber Fever" era. It's a masterclass in how to write a heartbreak song that sticks. It doesn't need a thousand metaphors. It just needs a simple truth: it should have been me.
To get the most out of this track for your own playlists or covers, focus on the dynamics. The song works because it starts quiet and ends loud. If you're a musician trying to learn it, pay attention to the bridge—that's where the real emotional payoff happens. For the casual listener, just let yourself feel that 2010 angst one more time. It's cheaper than therapy.