In the introduction to Lance Bass’ memoir Out of Sync, Marc Eliot says “Here was a young man who had the same dreams as every other American teenager: to become a rich and famous pop star, to have the adulation of every kid in America.” However, as detailed in this featherweight memoir, never has achieving such a dream seemed so…bland.

For 4 short years, *NSYNC was at the top of the charts, causing teenage girls (and no doubt a few boys) to scream and swoon whenever they were spotted in public. During that time Bass would strive to hide his sexual preference. Growing up in a Southern Baptist family, realizing he was gay was terrifying enough. Add in the squeaky clean hetero image he was expected to maintain as a member of a boy band and you’d expect a feeling of horror and oppression. You’d expect it, but you don’t get it here.

For Bass, singing was always his outlet, the one time where he could truly feel comfortable, even while he had to hide part of himself. He writes that as a child he was “much better at holding myself back and pretending things didn’t bother me when they did.” Unfortunately, that’s the problem with this book – it reads like he’s still doing that and it’s a bit infuriating at times.

There’s not any new information you haven’t heard before. He joins *NSYNC, they get famous, manager Lou Pearlman screws them out of most of their money, Bass tries to be an astronaut, and then the band splits up.

Granted, there are some small tidbits. At the height of *NSYNC’s popularity, when Pearlman was controlling the money, the boys had to survive on a $35 per day. Also during the many tours, Bass experienced only a handful of guy-guy hookups (thus shooting down the gay boy-band gang-bang fantasy). He also gives you some background on his time training with the Russian cosmonauts and the disappointment experienced when the funding and TV deals for his orbital attempt fell from the sky.

The experiences he recounts, while interesting, come across as cotton candy light on the details. Bass’ stories are like the ones a super nice but dull guy would relay to friends. Or worse yet, it feels like someone’s “What I Did On My Summer Vacation” essay. For this review, I tried not to go the easy route and savage a pop culture figure, but with the pabulum Bass serves up, it’s like trying not to tear a carpet made of wet tissue.

I wanted some emotions, some anger; a snarky or bitchy remark - at Pearlman for his financial rape of the band; at Justin Timberlake for stringing the rest of *NSYNC along while he recorded and set up his solo debut. Even some rage at the tabloids for outing him. However, the way he recounts these setbacks make them sound like minor annoyances. A ninety-eight year-old grandmother dropping a pearl while knitting seems livid in comparison.

Basically, this book is bland. It’s as non-offensive as white bread and about as exciting as tofu smeared with mayonnaise. If you want to save yourself the money and time, read Bass’ and *NSYNC’s Wikipedia entries online for free.