More than cheap parody, Nobody Like U is a pitch-perfect homage to the Y2K-era boy band music of Backstreet Boys and *NSync, done with genuine appreciation and an attention to detail bordering on the fanatic.

Performed by the fictional Canadian boy band 4*Town – in true turn-of-the-millennium fashion, the band has five members, each adhering to established boy band archetypes: Tae Young, the “cute one”; Jesse, the “artistic one”; Aaron T, the “funny one”; Aaron Z, the “lone wolf”; and Robaire, the “one most likely to go solo” – it features an earworm so hooky that it makes you wonder how the pair also responsible for Barbie’s dirge of existential despair could have come up with it.

There’s so much to love in the song, from the chant-along chorus to its silly proposition to Robaire’s rap verse (“Glendale!” ) to the stuttering effect on the bridge just begging you to dance like JC Chasez. To quote one of the thousands of YouTube comments I’ve bookmarked: “The song is so sensational. If they were a real band, they would’ve been topping the charts now.”

Surprisingly, for a completely fictional band about 20 years removed from their ideal milieu, they almost did. In the US, the song cracked the top 50 on the Billboard Hot 100, and in Australia it became a streaming hit. On YouTube, the song has over 60 million views, which is 53 million views more than 5ive’s Slam Dunk (Da Funk), an original (albeit terrible) song from the actual boy band era.

Everyone knows Nobody Like U is good. Even the untrained ear can recognise its majesty. My three-year-old daughter was barely alive when Turning Red came out, but it’s still her favourite song after Hop Little Bunnies. “Red panda,” she’ll request during my dinnertime DJ sets, and even though I’m in the middle of a seamless transition from the Magnetic Fields to RXK Nephew, I’ll reply: “Correct, let’s red panda”, and we’ll immediately dance like ravers around our pesto pasta.

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Of course, awards shows always raise their noses at life-affirming popular fare, adhering to the fallacy that there’s something worthier in the dull and serious. But we won’t be fooled.

Because when Billie and Finneas hit that Oscars stage to collect their best original song trophy for Barbie’s saddo ballad, we’ll all remember 4*Town and understand exactly what’s happening. “Hoo-ah,” we’ll whisper at our TV sets, with a resigned shake of the head. “It’s just another hoo-ah.”