The Backstreet Boys are the best boy band ever. Fight me.
BUM BUM BUM-BUM, BUMBA-DUM-DUM
The music swells, the Backstreet Boys pop out of thin air onto a dramatically backlit stage, and I immediately burst into tears. As a fifty-four-year-old woman with three practically grown boys, who is fighting a losing battle with menopause and an ever-increasing antipathy towards crowds, concerts and loud noise, in general, this took me by surprise.
As they begin their first set, I ping-pong from crying to laughing to screaming and waving to singing along at the top of my lungs and back again. If the heady rush of pure communal joy evoked by a crowd’s reaction to their favorite band’s favorite song could be bottled, I swear it could inspire world peace.
Thinking back to six months prior, when I got the Backstreet Army Fan Club newsletter (yes, it’s a thing and yes, I’m a proud member), announcing a Vegas residency at The Sphere, I can’t believe I almost opted out. But menopause and misanthropy be damned, here I am. I look over at the decidedly not boy-band-crazy girlfriends I recruited (bullied) into joining me on this adventure. They are looking back at me with bemused awe because they don’t know this “me.” Hell, I barely know this “me,” but I am reveling in every minute. We have great seats. I can still sing every song. I swoon every time one of the Boys looks our way.
The Boys requested a white-out theme from their fans to help them honor the 25th anniversary of their multi-platinum “Millenium” album. Since I would never dare disappoint Brian, Nick, Howie, Kevin and AJ, I dug out the original Millennium tour t-shirt I’d gotten at their October 1999 concert in Chicago. I had modified it during my first pregnancy (I’d cut out the neck, Flashdance style), but otherwise, still good to go!
That shirt brought back so many memories. I had recruited (bullied) my fresh out of college sales assistant to go with me that time. She reluctantly agreed because I was her boss, I was paying and she couldn’t believe I was boy-band-crazy, so she had to see it for herself. We had great seats. I sang every song. I’m still convinced Brian made eye contact with me and waved. Of course, he was my favorite, so I actually swooned. My assistant was suitably horrified that her almost thirty-year-old boss was acting like a pre-teen with her first crush.
The thing about boy bands is that they are the perfect targets for that first preteen crush. They are all swoon-worthy but in very distinct ways. For the Backstreet Boys, I’d describe them as: Brian – the golden voice, the jawline, the intense but sincere one; Nick – the mischievous, adorable youngest; Howie – the safe, sweet one; Kevin – the dark, brooding, mysterious one; AJ – the bad boy.
At the height of any boy band’s popularity, they are just old enough to be out of reach, but not too old that it’s creepy. They are untouchable, yet the idea of being their “one” never feels impossible. They sing ballads like they can read every young girl’s wildest dream for true love. They stare out of teen magazines, music videos and posters like golden-boy Mona Lisas – they “see” you.
As they age, so, too, do their fans. Many fans move on but still feel their hearts break when the guys date, marry and have their own families. You mean I wasn’t your “the one,” Brian? Most boy bands inevitably break up, do solo tours, try acting, try producing, reality tv or other pursuits, sell stuff. As a group, they fade away, they get together for reunion tours, they fade again. They become a part of their fans’ formative years and an important part of music history, but the magic inevitably fades, too.
Dare I say, biased as I am, that is not true for The Backstreet Boys. The have never broken up and have never stopped making music together. They have, of course, pursued other avenues, have families and have had their share of internal strife and trauma, but they have always presented a united front and a sincere love for each other and their fans.
Their most famous song, “I want it that way,” is still as popular today as it was when they released it. Maybe even more so, as it has taken on a cultish, legendary status. These days, you would be hard pressed to find anyone unable to sing the chorus and most of the verses.
The Backstreet Boys are now the first pop band to produce a show at The Sphere, and they’ve effectively sold out all twenty-one dates. Their show is a novelty in that, other than the theatrics of The Sphere, itself, there are only the five guys on stage. No back-up dancers or singers, no band. Just a now middle-aged Brian, Nick, Howie, Kevin and AJ, singing and dancing their hearts out. They take the love and energy of the crowd and give it right back, tenfold.
The last strains of their finale fades and I come back to earth, I am on such an adrenaline and hormone induced high that I feel like I’m walking on air. As my tastes have evolved in old-age, the dark, brooding, age-defying Kevin is now my favorite. This time, I’m sure Kevin waved at me before the show closed. I definitely swooned. My friends are suitably bemused.
Looking back, I am beyond grateful that I opted in, embraced that kernel of youthful, hedonistic energy still burning deep down in my core and threw myself, with joyful abandon, into that space where a boy band’s magic can burn bright and beautiful.
To Brian, Nick, Howie, Kevin and AJ – Thank you for keeping that magic alive. I will always want it that way, Backstreet Boys.
