*~*~The Courtyard~*~*
This is the courtyard. Out here we have a TV set up
where usually Beany sees Becky watching BSB videos. She told
me to ask you, to read her video reviews and let her know
if you agree. Email Beany and tell her about it. Also,
you want to comment about your stay at the castle, email
Beany and he will put your comment up out here in the
courtyard
Ok, People have been asking about the article in Spin Magazine that
supposedly "Proves Nick is a Bastard"(according to the anti-bsb sites). So
here it is and you can judge for yourself
SPIN
July, 1998
by Maureen Callahan
IN BED WITH...BACKSTREET BOYS
Say "wassup" to the new kids on the block: 1998
song-and-dance pinups the Backstreet Boys. Their
young fans absolutely adore them, but, Maureen
Callahan wonders, is the feeling entirely mutual?
TIFFANY IS, LIKE, SHAKING. SHE HAS JUST SMELLED A BACKSTREET
BOY. "He was wearing cologne!" she shrieks, as she pogos outside Disney
World's House of Blues. The venue itself, where the Backstreet Boys will later
perform to a sellout crowd whose average age is 12, is more than apt: An
antiseptic franchise inspired by similarly successful ventures, it's practically a
metaphor for the Boys themselves. But to the girls who swarm around Tiffany
on this bright Florida afternoon, Backstreet inspire nothing less than reverence.
"I was close to Nick once," says a solemn 15-year-old named Jana. "But I was
so shocked I couldn't say anything."
Having borrowed liberally not just from now-defunct, sexually nonthreatening
Euro boy bands such as Take That and East 17 but also from the American
daddy of them all-New Kids on the Block-the Backstreet Boys have emerged as
the teenybopper band of the moment. "I've tried everything to meet them," says
a shy, chubby fan named Katie, who would really rather worship from afar; she's
happy to sit with her copy of Hangin' With the Backstreet Boys: An
Unauthorized Biography, and reread factoids about Nick. "We have a lot in
common," she says, readjusting her wire-rimmed glasses. "We both like to
play Nintendo, and we both like sports, and...ooooh, he's fine!"
Eighteen-year-old Nick Carter is by far the most popular Boy-he's the youngest
and looks a lot like Leonardo DiCaprio. Then there's 20-year-old A.J. "Bone"
McLean, who-with his three tattoos, wacky facial hair, and 200 pairs of tinted
sunglasses-is either a cliché or kinda dangerous, depending on your age.
Howie Dorough, 24, answers to Howie D. or Sweet D. He lives at home, and
aside from a Corvette Stingray, his most extravagant post-fame purchase has
been central heat and AC. Howie hooked up with Nick and A.J. back in 1993,
when they were all auditioning for TV shows here in their native Orlando. Kevin
Richardson, now 27, responded to an ad placed by a talent agency; he then
called his cousin, Brian Littrell. Unlike the others, who were looking to get
famous any way they could, 23-year-old Brian had nursed dreams of singing
professionally. In fact, back in high school, he'd wander the halls crooning New
Kids tunes. "People looked at me like it was a sissy thing," Brian says, "but I
didn't care. I would've given anything to do what they were doing."
Today, thanks to their manager, Johnny Wright, he is. Wright had just come off
four years as the New Kids' road manager, working under über-Svengali Maurice
Starr, when, in 1993, he heard about a quintet of pretty white boys who could
harmonize like an R&B group. He immediately saw the possibilities. "It was all
hip-hop and alternative music then," says Wright, "but I knew that the girls who
had been New Kids fans had little sisters."
Though they may be five men who dress alike, pop-and-lock in sync, and
routinely dodge stuffed animals onstage, the Backstreet Boys-and
Wright-predictably run from any and all comparisons to NKOTB. Still, while
creating and refining their image, Wright called ex-New Kid Donnie Wahlberg
and asked him to give Backstreet advice. Wahlberg passed. "Johnny Wright
learned a lot from us," Wahlberg says ruefully. Now 28 years old and cobbling
together an acting career, Wahlberg understands all too well the ups and downs
of being a teen heartthrob. "If there's any resistance to the Backstreet Boys,"
he says, "it's probably because of us."
THREE HOURS BEFORE THE SHOW, THE HOUSE OF BLUES OPENS its
doors to 17-year-old Leslie, who is confined to a wheelchair. The band's tour
publicist, Denise (who is also A.J.'s mom), had mentioned the Boys would be
busy entertaining "a little handicapped girl" before the concert, but Leslie isn't
the one. She doesn't care; it's her birthday, and she's just spotted Nick roaming
the hall. She's so rattled she inadvertently crumples her Backstreet Boys
calendar. As Nick perfunctorily wishes Leslie a happy birthday, he spies two
able-bodied girls lurking not five feet away, and he's off. Later, as he passes
Leslie on his way backstage, she goes for it again: "Nick! Nick!" she implores,
hands clawing air. Nick, who possesses a finely calibrated sense of
detachment, pretends not to hear her. "Oh," Leslie whispers to herself. "Bye."
Back in the dressing room, Nick and the others huddle with Wright. It was
Wright who devised the plan of attack that broke Backstreet: While the alt-rock
revolution was raging in the States, Wright took them to Europe and slapped
them on every boy-band bill he could, exploiting their all-American
wholesomeness. ("At one point I had them run across the stage with the
American flag," he says proudly.)
At home, Wright was forced to go the direct-market route, quietly dispatching
the Boys to theme parks and junior highs across the nation. "Teenage male
vocal groups were not going to meet with acceptance in America," says Jeff
Fenster, VP of A&R at their record label, Jive. "So the idea was to make a
record that would appeal to the global marketplace." Fenster hired Swedish
writing/producing duo Denniz PoP and Max Martin, who had penned hits for
Robyn, and produced Ace of Base and Ireland's version of Backstreet,
Boyzone. The Euro strategy worked: Backstreet's self-titled debut album, a
slick collection of New Jack posturings, went on to sell 12 million copies
overseas. Eventually, pop groups such as Hanson and the Spice Girls eased
Backstreet's reentry Stateside (their album is now quadruple platinum here);
likewise, their success has spawned a slew of harmonizing teen hopefuls, such
as 'N Sync, Five, No Authority, and 911-none of which have yet to register with
the kids. As the Boys can testify, winning over the jaded youth of America can
be a bitch. "Those were the most intimidating, cruelest crowds," says Kevin of
the band's days on the junior-high circuit. "Little teenage dudes coming up to us
saying, 'Backstreet Boys? Who are you?'"
Though Wright maintains that the Boys are "very much in control of what they
do," both Kevin and Howie have flinched over Wright's tactics. "We don't wanna
be in a certain situation," says Howie, gently alluding to the New Kids' career
trajectory, "but we have links to certain situations." After making the video for
"Quit Playing Games (With My Heart)," Kevin, aghast at the sight of himself
bare-chested and wet, demanded a reshoot. The record company shooed him
away. After their album was finally released here last August, Kevin called the
president of Jive and griped that all the merchandising-Sweet Valley High
inserts, throw pillows, bandannas, key chains-was out of hand. He was told to
suck it up. "There's always gonna be a market of little girls who wanna hang
cute boys on their walls," says Dave McPherson, Jive's assistant VP of A&R,
who signed the Boys in May 1994. Wahlberg is even less tolerant of such
whining: "Look, if you're lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time,
you're gonna tap into a frenzied marketplace," he says. "Teenage girls have an
insatiable appetite."
Despite the short shelf life of most boy bands, Backstreet plan on a long-term
career. They're all learning to write and play instruments, and McPherson says
they have a shot. His major issue is with their lyrics, which are pure Hallmark.
Only one line on their album remotely smacks of do-me abandon ("Am I
sexual?"), and when they deliver it in Orlando, the girls roar and pound the
floorboards so violently two roadies rush to secure the speakers. Still, the real
highlight of any show comes during "I'll Never Break Your Heart," when Howie,
Kevin, and Nick-in a move conceived by Wright-serenade three lucky fans,
pre-plucked by security. As the girls tremble under spotlights, the Boys,
swathed in white, gallantly seat each at a small table, then fall to their knees
like lovesick troubadours. Tonight, Howie and Kevin pull it off with aplomb; Nick,
however, is laughing so hard he's reduced to lip-synching. He gives his girl a
buddy pat on the back; she shoots him a quizzical look, but he keeps his head
bowed. He's still laughing.
THAT'S WHEN LIZ ARANA PASSES OUT-NOT AT THIS SHOW, but at this
same moment. "Oh, that is so beautiful when they sing to the girls," she gasps.
Liz is a soft-spoken 15-year-old who, with her sloped eyelids and slight heft,
seems like the kind of girl who yearns silently from her Long Island bedroom.
But at last year's New York City Backstreet Boys show, her first ever, she was
drunk with adrenaline. "Okay," she begins. "I pushed my way to the front of the
stage, and there was some 12-year-old standing in front of me on a crate!" So:
Liz knocked the girl down, climbed onto the crate, ripped off her bra and threw it
at Nick, and then completely lost it. "When they sang 'I'll Never Break Your
Heart,' I just burst out crying, and then I passed out." Liz, who bursts out crying
whenever she sees anything of theirs for the first time-a video, a photograph, a
TV appearance-says it was awful. "I missed three songs!"
Liz spends suburban afternoons watching her compilation tape of Backstreet
appearances, or pasting photos into her Backstreet scrapbook, or staring at her
walls, which are plastered with Backstreet pinups. The walls, she says, are a
problem. "My mom just painted them," she says, "and she wants the posters
down. So does my boyfriend." Robbie, whom Liz has been dating for a month
("He's my first serious, serious boyfriend"), loathes the Backstreet Boys. "He
says they're faggots and they can't sing," she says. "I'm like, 'Your point is...?'"
This is the first time Liz has ever been so enthralled with a band-she says she
has spent more than $1,000 on Boys merchandise-and she, like millions of
other girls before, is slightly embarrassed by the depths of her passion. She
only feels comfortable talking about it with other girls, girls who, like her, are
beginning to date real boys but who feel safer longing for the unattainable
ones-the Nick Carters. She cradles a slip of memo paper and reads a quote of
Nick's that she copied: "Everyone wants a girl with a perfect personality; it
doesn't really matter how they look." Does she believe boys when they say stuff
like that? "Not all boys," she answers softly. "But Nick, I would believe."
A COUPLE OF DAYS AFTER THE HOUSE OF BLUES GIG, THE BOYS ARE
IN NEW YORK City for a photo shoot. They hug-they perform this ritual
constantly, even after only a half-hour apart-then circle a gaggle of models as
though they've encountered unidentified life forms. Johnny Wright says that
during the junior-high tour, he made sure that the kids knew that "A.J. loves
cars, Howie loves clothes, and Nick, Brian, and Kevin love sports. We wanted
to show that these are regular guys"-i.e., not gay. The courtship of teen girls
dictates that the Boys remain publicly unattached, and this makes them
sensitive to the notion they are anything but heterosexual. Howie understands
it's "not macho" to be into Backstreet, but says if the band were black, they'd
get compared to Boyz II Men or Shai, and boys would be down. Here, too,
Donnie Wahlberg can empathize. "But instead of worrying about who's not
paying attention to them," Wahlberg says, "they should worry about who is.
Because once these girls get older and start drinking beer and piercing their
noses," he says, "theys (sic) are going away."
While the others chat up the models, Brian stands off in the back. He's the only
Boy who's not really comfortable schmoozing or even accepting compliments;
by nature, he's quiet and reserved. (While the rest of the Boys went clubbing
after the Orlando show, Brian hung with his 50-year-old dad, who was visiting
from Kentucky.) Right now, he can't get his mind off the "little handicapped girl"
A.J.'s mom brought backstage in Orlando; she's actually battling two forms of
cancer. "I didn't know how to approach her," says Brian, whose most vivid
childhood memory is of doctors strapping him to his hospital bed and beating
his chest till he was in tears, hoping to break up a staph infection that went
straight to his heart. (About a year ago, Brian's heart began leaking blood, and
he underwent surgery last month.) "I wanted to say, 'Listen, I'm getting ready to
have an operation, too.' So I went over to her mother and told her that, and her
mother said, 'Oh, my daughter could tell you a lot of things.'" His eyes widen.
"Can you imagine?"
THE NEXT MORNING, THE BOYS ARE ON REGIS & KATHIE LEE,
PERFORMING "As Long as You Love Me," a sparkly ode to unconditional love.
Nick shares lead vocals with Brian and sings to his own image in the monitor.
During the Q&A, Kathie Lee, eyes dewy, offers to set Brian up with her niece,
who's also had heart surgery. As soon as the segment is completed, they
clamber into a waiting van. The garage door shimmies open, and girls begin
crawling all over the van, smushing their faces up against the glass. Nick turns
to Brian. "You know, if we don't go out there," he says wearily, "we're gonna
look like real pricks."
Having fulfilled all obligations, Nick and Brian head to the nearest Blimpie. Nick
orders a tuna fish hero and, as he blithely stares at himself in the mirror, tries to
discern the nature of teen girl fandom. He comes up empty: "It's real hard to put
yourself in their shoes," he says finally. But Nick's obviously amused by the
frenzied adulation-for instance, he could barely contain himself onstage just four
nights ago. "The joke was on Howie," says Brian, who explains that security
likes to play "little pranks" to break up the monotony. Nick bounces with
delight, like a baby in a high chair. "Howie ended up with a not-so-pretty girl,"
he says, wiping errant chunks of tuna from his chin. "Do you remember her? Do
you?" Oh, sure--she was one of the heavier ones, right? "Aaaahhhh, yeah,"
Nick says, with strained diplomacy. "I got my girl, Kevin got his girl, and the
last girl was Howie's. He got stuck, and he made this face like, 'I'm gonna kill
somebody.'" He shrugs. "It was funny."
On the way back to the hotel, Nick and Brian are intercepted by yet more fans.
They pose for pictures and hurriedly scrawl autographs; a couple of girls hang
back and speak in hushed tones. "You know, I saw Nick sign an autograph for
one girl and then he threw it back at her. I want to know why he's like that."
"You know what I wonder?" says her friend. "I want to know if he would ever
date a fan."
Becky says
All I Have To Give
Since I am from the states I havent been able to see this video however,
on the "All Access Video" we got to see a sneak preview and it looks
like an pretty good video. It would be a big help if someone from Canada
or Europe would help me out with this one. Or better yet, I'd be willing
to pay money$$ if someone would tape it for me....hint, hint.
I'll Never Break Your Heart
Well...It's my favorite song but the video had its cheesy parts. Nicks
hair..if that boy does not cut it, I will take scissors to it myself. I
dont really care for the girls in the video either. I guess, I have a
tinge of jealousy. But it is a good video and the little dog that Brian
is holding, my dog looks exactly like that. Lizzy your a star!!! I just
one question, the drawings in the background of Nicks bedroom, does
anyone know if he drew them???? Let me know.
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