As many of you already know, I took my wife to see the New Kids on the Block at the Staples center last week. The things you do for love, right?
Well, I’m back to report the original bro’s of pop are back to reclaim the throne of boy band music that they started some 15 odd years ago.
Leading up to the night, I kept having old boy band songs stuck in my head; I figured, it couldn’t be too bad, because at least I’d know a couple songs. Unfortunately, after singing the lyrics of a few of them to Diana, she informed me that the songs in my head were actually Backstreet Boys and ‘N Sync songs.
Shortly before the concert, Diana told me that Joey was her favorite. I was nervous. I thought she only liked their music, but it turned out she also liked the singers. I feared that she might scream like a little girl when he came on stage—perhaps she would even cry?
When I got inside the arena, I quickly noticed the ration of guys to gals was about 200 to 1 (I’m not kidding…it actually might have been a bit higher); I’ve never felt so out of place before.
Please don’t laugh, but I actually had a good time. Not for the obvious reason. I had fun because it was full of women much older then me acting like little girls. It’s cute when a Jonas brother does a generic finger point and a nine year old screams “Oh, my gosh! He’s pointing at me! He loves me!” It’s just plain sad when it’s an over age women gawking at over age men who are reciting that same sentence—and I take pleasure in watching anyone make complete fools of themselves. Throughout the night, I saw an overweight woman nearly fall off the balcony while doing her best to prove she had rhythm by swinging back and forth; saw a group of women say it was “the best concert they have ever seen in their entire life,” and saw more then one woman cry.
Luckily, Diana was perfectly mature; she enjoyed the concert the old fashion way: by singing along to the lyrics. Although, I am not sure what she would have been like if I was not with her...
I can’t quite understand why anyone thought the band itself was so great; if anything I would say they were generic. Their moves were about as good as any white guy at a singles club (which is to say they moved around, but they didn’t do anything exciting). I was expecting something a little more choreographed. Mostly it was just prancing around the stage.
The one song I knew, the “The Right Stuff” was played early in the concert; it brought back memories to the Weird Al song, the “The White Stuff.” That was off of the Off the Deep End CD, which was actually one of the first CDs I ever owned. By the end of the song, I had a smile on my face as I thought about Oreo cookies.
After a generic serenade type song about (I think it was losing someone, but the sound at the arena was so horrible, I for the life of me don’t know what they were singing about), they had a picture tribute of those close to them who had died over the past 15 years. In between slides of family and friends they showed Kurt Cobain, Tupac, and B.I.G. Yes, you read that right! I’ve felt so insulted—I seriously wanted to know who in the crowd thought it was a nice gesture to include that; it was like they were saying that’s who their homeboy’s were.
At one point Jordan (I really wish I knew his last name, so it didn’t come off so personal) ripped off his shirt and revealed, to everyone’s astonishment, that (after 15 years) he still had not managed to grow a single chest hair; I was really hoping that, like pretty much everyone in the audience, he had put on a few pounds and had a beer belly under his shirt, but sadly he was still toned. I was glad Joey, Diana’s favorite, didn’t take his shirt off.
The highlight, in my opinion, was when they sang the song “Tonight” (Diana’s favorite song); I’ve never heard it before, but it had a Beatles-ish melody to it, that was sort of catchy, I shamefully say.
The concert ended with the Bro’s of pop in Boston Celtics jerseys; apparently this was to make them look cool, and it worked; half the women in attendances were drooling over it, and, more then one, said, “Look! They’re dressed like basketball players. They’re so dreamy.” I think they looked like creepy older predators putting on jerseys, so they could go hit the b-ball courts with children, but I guess that was just me.
If you want to see a glimpse of the concert, I put two videos below. You’ll quickly notice two things: one, you can’t make out what the heck they’re singing; two, they are perhaps the whitest dancers alive—seriously all they did all night was prance and slide (there may have also been a little bit of break dancing, but the older lady in front of me had to jump up and down and swing her hands around for the entire song, so I didn’t get to see much of what was going on for that song).
It was no Dylan concert, but it was a nice night out.
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