20 January, 2006
Part One: Backstreet’s Back (The Press Con)
I was lucky enough to be chosen to attend the very tightly guarded
The Boys were a bit subdued, especially Howie, who looked exhausted. Brian (remember when he wanted to be called B Rock?) was the chipper one, always punctuating sentences with his signature falsetto “all right!” and making the audience laugh. Kevin was very eager to answer questions, while Nick and AJ hovered in between boredom and interest, depending on the question asked.
This is probably the best press con I’ve attended because:
- I asked a question that generated the longest answers from the Boys (I guess it’s rarely asked, because they seemed surprised to hear it), and
- I got to tell Howie how I feel about him.
I asked the Boys what they did aside from their music. Howie (or Trump Jr., as Brian called him) seemed surprised that someone knew that he was into real estate, and waited until everyone had answered the question (they kept handing him the mike but he refused to take it until Brian was done) before going into a lengthy explanation of his real estate business. He is so cool! And I was so, to quote an 80’s cliché “kilig to the max.” Can you blame me?
After the press con, the other Boys exited fast but Howie lagged behind. He passed me, and before I knew what was happening, I had stuck my hand out and had yelled his name. He turned toward me and shook my hand (nice, firm grip there). I looked him n the eye and said, “Howie, I love you.” He returned my gaze and said, “Thank you.”
Luis is, of course, amused by all this. I asked him which artist he would say “I love you” to if he had the chance. After thinking for a bit, he finally replied, “It would be weird, because he’s a man, but I think it would have to be David Bowie.”
I said, “Well, I think David Bowie would understand.”
Part Two: Never Gone (The Concert)
For the first time ever, I decided to save money and go for the cheap seats. It didn’t turn out to be such a bad investment, even though from where I was sitting, the Backstreet Boys could have been ants with clothes on and I wouldn’t have noticed.
It was fun to watch the crowd. There was a lot of screaming, of course, and it was amazing how, when the crowd sang along to the Boys, they (the crowd) sounded like a 12 year old girl, but en masse. Sort of like a mind colony like in the movies, but before puberty.
It was great to scream along with them. I felt like I was twelve again, being awed by the presence of the boy band that fueled my pre-pubescent daydreams (that honor actually goes to two other bands which I will not mention. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough with this post. Suffice it to say that Robbie Williams used to belong to one of them).
That, I think, is BSB’s real draw. They have the ability to transport their now (considerably) older fans back to a time when things were simpler, where crushes consisted of daydreaming about dating someone you’ve only seen in a music video or a magazine, and when songs with simple lyrics like “You are my fire, my one desire” were enough to make the world a better place.
Even though there are bands and artists that I like more than the Backstreet Boys, it is only to Howie I can imagine professing my love. Besides, I don’t think Brian Molko or Tilo wolf would understand. It’s a little girl thing.