From Walthamstow to Jakarta: East 17 poses for teens<\/p>\n
By Dini S. Djalal<\/p>\n
JAKARTA (JP): Work-outs, dance lessons, photo sessions,
\nclothes try-outs and visits to the tanning salon: Being in a boy
\nband is no picnic.<\/p>\n
With all those hours with their stylists, it's a wonder that
\nthese pin-ups have any time for songwriting.<\/p>\n
A decade after Duran Duran sent teenyboppers swooning, the boy
\nband phenomenon shows few signs of abating. Whether it's boys
\nfrom Boston (New Kids on the Block) or boys from Manchester (Take
\nThat), photogenic hopefuls continue to creep into the
\nimpressionable hearts of young girls and onto the charts.<\/p>\n
But despite the onstage swagger, being a teenage sensation is
\na stressful occupation. Ironically, their biggest advantage --
\ntheir looks -- is also their downfall. A pretty face can take you
\nfar -- far into the depths of teen magazines, and into the bottom
\nof a critic's wastebasket.<\/p>\n
What's worse than bad press is growing up. A Duran Duran
\nposter once hung in my locker; the following year all that was
\nleft was the cellotape stain. And as the fans mature, so do the
\nboys, leaving only wrinkles and flagging record sales.<\/p>\n
So when East 17 took the stage at M-Club in Blok M Plaza,
\nKebayoran Bru, South Jakarta, last Sunday, I paid my respects.
\nHere they were, four working-class boys -- Tony Mortimer, John
\nHendy, Terry Coldwell and Brian Harley -- from London's East End
\n(East 17 is the postal code for Walthamstow), grinding and
\ngrinning in their best Dolce & Gabbana and gold chains.<\/p>\n
Were they laughable? Often. Were they fun? Absolutely. Were
\nthey good? Maybe when they were actually singing.<\/p>\n
Does stardom lead to lip-synching, or is it the other way
\naround? Initially I thought the guy at the back (lead songwriter
\nTony Mortimer) was singing and I just couldn't see him. So I
\nmoved to get a better view of the stage, and found Mortimer
\nfocused on his synthesizer, mouth closed.<\/p>\n
When, at one point, none of the boys actually opened their
\nmouths but pre-recorded vocals still blared out of the speakers,
\nI waited for the crowd to riot. Instead, the screaming girls
\nsquealed louder, reaching excruciating decibels at the end of the
\nhour-long show.<\/p>\n
That's a relief for East 17, whose discomfort with the show's
\nset-up was hidden under well-rehearsed showmanship. \"The show was
\nalright,\" John Hendy told The Jakarta Post. \"Well, it was a bit
\ndodgy,\" he added. \"But we'll do it better live when we come back
\nin January\".<\/p>\n
Hopefully their tour promotion will also be better. Even when
\npacked, M-Club is a small venue for a band used to playing
\n10,000-capacity stadiums. A band whose first and second albums,
\nWalthamstow and Steam, were staples on European pop charts, also
\ndeserves more publicity than the handful of posters scattered
\naround the city.<\/p>\n
So it's a surprise that the band wasn't more disappointed
\nstanding in front of a less-than-half capacity crowd. Instead.
\nthe three front-stage singers -- Terry Coldwell, John Hendy and
\nBrian Harley -- performed with admirable professionalism. No
\ninstruments for these boys; only dancing and (occasionally)
\nsinging. Their frustration, however, was obvious when Mortimer
\nyelled to the audience, \"If you don't make more noise, we're not
\ncoming back\".<\/p>\n
How much noise can a couple hundred youngsters make?
\nApparently not enough. So rather than wait in vain for musical
\ngenius, I decided to join the gaggle of gaping girls. My
\nenthusiasm stopped short of waving a placard proclaiming \"Marry
\nme Tony\" (a plan some of the 14-year-olds were convinced they
\ncould pull off).<\/p>\n
So while grooving to the easy swingbeat of All around the
\nworld, it dawned on me that what matters most for both East 17
\nand their fans is a good time. Pop drivel may not be relevant,
\nbut it is not a crime.<\/p>\n
And however well-executed its presentation, drivel it was.
\nIt's alright\/ it's alright\/ everything's gonna be alright\/ truly
\nalright, East 17 shout in the appropriately-titled house anthem
\nIt's Alright. Let it rain, Where horses run, and House of Love,
\nare all simple ditties tuned to a techno beat.<\/p>\n
The simplicity almost seems insidious, which in itself may be
\npart of the marketing ploy -- a ploy which works. East 17
\ngraffiti permeates all corners of East London. The unemployment-
\nstricken local community has entrusted a lot of their pride in
\nthese high-school drop-outs made good.<\/p>\n
In their matching homeboy attire (baggy jeans and baggy
\nshirts), they are England's version of gentle hoodlums and
\nsymbolize how the young working-class English now want to be
\nseen: rough on the outside and soft on the inside. The corporate
\nimage, as assisted by manager Tom Watkins (also of the Pet Shop
\nBoys), soon becomes too lucrative to give up.<\/p>\n
But all that money can be suffocating. When Take That
\nannounced their split last month complaining of \"pressures\", few
\nwere surprised. Being a manufactured idea, however glamourous, is
\ntiresome both mentally and physically.<\/p>\n
While a rock band spends months in the studio crafting songs,
\na boy band rarely gets days off from touring, rehearsing,
\nprimping, and merciless media attention. Add to that the tension
\nof constantly being with people you may not be friends with
\notherwise. The pressure mix is potentially explosive.<\/p>\n
East 17, unfortunately, are comprised of four friends who went
\nto the same school and lived in the same neighborhood. Are they
\nstill good friends now after five years of being East 17? Only
\nthey (and their manager) can say. The concert here revealed
\nlittle but a group of boys trained to stage precision. And
\nperhaps, that's all there is to reveal.<\/p>",
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