British pretty boys Ant & Dec send local teens swooning
British pretty boys Ant & Dec send local teens swooning
By Achmad Nurhoeri
JAKARTA (JP): Regardless of the setting, the result is always
the same when you put young male pop idols at the mercy of a
swarm of adoring female fans. The cadenza of ear-splitting female
screeches only prompts the beefcake on stage to surrender a
wiggle or just a giggle to their hysterical fans.
So what if the fans do not care about lack of vocal range and
musical ability? Whose gripe is it anyway if they are utterly
satisfied by ogling the group's soulful good looks and bodies to
die for?
Last Monday night was true to formula. Although the setting of
Planet Hollywood was quite unusual for a teen-music concert,
Jakarta's adolescent dames showed they, too, are suckers for a
contrived British boy group extravaganza. Continuing this year's
progression opened by the visit of quintet Boyzone in January,
duo Ant & Dec showed that Britain's contemporary "cultural"
invasion is far from over.
A little homework on the group and their startlingly lofty
self-perceptions brought a new perspective on them, natural
descendants of that long lineage of pretty boy groups spanning
Duran Duran, Haircut 100, East 17 and today's cutie-pie
assortment.
Crusade
It was in summer 1994 when actors Ant McPartlin and Declan
Donnelly dropped their parts in popular children's TV program,
Byker Grove, to try their voices in the music world. Earlier in
December 1993, the Geordie boys had commenced the crusade with a
symbolic single called Tonight, I'm Free.
They were not so sure about changing their image, though. For
the sake of maintaining their fame, they intentionally held on to
the names and styles of the characters they played in the TV
show, boys-next-door PJ and Duncan.
The recipe worked. Smash Hits music magazine and Radio 1
crowned the duo the Best New Act in 1994. The BBC, which loved
the guys since they were tube icons, offered them airtime --
their first eight-part series went up, up and away in the ratings
in 1995. The second series in 1996 grabbed the BAFTA award for
Best Children's Entertainment Show.
They made the decision at the best of times as their music --
rap, house and Brit pop wrapped into one -- was swallowed whole
by British fans who lapped up their wholesome image on TV. Two
albums, Psyche and Katz, sailed through the British charts. Nine
singles entered the Top 20 with ease. Nothing, it seemed, could
go wrong.
But when you live out another bloke's life, eventually your
ego gets in the way. In the summer of 1996, two years after the
whole act began, the duo wanted to be themselves. First step,
they killed the characters of PJ and Duncan. Second step, they
made a catchy name of their own, Ant & Dec.
"I'm much happier being called by my real name," Ant McPartlin
told Smash Hits magazine.
A more realistic answer came from his partner. Dec felt that
it was time to grow up. "I was a 20-year-old then and still
called Duncan from Byker Grove. People just didn't take us
seriously. It also made them embarrassed to buy our records."
Having shed their erstwhile image, what kind of mask are they
putting on to secure their moneybags? A clue can be found in
their third album The Cult of Ant & Dec; they want to be cult
leaders.
"Well, there's only me and Ant so far," Dec said. "But our
dream is, one day, to go to a Newcastle United match and see the
whole stadium wearing Ant & Dec masks. Everywhere we go, we want
to see the whole stadium wearing our masks."
The cult campaign seemed to be working during Monday night's
show. More than 200 girls shouted frantically when these young
millionaires sprang out from backstage. Did they love to love
them only for their looks? Some, surprisingly, were more
philosophical.
Nina, 14, said the duo was different from other Brit pop acts
like Take That or Boyzone. "Actually, Ant & Dec has more
exclusive followers because their music is rather different from
the pattern," she said. "They like to put in rap. This makes some
girls avoid them and some boys go to the club. And they're not
like Boyzone which came up from nowhere."
But these die-hard fans cannot deny the boys' adorable looks
are still a major part of their devotion. "Ant & Dec are awfully
cute looking. Take That boys were awfully bad looking," said
Devi, 13.
Boyzone was created and packaged by Polygram and is managed
under the label's strict surveillance. The Take That boys, now
defunct, were male versions of Barbie whose changes of costume in
a concert often exceeded the number of songs sung. But Ant & Dec
are masters of their own show. They have set up Ant & Dec
Production Limited with both among the four executive directors.
They also maintain their casual Byker Grove look, the secret to
their success.
They presented their hits from the PJ & Duncan era like U
Krazy Katz, Let's Get Ready to Rumble, and the most popular tune
in Indonesia, Eternal Love, which triggered audience hysterics.
But it was songs from the Cult album that made the girls
shriek the loudest. In Shout, Dec's guitar playing had the girls
quivering. The duo ended the night with the mushy hit, When I
Fall in Love.
From the fans' reactions alone, the show seemed to be a
success. But for critical observers, there were too many obvious
deceptions. There was no band that set the melody. The duo went
on stage with a play-back recording of the songs. Not only did
the music sound canned, the voices seemed bogus.
When the music stopped at the end of a song, the duo strained
not to open their mouths. Ant occasionally spoke to the fans in
his deep, Geordie-accented voice, which differed from his singing
voice. Dec's neck veins did not contract much. There were no
huffs and puffs after rapping. Although they tried hard, the
duo, like cult leaders wooing back disgruntled followers,
eventually gave a grudging admission of their sins.
"We would like to come back here again.... with a live show,"
said Dec.
How long did the mission take? Believe it or not, eight songs
in 30 minutes. An almost impossible feat for live singers. But
something really possible for trained actors.
Who, then, should you blame if the young and clueless maidens
shrieked their heads off when their cult leader presented the
canned sermon? The cult of the capitalistic music industry which
allows actors to pose as singers, of course.