Somehow, some way, the Backstreet Boys Millennium Tour became a record breaker for sales. The Boys Skydome stop sold out in under half an hour — although this isn't too surprising since Canadian girls lap up BB records at a more voracious rate than any other country's teenyboppers.
As an admitted and recovering former New Kids On The Block fan, I felt that since I had two of their concerts under my belt, I should be prepared for the decibel levels reached at a BB show. Either I'm getting too old, or that split eardrum I sustained during the last 10 minutes before BB went on stage actually affected me.
This new breed of boy bands (or marketing masters) have obscenely loud fans — every time you think those high-pitched shrieks cant get any more piercing, they do. Again and again and again. Especially when a Boy's face appeared on one of the screens erected above the pentagonal stage (I haven't figured out yet if the stage's shape was inspired by the number of boys in the band, five, or Satan's pentagram) — a girls gotta scream for her favourite, you know. The seemingly Donnie-Marky Mark Wahlberg-related Brian seemed to draw the most screams.
One things for sure, BB put on an entertaining show. Hey, they have to, it's not like they've got brilliant melodies and profound lyrics to rest their laurels on. They emerged like Jedis caught in a billow of dry ice and frantic shrieks and air-boarded to their neon-accented, tin-foil pentagram. Then they made what seemed like polite ego indulgences as they made their merry way around the stage with their entourage of dancers, stopping at each side giving each boy(?) and girl a glimpse of their glamour while guitars wailed.
"Larger Than Life" set the frenzy in motion, complete with blinding red shots of pyro. And what fans! Why, they only needed one over-head clap to get them all clapping along. So, to answer little Nicks question, "Canada, are you ready to par-tay?" Yes, the girls, and select moms, are ready.
As BB rolled into their second song, "Get Down," it became obvious just how shite those head gear mics are. My NKOTB eyes also picked up that the Boys learned well from their predecessors that pelvic thrusts are a choreographed necessity.
With all the teddies — bears that is — that were being catapulted on to the stage, I wondered just how long it will be before one of the Florida five either trips on one of the cuddly killers and is sent careening into a crowd of hormone-addled, puberty sufferers who will surely french kiss all the flesh off their first human experiment, or be decapitated.
After kisses are blown through "I'll Be The One," each Boy takes a turn in raving about how wonderful Atlanta, er Miami, er make that Toronto is (You don't think all the other fans in other cities hear the exact same line? I never used to either, until I saw a pay-per-view NKOTB show that shattered my mid-teen illusions). A.J. seems to reveal too much as he discloses his nickname, "Bone." As nice as it was that these Americans got Remembrance Day right, Brian must have been confused when wishing the crowd a, "Happy Remembrance Day," and calling it a holiday. Sorry bud, but I don't think all those veterans would agree with you. That mishap was canceled out by Kevin asking for a moment of silence. Though not absolutely, completely silent, it was unfathomably quiet for a BB concert. Any time, however, that Kevin's mug was flashed across the screens, I wondered why he didn't leave his pair of pet caterpillars in a jar backstage where the wouldn't be confused for eyebrows.
The Boys were in the air again during "Quit Playing Games With My Heart," hung by wires and flipping overtop the crowd. Howie even showered the fans below him with red roses. Oh, to own but a petal. The next highlight came when five mother-daughter pairs were somehow found in the sprawling sea of faithful fans, brought on stage and serenaded to for "The Perfect Fan," a tribute to all the mothers in the audience.
Kevin made a shocking appearance at the helm of a piano with accompaniment by Kenny G's sister (not really, she just played the same annoyingly sappy saxomophone styles) and continued to play and sing at the same time on "Find A Way Back To Your Heart." The most interesting camera angle appears on the screen as the four other boys sit on the edge of a step on the stage in a colourful progression of hair — thanks mostly to the manic panic red lid of the group's anomaly, A.J. — from blondes to browns. At this point, Nick's voice begins to betray his melodramatic self. It later dies on "Something Missing In My Heart."
A crashing thunderstorm signals the finale, "Everybody (Backstreet's Back)." Loaded with a sexual energy many of their fans won't even pick up on, they get it goin' on, sing about how they like it, give all they have to give because it's gotta be. It's because they want it that way.
