Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, March 10, 1990 TAG: 9003102605
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHRIS GLADDEN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A few years after that, I covered my share as a newspaper reporter - Elvis, the Eagles, Ted Nugent, Bob Seger, the Rolling Stones, B.B. King.
Friday night, I went in a new capacity - as a father.
For those who don't have children in their early teens and younger, the group New Kids on the Block was in town. Those of you who do are no doubt aware of the fact.
Up until this past Christmas, I had never heard of New Kids on the Block - which shows just how ignorant you can become by the time you reach 40.
But during the holidays, we were introduced to a New Kids song called "Funky, Funky Christmas" by our 7-year-old son Sean. Since then, New Kids mania has consumed the household. We've had to watch the concert on the Disney channel and Sean and his buddies have formed a New Kids group at school: Sean's Donnie by the way.
As we entered the Roanoke civic center, I was instructed by Sean not to do anything embarrassing. By that time, I realized I was in the midst of a full-blown phenomenon. Tickets for the coliseum, which seats upwards of 10,000, sold out the week they went on sale. Most of the buyers were apparently girls between the ages of 8 and 15. Most also have fearfully powerful vocal cords.
Not since the height of Beatlemania have I observed anything quite like what I heard Friday. Think of 500 fire trucks whose sirens are run through the biggest amps modern technology can create. One kind mother tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a tissue to stuff in my ears when she noticed that I obviously had crossed over the pain threshold. And I'm the kind of guy who likeds to hear steel girders rattle during rock concerts.
The object of all this hysteria is a group of five young guys from Boston who sing pop music with a heavy rhythm and blues and funk influence. Though they call themselves kids and their audience hovers in the preadolescent and early adolescent stage, most of the guys can vote. Their music is slick and ranges from slow, romantic ballads mooning over "favorite girls" to peppy numbers such as "The Right Stuff."
For an old rock'n'roll crazy, they and their music are too sanitized. But for the father of a 7-year-old, they're somewhat of a relief. They treat their audience with respect and with the responsibility of people who know how much influence they can wield over the young. They carry an anti-drug message and they seem like nice fellows who are making a killing. Witness the T-shirts that sell for $20 at each concert. We left with a pennant and a cap to the tune of $18 Friday.
The concert was opened by a group of real kids, preteens called the Perfect Gentlemen. Sweet Sensation, a flashy girl group, followed and each of the acts drew their share of screams but they were only practice for the real thing.
When New Kids, backed by a tight and funky band, bounced onto the stage, the whole civic center exploded with screams. Back in the days of the Beatles, the Fab Four couldn't hear themselves play. But modern technology being what it is, the sound level from the stage more than compensated for the screams. We're talking mega-loud.
Clean-cut cut and bouncy, New Kids danced and sang their way through a professional show punctuated by some dramatic laser effects. The kids in the audience responded with pure adulation. And if it hadn't been for the sheer decibel level, it would have been a pretty painless experience for the parents on hand.
by CNB