Future prediction: Eager to shake off their throwaway boy-band image and
escape the built-in obsolescence of manufactured teen-pop, the Backstreet Boys
take a leaf out of Radiohead's book and release an album of top-40-unfriendly,
6+-minute experimental noodlings, hiring the likes of Richard James and Mark Bell
(of Björk fame) for production.
It flops and gets about as much critical acclaim as Vanilla Ice's rap-metal
makeover (despite being plugged by industry marketing shills), at the same time
alienating their fan base. The group sinks without a trace not long after that.
The album, soon deleted, becomes a collector's item amongst the more
eristically-inclined obscurantist trainspotters (the ones who have Rump's Hating Brenda,
Pat Boone's In A Metal Mood and Pee Wee Ferris' commercial-dance take
on Blue Monday in their collections)
There are no comments yet on ""
Want to say something? Do so here.
Please keep comments on topic and to the point. Inappropriate comments may be deleted.
Note that markup is stripped from comments; URLs will be automatically converted into links.