Getting inside the band


By STEVE HOCHMAN
Los Angeles Times , 3.20.2000

In October, Trevor Penick was living in Rancho Cucamonga, studying theater at Cal State Fullerton and working at a nearby golf course. Today?
''Now I'm in a limo with Diane Warren, who's listening to a tape of me singing a song she wrote,'' he says, with eyes very wide in the presence of pop's premier hit songwriter, whose credits include such smashes as Aerosmith's ''I Don't Want to Miss a Thing'' and Toni Braxton's ''Unbreak My Heart.''
This song is ''Baby I Would,'' a romantic ballad that cried out for five-part boy-band harmonies. That is just how it's rendered on the tape by Penick along with Ashley Parker Angel, Erik-Michael Estrada, Ikaika Kahoano and Jacob Underwood, who are sitting with him, filling the limo with shiny teeth, shiny eyes, shiny-scrubbed features and a clean-cut casual look right off the slick pages of youth fashion magazines.

And if this alone seems like a dream come true, Penick takes it up a notch, readily ruminating about a future filled with such limo rides, plus an added bonus attraction: hordes of screaming girls waiting for the fivesome--the boy band O-Town--to emerge.

At this point, though, no one on Sunset Boulevard in front of La Dome, where they're about to have dinner with Warren, has any clue who these guys are.

Penick's dream isn't so farfetched, though. Consider who else is along for this ride. There's a film crew following the group's every move, and there are several reporters as well this day.

And in the limo with them, crowded next to Warren, is a jolly, roly-poly man--not Santa Claus, but the equivalent in the world of teen-pop. It's Lou Pearlman, the Orlando businessman behind the creation and global pop domination of boy-band phenoms the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync. Now he's trying to do it again with O-Town.

But there's a new wrinkle this time, and that's where the ever-present film crew comes in: While Backstreet and 'N Sync were developed off the pop radar screen before being launched to schoolgirls worldwide, O-Town is doing it all on screen. Every waking minute, the young men are on camera and microphone, whether dining with pop power brokers or clipping their fingernails.

The creation of this group was commissioned for a TV reality series chronicling the creation and launching of a hit boy band. ''Making the Band'' is set to premiere Friday on ABC as a spring and summer entry in the teen-targeted ''TGIF'' lineup. It's the brainchild of MTV Productions, the folks behind the music channel's ''The Real World''--the popular program in which various young strangers have been thrust into living together while cameras chronicle the drama of the resulting human petri dish.

''Making the Band'' expands the voyeuristic formula to the pop music world. In the course of the series it will show the whole process, from initial auditions held from Hawaii to Orlando in October. We'll see the selection of an initial batch of 25 candidates and the weeding down to eight finalists, tossed together into one Orlando house and the pressure cooker of Trans Con's boy-band boot camp. From there it's on to the ultimate selection of the official five members through the process of grooming, rehearsals, recording sessions, personal tumult, rivalries, tantrums, triumphs and--in theory--the explosion of massive fame, all in living color.

Think of it as ''The Real World'' meets ''The Monkees''--though the group bristles when you mention the '60s Prefab Four. ''The Monkees were actors,'' sniffs Angel, at 18 the youngest of the crew, in a meeting room at the Century Plaza Hotel where he and the other four from the limo are joined by Mike Miller, Bryan Chan and Paul Martin to fill out the roster of these eight finalists.

And indeed, these kids were selected for their singing talents and personalities, not merely to pretend. ''We are all here to make a band,'' says San Diego-raised Underwood, 19, who with his slightly beach-punk look fills the required ''rebel'' role of the boy-band formula. ''There's no script.'' Adds Angel, ''It's all real life.''
Well, yes, as long as real life is done through auditions, with the assistance of top-flight songwriters, producers and choreographers for eight young men living in one house, constantly under an electronic microscope. The fact is, though, this is real life for boy bands--except for the Truman Show-level coverage.

''The Backstreet Boys had a house, 'N Sync had a house,'' says Pearlman. And they had auditions, too, as Pearlman in the late '90s transformed his Trans Continental Corp. aviation empire into the premier wellspring of teen pop by conceiving, casting and coaching Orlando-based youth into hit-making machines.

For Pearlman, the beauty of ''Making the Band'' is that the public will get to see the hard work that goes into these successes. ''I love it,'' he says, beaming a broad grin. ''You know why? When they came to me and said, 'What if we were a fly on the wall?' at first I was apprehensive. But I said I would do it if I could show the truth, show that I don't just take five guys off the street and say, 'Poof! You're a boy band.' '' The ABC-TV brass is counting on it.

''What's special about this is these are real kids with real dreams they have been searching for since they were little,'' says Andrea Wong, the network's vice president of alternative series and specials. ''With the show, we're getting really honest reactions from them, hearing about them missing their girlfriends, their excitement about Diane Warren writing one of their songs, or dealing with their contracts.''

Pearlman, too, stresses that the story will play out in an organic fashion, no matter how well he takes care of the details.

''All I can do is put it together,'' he says. ''It's up to the group to make the magic happen.''

What happens, though, when the audience sees how the trick is done?

''I don't know that there's much revealed that the public doesn't already know,'' says Jeremy Helligar, entertainment editor of Teen People, who has seen excerpts from the series in progress.

But the public hasn't ever seen it from the beginning, with Pearlman orchestrating everything from the auditions to the sessions with the top producers and songwriters.

''I think kids don't care how it's done as long as the final product is something they can groove to,'' concurs Heidi Sherman, music editor at Seventeen. ''It's pretty much common knowledge how these things are formed. The Spice Girls had an open casting call. And 'The Real World' is an incredibly popular show, so this combines two of the hottest things going on and puts you behind the scenes.''

At one point during a break, Penick gets on the phone to his mom to update her on his wild life--and let her know that he's going to be very busy and may not get a chance to call for a bit.

A little later, Penick and Marshall attempt to have a private conversation by whispering in a corner. But with their microphones transmitting everything, the crew is alerted and a photographer and soundman dash in to document the moment.

But Pearlman busts any tension effortlessly. Entering the Century Plaza meeting room to big hugs and enthusiastic greetings, he starts verbally sparring with them--like a camp counselor.

And soon he's literally sparring with Penick, as discussion of each's experience in high school wrestling leads to a challenge. They take a starting stance and go at it--and within seconds, Pearlman has taken the younger man down, to the boisterous laughter of all.

Doing their first real meetings with press, the eight O-Towners are eerily on the same page in their take on what they're doing, using similar phrases to answer questions, as if they've been schooled. Yes, they're getting to live out a longtime dream. No, they never really thought about being in a group like this, but when the opportunity came up they realized it was perfect for them. Sure there's a formula to much boy-band music, but they're going to bring something new to it.

And that party-line approach underscores the central question to this enterprise: Aren't they just more Meaty Cheesy Boys--manufactured, fast-food pop?

''We don't see it as manufactured, really,'' says Estrada. ''It worked out perfectly. We all get along great. This is no different than having five guys who grew up together.''

These guys haven't been groomed for stardom--as were Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera and two members of 'N Sync, all of whom were teen Mouseketeers on the Disney Channel's ''New Mickey Mouse Club'' in the mid-'90s.

However, only Underwood played in a rock band in high school. The rest have backgrounds in theater training--three confess to having played the role of Danny Zuko in local productions of ''Grease.'' That would never pass as credible in the rock world, but it's exactly the foundation for teen-pop success, where trained singing, dancing and imaging skills are more important than artistic authenticity or vision.

But now that they have a clear shot at stardom, the drive and determination to reach it is the bond between them and the one thing that allows them to put up with the way they're now living.

''The first couple of days, it was hard,'' says Miller, noting that they are contractually not allowed to ask for the cameras and microphones to be turned off or for shot footage not to be used.

''It felt like an invasion of privacy, waking up and brushing your teeth with a camera there,'' says Angel. ''But that's the sacrifice we're making to get the exposure.''

Indeed, with the market getting flooded with new teen-targeted acts in the wake of the Backstreet-'N Sync domination, it's the very fact of having a TV series that gives the group a leg up. But to these young men, it means even more.

Says Penick, ''It makes a direct connection to the fans. When fans meet members of 'N Sync or the Backstreet Boys, they're star-struck--they've only seen them in videos and magazines. With us, they'll see that we're like them.''

Adds Chan, ''They get to know us before they know the music.''

Back in the limo, the performers show for the E! camera that it's not all manipulation--they perform the song a cappella, hitting the parts quite well, especially considering the cramped conditions. Warren, meanwhile, seems to be breathing a sigh of relief. She admits she was nervous about giving a song that she believes can be a hit to an unknown, unproven group that, frankly, didn't even exist when Pearlman called her about contributing.

Now, O-Town and Pearlman are 'lready addressing whether Warren might offer them more.

''We've talked about that,'' Pearlman says. ''But she wanted to hear this one first. . . . ''

''To make sure they don't suck,'' Warren interjects, leaning to the singers to assure, ''and you don't suck, guys.''

However, it's still no slam-dunk.

''There are so many boy bands coming out now,'' says Teen People's Helligar. ''We've had lots visit us here, and none of them have broken big.''

And even a TV series won't help if the genre fades and the audience moves on to something else, as is inevitable with these things.

ABC's Wong has mapped out some potential extensions on the 22-episode run currently planned, but they're all contingent, of course, on popular demand.

''We'll see how it does and, if it's successful, we think we'll continue,'' she says.
Pearlman is sanguine about it.

''If the group is successful, if the fans want more of these guys, the group will go on,'' he says. ''If not, then we showed how it was done and go on our way.''

Copyright 2000 Times Mirror Company