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TIME: Almanac 1993
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TIME Almanac 1993.iso
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112089
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11208900.022
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1992-09-23
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MUSIC, Page 89Fresh Faces from Beantown
Boston's New Kids on the Block lock up the charts
By Jay Cocks
Born to be hated: fresh-faced white boys, copping black
street attitudes, co-opting black dance sounds, style and slang.
They produce Reddi Wip pop music that comes out of nowhere but
sells a cumulative 7 million on two albums, scoring with five
hit singles (Cover Girl is currently No. 2), while the R. and
B. brothers still struggle for the mainstream breakthrough.
The New Kids on the Block are commercial product all right,
right down to the heels of their felony flyers. Fast-food
Princes, Jack-in-the-Box Jacksons, rappers with no nutritional
value. Right. They're also pretty good and, of course, just
plain pretty. Their just released Merry, Merry Christmas is a
Yuletide celebration that sounds snappy while simultaneously
evoking the innocent pleasures of mistletoe and holly. All the
things that hard rap never is, but those 7 million record buyers
apparently yearn for it to be: safe, snug and (if you listen
close), just a little smug. This is one key to the Kids'
success. Parents are perpetually sweating about rap-smitten,
rock-blitzed offspring going to concerts and mixing it up with
gold-chain snatchers and drug vendors. Little chance of that on
any block where the New Kids reign.
They are as scrubbed up as the Bay City Rollers and as
menacing as lap cats. So what could be their main "dislikes,"
as listed, fan-mag style, on their 1986 debut album? Jonathan
Knight, 20, and Danny Wood, 20, say "prejudice"; Donnie
Wahlberg, 20, mentions "war," and Joseph McIntyre, 17, nominates
"poverty." Jordan Knight, 19, Jonathan's younger brother, plumps
for "all basketball teams except the Celtics." There, then. You
wouldn't mind if your daughter married a New Kid, unless, of
course, you're a Lakers fan.
"We never got together and said we were going to be good
role models," says Donnie. "When we say no to drugs, it's from
seeing people around us using them." The Kids all hail from
Dorchester, a blue-collar section of Boston where the street
action can run pretty heavy. Maurice Starr, 35, the drummer and
producing whiz who put the Kids together in 1985, comes from
neighboring Roxbury, where the streets are definitively mean.
He has produced all the Kids' records, writes much of their
material and commands the instrument work ("All instruments
played or programmed by Maurice Starr" reads a large credit on
the Hangin' Tough album). His gifts give the Kids a smooth buzz,
but his ego increasingly gives them a pain.
Starr, who assembled the soul group New Edition (from which
the superlative Bobby Brown emerged), has the musical
credentials that the Kids still lack. "Our first album was a
Svengali-type situation," Jordan Knight concedes. "But on the
second," Jon Knight adds, "we told him stuff we wanted. We're
from the streets. We like music that is funky, with heavy bass."
This week the Kids leave home (everyone still lives with
his family) for a five-month tour. Starr will show up only
occasionally, so the fans, Donnie thinks, will finally learn
that "Danny is a great songwriter, Jordan is a great
keyboardist, that I am a drummer and singer and dancer." Four
years ago, Jordan auditioned for Starr and got told, "Get ready
to be great. You are going to be the biggest thing in the
world." Replied Jordan: "All I want is a scooter." He got his
wish, and then some. Just now, the New Kids on the Block are
hell on wheels.
-- Elizabeth L. Bland/Boston