Richardson's frustration comes after reading a less-than-respectful review of the Boys' just-released album, "Millennium."
"Look at some of the music that's perceived as cool," he continues. "A lot of the rap lyrics glorify getting laid or having two or three different women a night."
Richardson shakes his head in disgust — an extremely rare gesture for a Backstreet Boy. As a rule, B-boys don't express frustration, anger, bitterness or any emotion that might violate their policy of showing as much happiness and gratitude in public as possible. They usually strive to come across like perfect employees of a theme park or a family restaurant — aggressively gracious.
"We want people to have a positive experience with us," Richardson says.
Clearly, a lot of people have.
By anticipating the crest of the teen wave, The Backstreet Boys sold 7.5 million copies of their U.S. debut last year, making it the third-biggest album of 1998. It sold even more than that worldwide. Their new album has already generated an immensely catchy hit, "I Want It That Way," which went to No. 18 in just five weeks on the singles charts. The LP undoubtedly will debut at No. 1 next week on the Top 200 album chart.
Hordes of girls continue to swamp them wherever they go. Today, they're surrounding the Doubletree Hotel in Times Square. Some camped out all night in hopes of catching a mere glimpse of The Boys — unaware that their idols had secured a back-door escape route. Even inside, Richardson can't elude the worship. The minute he leaves his room, a 72-year-old grandmother approaches him for an autograph. "I'm acting like an idiot," she blushes, "But my granddaughter would kill me if ..."
Richardson works her like a pro. He later says that the group's etiquette comes from his own rearing. "We come from small towns in the Bible Belt. We have good relationships with our families. We grew up in the Baptist church, and it's part of us."
Among other things, that means they don't use foul language. "I realize we have a lot of young fans, and when I have kids, I don't want them running around cursing," he says.
Nor do they trash their hotel rooms — although: "Some of us are tidier than others," he says without a hint of irony.
Richardson is quick to dispel the notion that the group is just a bunch of goody-goodies. "We're just trying to live our lives the best we can and make our families proud."
But the new album buffs their squeaky-clean image even brighter. Its opening song, "Larger Than Life," salutes their fans as superheroes, with the band acting as their humble servants.
Richardson's cousin, Brian Littrell, wrote a song saluting his mother. He called it "The Perfect Fan." "Every time we perform it, it runs cold chills over me," Richardson says.
"Millennium" offers the first songs co-written by The Boys. "You take Janet [Jackson], Madonna, Michael Jackson. They grew into their writing," Richardson says. "They didn't just write and produce from the jump."
Neither did The Backstreet Boys sell big from the jump. They had to spend several years building an audience in the fluff-friendly European market, while America got grunge out of its system. In the meantime, Hanson became the first boy pop group to break out in the U.S.
Mention of this to Richardson elicits an unexpected flash of competitiveness. "This is an interesting story about Hanson," he says pointedly. "We were going to sign with Mercury Records. But for some reason, they got cold feet. And then our manager took us to Jive Records, and they saw the vision. I just think it's rather odd that Hanson was signed [to Mercury]shortly after that. I think maybe they felt they missed the boat. Once something becomes successful, all the labels jump so they can get their piece of the pie."
Of course, labels aren't the only ones to act like that. The Backstreeters' own manager, Louis J. Pearlman, signed the group N' Sync to keep the teen profits rolling in if Backstreet ever burned out. The B-boys were enraged, and later sued Pearlman over their share of the profits. They settled out of court, but Richardson remains bitter. "We were his boys. This is a family thing, and then to turn around and duplicate us.... It hurt our feelings. I probably had a closer relationship with Mr. Pearlman than anybody, because I lost my father a while back, when I was 19. And I learned a lot from him. But the relationship will never be the same, because I felt he was dishonest with us in so many ways. It's sad."
"I'm sorry that things might have gone astray in the minds of The Boys, as we were developing N' Sync," says Pearlman in response. "However, I'm happy that I'm still the sixth Backstreet Boy and that I still share in the success of The Backstreet Boys. It's like a dysfunctional family. It's hard when a father tries to give equal attention to all his children."
But besides "family" turmoil, The Boys have a bigger battle ahead of them: the ongoing campaign to gain respect.
"I've been playing the piano since I was 9 years old," Richardson says. "I have some talent. I'm not just a puppet. That's what I want people to know. We're not just five guys who are told to do this and do that. We come up with ideas for our videos and live shows. We work hard. We're trying to make quality."
At least 8 million screaming girls think they've achieved that already.
New York Daily
