N Sync: Today's heartthrobs
By Craig Marine
EXAMINER STAFF CRITIC
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BERKELEY — Seriously now, how is a person supposed to write a review of the 'N Sync concert Sunday night at the Berkeley Community Theatre? If you feel like you're some sort of music critic, you're going to end up pretending you were listening to the singing and the double keyboards and the goofy-ass dancing that make a Caucasian ashamed for his race. If you treat it like a cultural phenomenon, replete with stories of the unabashed joy of shrieking pre-pubescent females in the presence of their stunned parents, you can lose your credibility as a critic.
Luckily, there is really no dilemma here. Having no credibility to lose creates a tremendous amount of freedom, so in the interests of all those scrapbooks out there, let's just say that the boys — Lance, JC, Joey, Chris and Justin — sent the fans home short of voice, devoid of tears and in time for school on Monday. If the 49ers had delivered as much for their fans on Saturday, they would have beaten the Falcons 135-0.
This is not to say the guys have any talent. In fact, it is to say they don't. They can't sing, their so-called "moves" are to cringe for, and their baggy jeans look way too new. But they bring the goods and in the entertainment business, maybe it's all about bang for the buck.
The good thing about 'N Sync is that they truly seem to understand their audience. They played shamelessly to the crowd, with every favorite Sync or 'N or whatever getting plenty of time in the spotlight to collect gifts thrown from the crowd and shake his hips in the faces of the front row. Their disco-flavored tunes, mixed with the occasional syrupy ballad, were harmless enough, unless the listener actually had a love of music.
This is a cultural thing with a longstanding history. Every generation needs its vapid teen idols, from David Cassidy to "Kookie" Burns before him to whatever the hell else was before that, but it's too late to call my Mom. 'N Sync makes people happy. The main irritation with 'N Sync, besides that dumb name, is that, unlike the other prepackaged, made-for-video creation, the Spice Girls, they project an air of actually believing they have skills. That is off-putting, which is one of those words that is off-putting.
To their credit, at least the quintet had a live band with them, which is more than a lot of rappers have these days. On the other hand, maybe prerecorded music might have gone over better than the muddied, synthesizer-heavy, soulless sound the band created. But no one wanted to see the band anyway, which was a good thing since they were barely in the spotlight except for when the band needed to fill time for an 'N Sync costume change. And change they did, allowing for every teenie fantasy imaginable. You had the soulful, black topcoat look over the blue satin shirt with pants, OK? Or the library geek look, with sweater vests over button-down shirts and eyeglasses. And the most phony look of all: the street smart, ain't we tough, we're so bad even if we wouldn't last 20 seconds if we walked out of the auditorium look. Scary Spice could kick all of these wimps' tight little butts and still have energy left over to give birth. So what did they play? Every hit off their self-titled album, which is a good thing because it's their only album and who knows what kind of schlock they might have come up with on their own? But no one could hear the singing anyway, since it was a love and scream fest. These guys could have walked out there and read their bank statements for all anyone really cared, as long as they gave a few choice, semi-innocent pelvic thrusts and blew the requisite amount of kisses to the crowd. And that's entertainment, so who's to knock it?
