Go West, Young Men
With new moves and dos, the
chart-topping Irish fivesome Westlife has its sights set on
new horizons
By
JEFF CHU London
After five
nights of concerts at London's Wembley Arena, the office of
Westlife tour manager Anto Byrne looks like a thrift shop,
with piles of gifts from stuffed animals to underwear: boxers,
briefs, Calvin Kleins, a pair that says "BABE MAGNET." Enough,
says Byrne, so that "none of us ever have to buy it ourselves."
In less
than three years, the Westlife guys-Nicky Byrne, 22, Shane
Filan, 21, Kian Egan, Mark Feehily and Bryan McFadden, all
20-have become fixtures atop the charts and on girls' bedroom
walls from Slovenia to Singapore. Guinness World Records 2001
lists the Irish fivesome as the only group to have had its
first seven singles enter the British charts at No. 1. But
Westlife's squeaky-clean look and ballad-driven charms haven't
worked everywhere. "We may be the biggest band in some parts
of the world, but we want to make [hit] records for Germany
and America as well," says Westlife manager Louis Walsh.
What to
do? Some clues are in their Coast to Coast tour, now wending
its way through the U.K. and Ireland before heading to northern
Europe, the Middle East, Asia and South Africa. First, Westlife
has ditched its sedentary ways. In the past, the five would
perch for a verse or two of each song on stools before springing
up in a burst of key-change energy. "You can understand why
five big lumps sitting on stools was perceived not to cut
it," says Alex Needham, an editor at the music magazine NME.
The big
question is whether stylistic tweaks will. The guys have added
dance moves, promised more up-tempo songs, and redone their
hair. But is that enough to propel Westlife into the global
pop pantheon alongside the Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync, the
cream of the teenybop crop?
When Westlife
did a U.S. promotional tour last year, their record company,
Arista, "tried to break us as an Irish Backstreet Boys or
an Irish 'N Sync," says Byrne. "It wasn't right for what we
are." Which is? "A ballad band" that can mix it up musically
with racier songs like their forthcoming single, When You're
Looking Like That.
Famous nonfans-from
Spice Girl Mel C to Damon Albarn of the band Blur-have slammed
Westlife for everything from not writing their own songs to
being pawns in a giant game of pop marketing. To be fair,
the group isn't pure manufactured pop. Feehily, Filan and
Egan are old friends who shared a classic teenage band experience,
singing covers and dreaming of stardom together in their hometown
of Sligo. (Byrne and McFadden won their spots in auditions.)
But given the hostility within the industry, "I wouldn't blame
the general public for not taking us seriously," says Feehily.
"The things some pop acts use to promote themselves are anything
but talent."
Westlife
believes it has the talent, even if that's not always enough.
Pop music these days depends as much on hype as harmony. Of
their current transatlantic push, says Filan, "We just have
to get to every corner of America, keep promoting ourselves
and do TV over and over."
The group
is gambling that British audiences will stay loyal, a brave
bet considering the fickle nature of its largely teen and
pre-teen following. Warns Karina Brandt, founder of the Westlife
Fans United club: "Being a fan means being in love. The spark
needs nourishment to be kept alive." Which isn't easy to do
from the other side of an ocean. Westlife's edgier "new" look
may also disappoint those who think of the guys as the sweet,
identically dressed boys next door. That image "isn't very
accurate, to be honest," says Egan. By all accounts, the guys
have a wilder side and enjoy their late nights out. As for
the wardrobe, when the group started out, stylists told them
what to wear. Now, says Egan, "it's gotten to the stage where
I'll say, ŒI'm going to wear what's me.' It's as simple as
that."
Cracking
new markets isn't quite as easy as declaring stylistic independence.
Perhaps it's some comfort then that Westlife fans are as generous
with thoughtful advice as they are with underwear. Take Ashley
Laurie, a 14-year-old who was at all five of the Wembley shows
in March. If you ask her, and even if you don't, she'll tell
you what Westlife has to do: Get rid of the leggy, female
backup dancers. "They're poo!" she declares. "But if they
need a replacement, my last name's L-A-U-R-I-E and my phone
number is ..." Got that, guys?
-With reporting
by Jumana Farouky and Hugh Porter/London
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May 7, 2001 | No. 18
COVER
STORIES
Haunted
by Vietnam
Former U.S. Senator Bob Kerrey confesses under pressure to killing more
than a dozen innocents in 1969. In his sadness, shame and decades-long
silence, fellow vets see themselves-and the rest of America confronts
war's wrenching ambiguity
TRAVELER'S
ADVISORY
SOUTH
PACIFIC
PAPUA NEW GUINEA: Murder in the Dark...
The still potent fear of sorcery is leading to vigilante killings
THE
ARTS
ART: Andrew Sayers reframes Australia's
view of itself...
THEATRE:
The RSC takes on Shakespeare's histories..
BOOKS: Inside the domestic interior of
Vermeer
MUSIC: Irish boy band Westlife goes transatlantic
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