Yesterday the Herald�s Lauren Carter washed-out the day with tween band maven the Jonas Brothers. First they gave a press conference, so they toured Boston on a duck boat in front heading turned to headline last night�s show at the Comcast Center in Mansfield. Here�s what happened.
Today I�ll be living the dream - the dream of a Jonas Brothers fan, that is. Starting at midday, I�ll be spending the day with Nick, 15, Joe, 18, and Kevin, 20, as they make the rounds in Boston before their concert. I�m not sure what�s involved beyond a press group discussion at a swank hotel, a ride on a duck gravy boat, backstage entree at the venue and hordes of screaming girls. I�m speculative: Will on that point be bodyguards present as we chill with the trio?
The iron out conference
The boys greeted the media just after high noon, looking casually hip in skinny jeans and T-shirts. They talked about their long drive from Baltimore on Wednesday, wanting to be �a positive light in the world� and the �crazy ideas� - pyrotechnics, lifts and the like - they�re incorporating into this tour in support of their new CD, �A Little Bit Longer,� which drops Tuesday.
Oh, yeah: They love to play golf game, but don�t love waking up at 7:30 a.m. to do it. They�d like to get into more writing and producing, which they�ve started to do for Disney isaac M. Singer Demi Lovato, the opener on their tour. And they�re still, as eldest brother Kevin says, �kind of aghast every day� by the level of fame they�ve achieved.
The frenzy
No mobs of teenage girls followed as we toured Boston on the Duck Boats, only a minifrenzy did flare outside the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Girls are screaming �Oh! My! God!,� snapping pictures and clamouring for autographs, which the brothers promptly provide.
The Duck Tour
I learned more around Boston than I did about the brothers: The boys were seated in a backside VIP section with their band. Their 7--year-old brother, Frankie (a budding star topology in his own right; he already has his own band, Hollywood Shakeup), got to drive. Yes, there was a bodyguard. He was exactly as I pictured him: bald-headed, massive and intimidating. Understandable. But even being allowed this far inside the Jonas reality still leaves me feeling like an outsider. It would be cool to have a conversation with one of the brothers that didn�t involve a spotlight and a microphone.
Duck boat hitch over, we�re now headed to the venue - no, non on the tour busbar with the boys, just in a press vanguard following close behind. The plan: some words from the boy�s dad, Kevin Jonas Sr., and perhaps more face time with the bros before the show.
The main event
I didn�t get to talk with Kevin Sr. once we made it to Comcast. I did, however, look on the boys tape a Burger King commercial, and later, chat with about 300 uber-excited fans at a meet-and-greet.
Once the three took the stage, the ultra-deafening screams set in (as opposed to the deafening screams earlier). Not that the brothers weren�t rolling heavy on past tours, simply they take a few new tricks up their sleeves this time around: a string section, lasers, pyrotechnics, multiple lifts and foam guns.
The flaming, string-heavy entrance for opener �That�s Just the Way We Roll� seemed a bit epic for a tween pop-rock show. Nevertheless, the boys and their backup outfit chugged easily through hits off their first two albums as advantageously as the forthcoming third disc, �A Little Bit Longer,� including �Goodnight and Goodbye,� the always sport �Year 3000� and �Burnin� Up.�
Having worked their way up from half-empty clubs to sold-out arenas, each JoBro has had the chance to carve extinct his have niche. Young Nick is the solemn hard worker, too fussy multitasking to smile, Kevin is the carefree spirit who inactive gets the job done, while Joe is the feathery-haired rock star wHO struts around the stage and sings, shakes a tambourine and avoids touch outstretched custody, though he did bring a tiddler onstage to sing the end of �Gotta Find You.�
The Jonas aesthetic is still estimable clean playfulness, but sometimes it merely feels as if there�s a little too much squeak involved, as if every movement is well-timed rather than genuine.
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