Majorly Spiralling (Oooh!)

A year and a half ago, I fell hard for these broody Brits who clothed their sexy disillusionment in bouncy, anthemic orchestrations. I mean, really, what red-blooded, tragic young woman could resist such sensitive, arty babes -- uh, boys -- compelling her to head-bob along with them as, over and over, their hearts all broke together in perfect harmony?

(Not to mention those white belts and that hair tossing . . . )

Not this one. No, sir-ee.

So, since the moment they announced they were working on a new album, that things were better than ever between them and they were having the time of their lives, I have dreaded the release of their third album, "Perfect Symmetry." Not that I don't want them to be happy without me -- I absolutely do! But couldn't their music stay miserable?

Well, you can imagine my horrified delight when I got a load of the first track on P.S., which all the reviews are calling "sassy," "disco-rockin'" and "Bowie-esque."

AND I LOVED IT! I loved every "Ooooh!"

So, enjoy. If you find yourself downloading and listening to it to the exclusion of all other worthy tunes, let's chat.

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

~By Stevie Smith~

We'll Be Loving You (Forever), NKOTB

That was then . . .

This is now . . . (!!!)

Some of you are familiar with my penchant for fandemonium in general, which is why I wanted to share an email I sent last week to some good friends who knew me at the height of a particularly intense period of fandom. (Does anyone else remember the poster, featuring my dreamboats posed atop a ladder, which spanned the entire length and width of my bedroom door?) Good times.

Dear (picture your name here),

I was belly laughing this morning on my way to work. Two radio stations I switch back and forth between during my morning drive were taking calls about the two New Kids on the Block concerts that took place here this weekend (you know the Kids are Boston natives, right?).

It was hilarious. All these women around my age (20s to early 40s) were calling in absolutely GUSHING about how great it was.

"Oh, my God! It was the BEST night of my life!"

"I sat in the __ row, and when they came into the audience, I could practically TOUCH them! EEEEEE! I almost fainted!"

"It was definitely the BEST concert I've EVER been to! They were absolutely a-MAZE-ing!!! I couldn't stop screaming and crying!"

"I love them so much!!!!! They're so hot!!!!!!"

"You should have seen the pregnant women trying to squeeze into their teenage New Kids T-shirts!"

"I wore a jean jacket COVERED with the pins I collected in the 90s!"

"All of the sudden I was 12 again!"

"I only have their cassettes, but I am going out TODAY to buy ALL of their music and an iPod!"

So many exclamation points. I kind of wish I had shelled out the cash to go. Apparently they sang ALL of the classics. Aaahhh, the memories.

One station even decided to play, "You Got It (the Right Stuff)," and all these women called in to thank them.

"Just hearing their songs makes my heart pound!"

"That's just what I needed to get me out of bed and excited about the day!"

Ah, je regret! I guess it might have been worth $60 to be that ridiculous again. (And to see other adult women--some much older and there with their DAUGHTERS--do the same.) Next time for SURE. But I won't be calling in to any radio stations--before or after.

--Mere