Which came first, the songs or the scandal?
Source: The Toronto Star
Media always apply double standard to addict musicians
Ben Rayne
ENTERTAINMENT COLUMNIST
Alas, poor A.J.
Over the last few years, I've grown rather fond of the Backstreet Boys.
As much as their assembly-line pop and its attendant, big-budget sub-Chippendale's roadshow represent everything that I despise about the music industry - and Backstreet is nothing if not the product of an industry - I've always come away with the impression that these five Florida-reared, all-American meatheads genuinely believe that prancing around on stage in Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers outfits and singing syrupy love songs for 12-year-old girls every night really matters. However vacuous and unlistenable the Boys' music might be, there's something rather endearing about their stultifying earnestness, their growing fondness for sculpted facial hair and the delusions of artistry that are, slowly but surely, eating away at their enormous pubescent fan base. I can't wait 'til they enter their Maharishi phase.
Plus, I doubt any of the Backstreet Boys realize they share a name with a 1970s band fronted by famed punk-rock transsexual Jayne (previously Wayne) County. For some reason, that causes me no end of amusement.
Anyway, poor A.J.
Watching the fallout from Backstreet Boy A.J. McLean's decision to enter rehab for depression and alcoholism - perhaps the juiciest boy-band-related scandal since drunk and rowdy New Kid On The Block Donnie Wahlberg doused a hotel hallway with half a bottle of vodka and set it ablaze a decade ago - has been great sport.
It only creates a minor ripple whenever Ol' Dirty Bastard gets hustled off to rehab, but if a Backstreet Boy goes on an extended bender, the entire planet snaps to attention. Newscasts and newspapers devoted vast amounts of time and space to fans grappling with the revelations and expressing hope that A.J. would "get better" soon. Toronto's Kiss 92 FM, like numerous other media outlets, is currently giving concerned fans a chance to add their names and a few words of encouragement to a "Get well soon, A.J." E-card on the station's Web site (http://kiss92.fm) that will be forwarded to McLean.
A "Get sober soon" or "Cheer up, A.J.!" card would only be in marginally worse taste, but Kiss 92 is to be forgiven: They just don't know how to react.
We expect this sort of thing from the Ozzy Osbournes and Tommy Lees of the world, after all, but not from a purveyor of supposedly wholesome entertainment for young girls (and, I suppose, a number of gay men). Even if you're the "renegade" member with tattoos, funny hats and a working knowledge of hip-hop slang that every good boy band requires, your rebellion is expected to stick firmly within the realm of fashion. Drinking? Forget about it. You're not even supposed to curse or smoke.
A.J.'s problems still had an air of wholesomeness about them once they came out - his drinking and depression worsened, his bandmates said, after the death of his grandmother. But the tone of some news reports on the singer's status nevertheless reacted as though he'd been busted with a couple of underage prostitutes, his pants around his ankles, a blowtorch in one hand and a glass crack pipe in the other. How will parents feel about their children listening to the Backstreet Boys after these revelations, reporters wondered. How are fans coping with this "shocking" news? Is this the end of the Backstreet Boys?
Such is the media's strange relationship with stories of celebrity substance abuse.
On the one hand, everybody loves a good waste-case. We delight in recounting Liam Gallagher's boozy exploits and Scott Weiland's heroin- inflicted meltdowns. We dub Keith Richards one of the coolest men in rock'n'roll simply because he survived the '70s. We elevate overdose victims like Jim Morrison and Sid Vicious to demi-godhood. The enthusiastic drug consumption of U.K. bands like Placebo and Ash is, arguably, the only thing the press finds interesting about them. Ex-junkies are the top of the "cool" heap, especially in the music business, where artist biographies often spend more time detailing the various pills, powders and little paper tabs a musician has swallowed, snorted and injected over the years - and his or her "courageous" battle with addiction - than the actual music. We love hearing this stuff, either because we identify with the experiences ("Whoa, man, that happened to me on mescaline, too") or we want the tiny thrill of living vicariously through someone else's debauched adventures.
If you're not the type of celebrity who's supposed to dally with booze or drugs, though - or if you're Robert Downey, Jr. and your recreational chemical pursuits more or less become a full-time occupation - the media are just as apt to land on you like a pack of wolves, and you'll be vilified for the very same reasons you landed that "Hollywood bad boy" image in the first place. Can't be encouraging that sort of behaviour, after all.
There are plenty of non-celebrities with far worse problems, who can't afford to enter rehab unless they're ducking criminal charges, and that's not news. A.J. McLean's problems are real, but he's small potatoes.
Calm down. Life will go on.
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