Review Summary: The answer to my life.
Being a kid in the last days of a pre-9/11 world was a surreal experience. For me, the main portents consisted of Bill Clinton's blowjob-induced impeachment trial, being indignant because my classmate had a 1st edition Charizard and all I had was a measly Poliwrath, and of course; racing home after school to watch Carson Daly host a little show called
Total Request Live. The top ten most requested music videos of the day. And that wasn't even the main hook for me. I couldn't wait to see all the celebs make guest appearances; Britney Spears, Kid Rock (before he started shooting beer cans to avert being un-penised by the gay) and the boy bands. The f*cking
boy bands. *NSYNC were about as cool and dreamy, but the Backstreet Boys held my heart. Nick Carter could have hit me with his car and I'd have said "thank you" and asked for another. That's still true today tbh.
Backstreet was responsible for many of the most essential memories of my childhood. My family made the roughly 40 minute commute from Brookville to Times Square to see them on
TRL; we didn't get into the studio, but it was a fun trip. My mom bought me
Black and Blue on release day, and we even ventured to the nation's capital to see the Boys live on the album's accompanying tour. The album was and remains my absolute favorite work of theirs to date, capturing all their signature hallmarks in a way even other Backstreet albums of the era couldn't quite.
The album opens with the Latin pop-influenced "The Call." Would you believe Max Martin took a recording of Howie Dorough's flatuence and made it into the main backing beat? I didn't either, until Wikipedia told me what's what. Jokes aside, Dorough actually admitted to it years later in an interview, and the song itself is an absolute ride. AJ McLean takes the lead on this opening cut, which weaves a tale of damage control after an exposed act of infidelity. On the second verse, Carter laments how leading his woman on and losing her "eats" him up on the inside. For a song about deception and regret, it's a markedly fun and upbeat jaunt. Along with Kevin Richardson, Brian Littrell, usually the angelic front on most of the band's signature hits, offers equally vital backing harmonies on the chorus that give the passage life.
"Shape Of My Heart" is my favorite song of all time, without question. The Grammy-nominated piece of bubblegum pop mastery puts Littrell back in the driver's seat, as the group once again brushes with maturity and contrition, but in the context of a relationship that can still be salvaged. McLean shines on his second verse and late-song fills, but Carter steals the show on the bridge, and again on the outro. His voice soars amidst the final chorus and another one of Backstreet's brilliant key changes a la "I Want It That Way." In an ocean of classics and underappreciated gems, "Shape" is Backstreet's finest moment on record. Nothing they cut before or since has surpassed it.
On "Get Another Boyfriend, the boys oscillate back to courting new romance. The problem is, she's already got a man and you just know we can't have that. The song is so cheesy, those of us who lack toast and toddler ants will soon find themselves in the bathroom with Howie Dorough farting up a storm, but somehow it works. Maybe it's those appropriately placed R&B overtones, and Martin's tight production. Another artist or vocal group could have made this one a lot sleazier, but Backstreet still sells it with effortless charm. On the next overtly serious moment, the country-tinged "I Promise You", a vulnerable Littrell begs for intimacy he feels eludes too many, asking his woman "does anybody ever stay in love anymore?" Elsewhere, the group further bids for the hand of an unclaimed suitor on the stirring "More Than That" and the dizzying adult contemporary vibes of "Yes I Will" would have fit hand in glove with any of the band's hits of the 90s.
Revisiting this album affords it a pinch of nostalgia it wouldn't, nor couldn't, have garnered upon release. Backstreet ruled the Goddamn world for a good three years, and this was the last time they'd top the Billboard 200 for
19 years. Only 2005's
Never Gone rivals it in terms of being a commercial and artistic touchstone for the Backstreet Boys. I've remained an avid fan and enjoyed their later discography, but they were clearly swimming against the tide after the world had moved on from them.
Black and Blue was their last roar from atop the mountain; the fact they didn't know that yet makes it even more dramatic.
At 33 years old, I think about how far removed I am from the crazed tween that I was, how my life today pertains to raising the family that 10 yr old me thought she'd have with Nick Carter. I can't even cringe at my past self, though. I was innocent, naive, and just happy to crank up the boombox in my bedroom, and let this masterful 5-piece from Orlando take me away. I finally got to meet them before a show about ten years ago, and they were everything I'd hoped they be. As for music, I struggle finding things that strike a nerve with me the way the Boys did. Maybe it's because I silently yearn for the world I used to know. As a lifelong New Yorker, I'll always admire how we rallied when the towers fell, but I'll still far beyond that wish that world had never departed us. Then again, maybe it hasn't. We have the physical and spiritual remnants of it to carry forward with us, and for me, it's the Backstreet Boys and
Black and Blue in particular. This is my favorite album of all time. I guess as long as I fondly remember what was, and keep pressing ahead, the spirit of my inner child will never die. "Everything's gonna be alright. I promise you that."
