TV Review: Boybands Forever

“Fame, fame, fatal fame”, The Smiths once sang, “It can play hideous tricks on the brain”. They weren’t wrong- fame can indeed be a poisoned chalice. Louis Theroux and Nancy Strang’s excellent three -part documentary series about the boyband phenomenon of the nineties and early noughties explores the highs; lows, scandals, meltdowns and exploitation bubbling under the surface of their global hits.

With access to those at the heart of it all, this is a thorough, well crafted investigation, and it gets dark extremely quickly. It’s not just double denim, curtains and naff dance routines. From Robbie Williams to Ritchie Neville, all the singers interviewed share stories of burnout, inter -band rivalry, and unscrupulous managers who were out to make a fast buck with no duty of care, even when band members needed to attend family funerals, or were suffering food poisoning.

The model was always similar: find a young lad with a big voice, drill choreography and songs into them for hours, get a stylist in to dress them and -presto!- instant celebrity. Simon Cowell had Take That; Louis Walsh Westlife, and zero fucks on the toll it took on the mental health of these kids, some of whom were just sixteen – eighteen years old, and fresh out of school.

The managers are unashamed in their remit. Tom Watkins, who managed East 17, was famously hubristic, buying his boyfriend a massive house, while short-changing his acts.Daniel Glatman, who managed Blue, seemed to buck the trend more and comes across on the footage as fairer. But leave it to Cowell, with his characteristic demonic smirk, who justifies it all by simply stating: “If you don’t like it, become an accountant” .

Tell that to a visibly shaken Scott Robinson from so-called “bad boys” 5ive, who today seems a broken man. He’s unequivocal in his appraisal of his time in the band. ‘ I was told I couldn’t leave”, he states bluntly, and recounts that he nearly kicked the crap out of a record company executive, having pinned him to the wall. 5ive are but one example of how the bands were set up to line the coffers of music industry bods, as with peers 911, selling a dream to the youth market that lasted as long as a teen’s pocket money.

Of course, Take That were a more successful proposition, with a gifted songwriter in the form of one Gary Barlow, but even they weren’t an instant hit. Witness an early video of the band, naked but for jelly on their derrieres, a cringe – making effort at shock tactics which didn’t ignite. The band, as well as rivals East 17, were marketed as the poppier version of Blur v Oasis; the clean-cut boys with sing along choruses, against the rougher lads and pseudo -urban songs. And the latter were pilloried by the tabloids for bad behaviour and outspoken stances on drugs, particularly lead singer Brian Harvey, who remains furious and bitter at his mistreatment by management and press alike, smashing gold discs into a bin in one clip. He’s had his share of demons, battling drugs, alcohol and nearly dying in a car accident. Let’s hope he finds peace of mind: the industry nearly destroyed him.

Overworking was but one problem. Gay band members like Boyzone’s Stephen Gately and Blue’s Duncan James were expected to keep schtum about their sexuality; and Damage were ridiculously informed that “Black bands don’t sell magazines” . A tight control over image was expected at all times, can’t offend the bigots. Hard to believe this was happening as recently as the mid- nineties.

If there’s one positive takeaway from the documentary, it’s that (E -17 aside) these boybands transition to manbands seamlessly: subsequent comeback tours have meant the bands clawed back profits and did the work on their own terms- witness a recent clip of Take That pastiching their early career by dancing like blank-eyed automatons. Like Pinocchio, it seems, boybands can, with the benefit of hindsight, self-actualise and avenge the masters. Just don’t suggest that to poor Brian Harvey.

Above all though, what sets this film apart from lesser music documentaries is that it’s a brilliant time capsule of an era before the dominance of social media and the depletion of attention spans. And if you’ve read so far, thanks. I admire your patience – even more than Take That’s.

Available to watch on i Player