Post by shayne on Jan 7, 2010 17:27:45 GMT 8
Oh dear, was it something I said? Why else would Westlife heart-throb Kian Egan be rolling up his trouser leg and flashing a tattooed calf in my direction?
"Look, this is Buddha! Is that cool enough for you? I've got a palm tree and waves and a Hawaiian flower on the other one. What have you got to say about that?"
Across the room, baby-faced Nicky Byrne is keen to fight his corner: "I've got a Hummer golf buggy—and I don't even play golf! How much more rock-and-roll can you get?"
Even Shane Filan is joining the fray, announcing with perfect deadpan timing that he has "a big, fat house, way, way bigger than anything Bob Geldof's got. Two fat houses, in fact."
Then Mark Feehily reminds him he's also got a helicopter. Filan laughs aloud: "There you go, I'm so crazy and cool that I'd forgotten I have my own helicopter. Who says we're boring now?"
I have come to talk about Westlife's glittering 11-year career, their new album, Where We Are, and their much-vaunted musical edginess, acquired after a year off. Having jettisoned safe cover versions, their latest CD is sumptuously arranged by producers in the United States, and oozing with class.
Their anthemic single 'What About Now' is riding high in the charts, they've had a sexy makeover, and they performed for Barack Obama at the Nobel Peace Awards. There's a lot to talk about, but they are howling in baffled frustration about why Westlife Just Aren't Considered Cool.
And it's my fault, by starting our chat with a mischievous remark about their bland reputation and how one critic said Westlife "were so anodyne as to make Boyzone look like Led Zeppelin at their most orgiastic".
I had expected a smart-arse quip in response, maybe a tongue-in-cheek defence of those infamous Val Doonican stools they perch on to croon. Instead, I have unleashed a torrent of mock abuse.
"Honestly, we're not dull," protests Byrne (31). "Barack Obama said he'd love to go for a pint of Guinness with us some time. Just because we're fit and healthy and don't look like drug addicts, doesn't make us uncool. It makes us normal."
In truth, Westlife are extraordinary. They are the biggest-selling act of the decade. They've notched up 14 UK number-one singles, 10 number-one albums, sold more than 40 million records worldwide and, having survived the loss of band member Brian McFadden in 2004, made the transition from boy band to male vocalist group, taking their legions of fans with them.
The lads have got married, had babies, acquired trophy golf buggies and tucked away millions in shrewd investments, but at some level that's not enough. It clearly stings when commentators take side swipes at their squeaky-clean image and the sainted Bob Geldof will never be forgiven for dismissing them as "not relevant".
"I think that was pretty rich given he only started his international campaigning when he realised the Boomtown Rats weren't relevant any more," remarks Egan (29) acidly.
Feehily, also 29, interjects that, while they all acknowledge Geldof's "amazing achievements", it doesn't give the former singer carte blanche to slag them off for the sake of a headline.
"Bob Geldof didn't include us on the Band Aid II single, even though we were the biggest band at the time," says Byrne. "He could have made even more money for charity by having us sing, but he chose Busted and Sugababes because he was on some sort of elitist power trip."
This all sounds so raw you'd think it happened yesterday, not in 2004, which does seem a long time to nurse a slight. "Excuse us if we get defensive, but this 'cool' thing is a sideshow that distracts from our music," says Feehily.
"We don't claim to be anything other than good singers, and to dismiss us because we might not be to some rock critic's taste is to insult the millions of people who buy our records and enjoy what we do."
The band concede that the quality of their output was suffering as their record label—take a bow, Simon Cowell—sought to exploit their Midas touch by serving up skiploads of base metal to be transmuted into chart gold.
"We felt that we were becoming cover-heavy, and no matter what we released it was a success, which was fine for the record company, but we wanted to record amazing pop songs," says Filan (30).
"Having made nine albums in as many years, we decided we should take a break." Egan lost his father to cancer in the summer, and Byrne is also mourning for his father who died last month.
All have been shaken by the death of Boyzone's Stephen Gately, the first such tragedy to be experienced by the boy-band generation. Feehily, who is gay and in a five-year relationship, credits Gately as a major inspiration.
'Stephen was extremely brave," says Feehily. "Every time a celebrity who is admired by millions of people comes out, it's one more blow to any negative stereotype out there."
Beneath the occasionally prickly banter about their image, Westlife make for a likeable bunch and seem genuinely comfortable in their own skins. All have homes (big fat ones) in Ireland, and their loyalty to each other runs deep.
"Being here 11 years into our career is a massive achievement and sustaining our success is now the challenge," says Byrne. "We had a goal to make Where We Are the best pop album we could, not just turn up, sing what the label put in front of us and pick up the cheque."
When I tell them I've been singing along to their album on the school run, they look dismayed as I am evidently the epitome of uncool. But then Byrne remembers that Bono once got out of his car on the school run and stood on the bonnet, belting out 'Flying Without Wings' to embarrass his children. This cheers them up tremendously, as Bono is just about as hip as it gets.
"We've had an amazing time, travelling the world, singing songs we love, meeting the fans and becoming financially secure," says Filan. "If our only problem is that we're not deemed cool enough, well I think we can live with that."
Credit/source: Irish Independent
www.independent.ie/lifestyle/who-says-were-not-cool-1992388.html
"Look, this is Buddha! Is that cool enough for you? I've got a palm tree and waves and a Hawaiian flower on the other one. What have you got to say about that?"
Across the room, baby-faced Nicky Byrne is keen to fight his corner: "I've got a Hummer golf buggy—and I don't even play golf! How much more rock-and-roll can you get?"
Even Shane Filan is joining the fray, announcing with perfect deadpan timing that he has "a big, fat house, way, way bigger than anything Bob Geldof's got. Two fat houses, in fact."
Then Mark Feehily reminds him he's also got a helicopter. Filan laughs aloud: "There you go, I'm so crazy and cool that I'd forgotten I have my own helicopter. Who says we're boring now?"
I have come to talk about Westlife's glittering 11-year career, their new album, Where We Are, and their much-vaunted musical edginess, acquired after a year off. Having jettisoned safe cover versions, their latest CD is sumptuously arranged by producers in the United States, and oozing with class.
Their anthemic single 'What About Now' is riding high in the charts, they've had a sexy makeover, and they performed for Barack Obama at the Nobel Peace Awards. There's a lot to talk about, but they are howling in baffled frustration about why Westlife Just Aren't Considered Cool.
And it's my fault, by starting our chat with a mischievous remark about their bland reputation and how one critic said Westlife "were so anodyne as to make Boyzone look like Led Zeppelin at their most orgiastic".
I had expected a smart-arse quip in response, maybe a tongue-in-cheek defence of those infamous Val Doonican stools they perch on to croon. Instead, I have unleashed a torrent of mock abuse.
"Honestly, we're not dull," protests Byrne (31). "Barack Obama said he'd love to go for a pint of Guinness with us some time. Just because we're fit and healthy and don't look like drug addicts, doesn't make us uncool. It makes us normal."
In truth, Westlife are extraordinary. They are the biggest-selling act of the decade. They've notched up 14 UK number-one singles, 10 number-one albums, sold more than 40 million records worldwide and, having survived the loss of band member Brian McFadden in 2004, made the transition from boy band to male vocalist group, taking their legions of fans with them.
The lads have got married, had babies, acquired trophy golf buggies and tucked away millions in shrewd investments, but at some level that's not enough. It clearly stings when commentators take side swipes at their squeaky-clean image and the sainted Bob Geldof will never be forgiven for dismissing them as "not relevant".
"I think that was pretty rich given he only started his international campaigning when he realised the Boomtown Rats weren't relevant any more," remarks Egan (29) acidly.
Feehily, also 29, interjects that, while they all acknowledge Geldof's "amazing achievements", it doesn't give the former singer carte blanche to slag them off for the sake of a headline.
"Bob Geldof didn't include us on the Band Aid II single, even though we were the biggest band at the time," says Byrne. "He could have made even more money for charity by having us sing, but he chose Busted and Sugababes because he was on some sort of elitist power trip."
This all sounds so raw you'd think it happened yesterday, not in 2004, which does seem a long time to nurse a slight. "Excuse us if we get defensive, but this 'cool' thing is a sideshow that distracts from our music," says Feehily.
"We don't claim to be anything other than good singers, and to dismiss us because we might not be to some rock critic's taste is to insult the millions of people who buy our records and enjoy what we do."
The band concede that the quality of their output was suffering as their record label—take a bow, Simon Cowell—sought to exploit their Midas touch by serving up skiploads of base metal to be transmuted into chart gold.
"We felt that we were becoming cover-heavy, and no matter what we released it was a success, which was fine for the record company, but we wanted to record amazing pop songs," says Filan (30).
"Having made nine albums in as many years, we decided we should take a break." Egan lost his father to cancer in the summer, and Byrne is also mourning for his father who died last month.
All have been shaken by the death of Boyzone's Stephen Gately, the first such tragedy to be experienced by the boy-band generation. Feehily, who is gay and in a five-year relationship, credits Gately as a major inspiration.
'Stephen was extremely brave," says Feehily. "Every time a celebrity who is admired by millions of people comes out, it's one more blow to any negative stereotype out there."
Beneath the occasionally prickly banter about their image, Westlife make for a likeable bunch and seem genuinely comfortable in their own skins. All have homes (big fat ones) in Ireland, and their loyalty to each other runs deep.
"Being here 11 years into our career is a massive achievement and sustaining our success is now the challenge," says Byrne. "We had a goal to make Where We Are the best pop album we could, not just turn up, sing what the label put in front of us and pick up the cheque."
When I tell them I've been singing along to their album on the school run, they look dismayed as I am evidently the epitome of uncool. But then Byrne remembers that Bono once got out of his car on the school run and stood on the bonnet, belting out 'Flying Without Wings' to embarrass his children. This cheers them up tremendously, as Bono is just about as hip as it gets.
"We've had an amazing time, travelling the world, singing songs we love, meeting the fans and becoming financially secure," says Filan. "If our only problem is that we're not deemed cool enough, well I think we can live with that."
Credit/source: Irish Independent
www.independent.ie/lifestyle/who-says-were-not-cool-1992388.html