Take That, take 2

The members of Take That: from left, Jason Orange, Gary Barlow, Howard Donald and Mark Owen.

A couple of weeks ago, Take That’s Patience captured Best Single at the Brit Awards. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m not trying to be a killjoy; it’s just that it contravened the laws of boy bands — they’re not supposed to have a second bash at success.

Take That began as the brainstorm of a Mancunian named Nigel Martin-Smith. Gazing at the British pop charts in 1990, he decided they were wanting for a homegrown act. So he went out and conscripted five musical teens: Gary Barlow, Howard Donald, Jason Orange, Mark Owen and Robbie Williams. Martin-Smith’s instincts were spot on: combining peppy dance pop (Could It Be Magic, Relight My Fire, Pray) and earnest ballads (A Million Love Songs, Back for Good), Take That went on to sell 19 million albums. But by mid-decade, Williams wanted out.

Williams, of course, went on to monolithic success as a solo artist (70 million albums sold and counting). On his own, Barlow churned out a few hits himself. Owen released an album few people heard, while the other two members busied themselves with peripheral hobbies (deejaying, acting). At any rate, Take That was history.

Or maybe not. The first inkling of a reformation came in November 2005, when Take That released a greatest-hits compilation; days later, the band members (minus Robbie) appeared in a revealing television documentary exploring the group’s wild success and internal strife. The record-buying public was thus primed for a new album, Beautiful World, which was released this past November. Patience, the first single, reached No. 1 in the U.K. in its second week; after the first month, the album had sold 1.5 million copies. (Beautiful World was released in North America on March 6.)

One reason boy bands are unlikely to strike gold twice is that the concept is so contrived to begin with: an enterprising svengali rounds up a crew of sporty lads, oversees some basic choreography and singing lessons, and then markets the hell out of them. Though the music isn’t an afterthought, it hews closely to a formula — a blend of macho chants and brooding slow jams, silly posturing and saccharine sensitivity. Looking at outfits like Menudo, New Kids on the Block and ’NSync, their success always feels like a sneak attack: one minute, the music charts are seemingly placid; the next, it’s an onslaught of foppish hair and five-part harmonies.

From left, Kevin Richardson, Nick Carter, Brian Littrell, Howie Dorough and AJ McLean of the Backstreet Boys present an award at the 2005 American Music Awards in Los Angeles. (Kevin Winter/Getty Images)

The New Kids had a typical trajectory: in 1986, the band released its self-titled debut; in 1990, Forbes magazine reported that NKOTB were out-earning both Madonna and Michael Jackson; by 1992, their song If You Go Away peaked at a measly No. 16 on the charts; the band broke up in 1994. One of the reasons boy bands have a limited shelf life is that the young performers are exposed to a variety of toxins: fame, money, hormones, opportunistic elders, each other. In some cases, they crash, like A.J. McLean of Backstreet Boys, who in 2000 fell into a drink- and drug-abetted depression. Other times, they just turn weird — the video to Dirty Dawg (1994), the last charting single by New Kids on the Block, was so misogynistic, MuchMusic refused to air it.

In ’05, after a three-year lull, the Backstreet Boys released the album Never Gone, a title that advertised their desire for a second chance. More adult-contemporary than their previous records, the album has sold over three million copies worldwide, but failed to catch fire in North America. The single Just Want You to Know went Top 10 in Britain, but hit a ceiling in the U.S.: No. 70 on the Billboard Top 100 chart.

All of which makes Take That’s return so unusual; it’s especially impressive because the group has done it without its prolific exile, Robbie Williams. Beyond the single Back for Good, Take That has never enjoyed the same rabid following in North America as it has in Europe. While most North Americans now view the success of the New Kids or the Backstreet Boys as regrettable, Take That never lost the goodwill of the British public. Proof: Seven million TV viewers tuned in to watch the Take That documentary in 2005, a decade after the group disbanded. Music critic Alexis Petridis encapsulated the group’s continued popularity in London’s Guardian: “Among the reasons Take That are still regarded so fondly is that they embodied the appealing wonkiness of British pop.”

Much of the songwriting credit goes to Gary Barlow, that rare boy-bander with a legitimate creative spark — between Take That, a solo career and his freelance work for others, Barlow authored an astounding 16 No. 1 singles (U.K.) in the ’90s. Co-written with the band and a handful of stringers, Beautiful World upholds Take That’s standard (particularly with the title track, Reach Out and the second single, Shine). Beautiful World is not high art; but drawing on such acts as the Beatles, Elton John and the Bee Gees, the music is clever, self-aware, slightly theatrical — in other words, a good deal more sophisticated than U.S. counterparts like the Backstreet Boys or ’NSync. Whether Take That will enjoy the longevity of the Rolling Stones or David Bowie is a matter of conjecture — but for now, Barlow and the gang are the envy of their graduating class.

Beautiful World is on Universal Music and is in stores now.

Andre Mayer writes about the arts for CBC.ca.

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