“We Were Kids in a Candy Store”

God created man. Man created music. And some men—priests, probably—created the all-boy choir, cute, hairless little fellas who sing like angels. That was the story until the 20th century, when Motown capo Berry Gordy realized the commercial power of an all-singing, all-dancing choir. And so the Jackson 5 were formed, who begat New Edition, who begat New Kids on the Block, who begat the term “boy band.”

Grunge temporarily forestalled the dominance of harmonizing hardbodies, but in the mid-1990s a new strain of Disney-suckled lads paved their own Chitlin’ Circuit—the shopping centers of Europe—and soon set their sight on the piggybanks of a swelling economic demographic: suburban ’tween girls. The first, and best, of this breed were five young men—Nick Carter, A.J. McLean, Howie Dorough, Kevin Richardson and Richardson’s cousin Brian Littrell—who called themselves the Backstreet Boys, in honor of a flea market in their hometown of Orlando, Florida.

After two years topping charts overseas, the Backstreet Boys conquered America, opening the floodgates for other still-virginal alumni of the Mickey Mouse Club and turning the end of the century into an estrogen-soaked pop apocalypse. Expertly aided by the best songwriters and producers Sweden had to offer, Backstreet, along with ’N Sync, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, made music as sublimely disposable as the Monkees or Abba. Naturally, they made millions and millions of dollars. Along the way, though, the five squeaky-clean heartthrobs suffered a painful and public divorce from the svengali who created them, brushes with death, drinking, drugging, DUIs, AA and a close encounter with Paris Hilton.

Now, with the release of Never Gone, their first LP since 2001, Backstreet’s back, alright! “I don’t know one person you could meet on the street, from a punk to a Metallica fan, who hasn’t heard of the Backstreet Boys,” says A.J. McLean. “They might not like us, but they know who we are.”

This is their story.

Louis J. Pearlman knew a thing or two about hot air. In the 1980s, he built the advertising blimps that used to fly around Florida, but his real passion was ignited when New Kids on the Block flew on one of the chartered private jets that were part of the multimillionaire’s Trans Continental Airlines. “I’m gonna get me one of those,” Pearlman told himself. And in 1992, he put an ad in the local entertainment trade papers announcing auditions for a pop group.

A.J. McLean: I was the first boy in the Backstreet Boys, in 1992. It was me, then Howie and Nick, and in 1993 Kevin and Brian showed up.

Howie Dorough: At the time I was using the stage name Tony Donetti, and a casting agent got me a private audition with Lou Pearlman at his house. There were gates and a Rolls in front and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. This was in August. December rolls around and I have a new agent who wants me to go on this audition, and I get there and it’s Lou again, and he says, “Tony! Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you!” After that I never used a stage name again.

Nick Carter: When I was 10, I did halftime shows at Tampa Bay Buccaneers games. I sang the national anthem and a really gay song, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”

Dorough: Originally the idea was that they were going to have seven people as an insurance policy in case someone got sick. Like, “Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, sitting in for Howie, it’s Joe Blow from down the street.” We had two guys, Sam [Licata] and Charles [Edwards] that I knew from college choir. Chris Kirkpatrick from ’N Sync was another tenor in the choir, and he would always ask me when he would get to audition.

Kevin Richardson: I was working at Disney World, playing Aladdin, Prince Eric, a Ninja Turtle, Sweetums from the Muppets, Sebastian the Crab. I never got bored. At night I worked at a dinner theater, so between the two I was doing pretty good.

Brian Littrell: Kevin worked at Capone’s, where he was this old pimpy actor who sang and danced and ate pasta. He had been a Backstreet Boy for maybe a month or two and they were looking for a fifth member. On April 19, 1993, this young girl came in from the school office and said I had a telephone call. It was Kevin, and the very next morning I flew from Kentucky to Orlando. My mom grabbed me by the neck and said, “Listen, son, you can get your feet wet, just don’t drown.”

Johnny Wright: (co-manager, 1993–1997; 2003–present) I was in Germany working with a group called Snap, and when I came home to Orlando, people were saying, “You’ve got to hear this group, they’re like New Kids.” Having managed New Kids, I said, “Been there, done that.” But I heard about the guy who was backing them; you couldn’t go anywhere in Florida without seeing his blimps, and after I saw a videotape of the Backstreet Boys performing at Sea World, I decided to meet them. I go to this restaurant and Lou is there, but no group. Then they come through the kitchen doors, singing a capella!

To read more about the Boys' fall from grace, pick up the new issue of Blender on newsstands now!