NO NEW SONGS, NKOTB.

WHY, NKOTB!? WHY?!?

You know, I was seriously thinking about trying to see them play on tour this summer. I was going to call up my sister, see if she can leave the kid with my bro-in-law for an evening, and whisk her away for an experience we never got to live out as children- seeing New Kids On The Block in person. She'd probably say no anyway- she is a much more pragmatic, mature Donnie Wahlberg-type of a girl, while I was in love with doe-eyed Joey McIntyre- but it was going to be worth a try. Obviously seeing them now is not gonna be nearly as awesome as it would have been when I was nine, but I can't lie- I still get these weird, pre-pubescent fluttery feelings in my tummy when I see Joey Mac and his stupid hat with no top in their "Hangin' Tough" fake concert footage.

Either way, I felt like it was worth a shot... until I heard there was new material. And then I realized it would be a serious waste of a lot of money once I heard the first song. Why, for the love of God, are they in the studio making new songs? Here's a big, obvious hint, New Kids: nobody wants to hear the new songs. For that matter, we never even cared all that much about the songs themselves in the first place. It was all about the unbuttoned vests over t-shirts, the rat tails and the floppy haircuts, the baggy pleated pants, the muscles (or, in my favorite New Kid's case, the severe lack thereof), the frenetic dancing and the choreographed finger-pointing. It was about impressing into my long-term memory that Joey's favorite female singer is Anita Baker, and that his favorite beverage is water with a twist of lemon. Basically, it was all about obsessing on something seriously idealized and, honestly, fucking bizarre. While this is certainly a reunion I've eagerly anticipated throughout my adult life, this isn't a freaking Smiths reunion we're talking about here. Former Blockheads are not going to this show to see where Danny Wood is at artistically these days. We're going so we can start squealing like we're eleven year olds again and feel no shame about it. And, honestly, we're going so we can gawk a little.

Maybe I'll go to their Boston concert, but probably not. There's something to be said for seeing them perform in their hometown, but eh. I mean, eventually I'll stop into some store on Centre Street and run into Joey picking up a carton of milk like everyone else in JP has, and that will be enough for me. I'll be sorry that I'm wearing frumpy clothes and look like a hot mess, but I'll get to fulfill a childhood dream come true. For now I'll just comfort myself by remembering the time that I pushed a stroller past Joey's childhood home on Orchard Street, and a man standing outside who looked a hell of a lot like an elderly version of Joey Mac started singing a Frank Sinatra song to my todder friend and me. The first thing I thought was, "Hey, I remember, Frank Sinatra is Joey's favorite musician of all time."