The streets surrounding Wembley Arena resemble a scene from the zombie film 28 Days Later. People – women, mostly – claw frenziedly at gates, at doors, at anything that looks as if it might give way and provide them access to the flesh they so desperately seek. How will I get through these carnivorous harridans and make it safely inside without being mauled half to death? The task at hand seems impossible.
Taking my life in my hands, I fight through the fists and wails of the baying mob and into the ugly concrete building to relative safety. Once inside, I am led to the inner sanctum: a dark, unattractive dressing room, containing lots of Haribo sweets, several gallons of hair product and, finally, JLS.
JLS (it stands for Jack the Lad Swing, should you care) are the X Factor losers who became, bar Leona Lewis, the show’s biggest winners. In 2008, they were runners-up to Alexandra Burke, a woman currently touring relatively small venues such as the Hammersmith Apollo. By contrast, JLS are on a national tour that includes the 20,000-seater O2 Arena in London.
The four-piece – Aston Merrygold, Marvin Humes, Jonathan Gill and Oritisé Williams – have just released their second album, Outta This World, their first having gone platinum several times. Their debut song, Beat Again, was the second-fastest-selling single of 2009. They have won two Mobos and two Brits, and have even been signed in America, with Jive records hoping their brand of poppy R&B might make them one of the few British bands to break the country.
They are the UK’s premier boyband (forget manbands such as Take That). There are even JLS condoms, which gives you an idea of their rather special, cross-generational appeal. Their cheeky chappy personae, the fact that they are four normal boys from Peterborough done good – despite losing The X Factor – have endeared them to the masses.
And yet, at first it is hard to see why the hundreds of ladies outside the arena have been driven to distraction by the four men who sit in front of me. They are, curiously, more plastic-looking than the dolls that have been made in their likeness. They wear low-cut V-neck tops that display the kind of perfectly toned chests I have only ever seen on Barbie’s boyfriend Ken; their hair is shaved into immaculate crew cuts previously sported only by Action Man dolls and David Miliband.
“We have our hair done once every four days,” says Marvin, matter-of-factly. “It’s important to look after yourself.”
JLS look tired, as well they might after several weeks back-flipping and crooning their way across the country (they are not the type of boyband to sit on stools, they say dismissively). And they look as if they would rather be playing Fifa 11 on their XBox, which has been plugged into a television that they have taken off the wall. “Rock and roll,” I say. “ You’ve torn the telly down!” No, they sigh, they just couldn’t get the XBox lead into the back of the TV.
For a while, it is a bit like interviewing a set of JLS dolls. When I ask about The X Factor, they talk in soundbites as well-rehearsed as their tour – they are endlessly thankful for the opportunity it gave them (Oritsé put the band together in 2006, scouting through friends and contacts); they are ever so grateful to Simon Cowell; they are good chums with Miss Burke and many of the other contestants, both from their year and years since.
Well, this is all a bit of a worry: just three years in, are they already disillusioned and complacent about the industry? “Sorry,” croaks Aston, who is so teeny-tiny you want to put him in your pocket. “We’re just exhausted.”
And this is where things improve. When I ask them what it’s like being in JLS, Aston, eyes now as wide as saucers, says: “Imagine your bus.” I say that I don’t have a bus. “Exactly!” beam the others.
“Imagine you have a bus with loads of beds, and an XBox!” chips in Oritsé. “And a naked girl runs on to your bus on your birthday!”
Crikey, I say, as he explains to me that this happened to him just the other week.
“And you get on a bus, after you’ve done a gig to thousands of screaming girls, and when you get off at the hotel, there are more girls waiting who practically tear your clothes off!” Aston is almost hyperventilating now with excitement; the phrase “kid in a candy shop” springs to mind.
“And then you go to a club, and they’ve closed off the whole VIP section for you,” grins Marvin, “and even the waitresses are beautiful.” “And you go out until like six in the morning,” continues Aston, “or four if we’ve got to work the next day.” And, adds Jonathan, he is going on holiday to Antigua. “Would you like to come with me?”
It’s tempting, actually. Later, as they open their show in a car that zooms out over the heads of the audience, I can see why all the ladies love JLS. In the words of Simon Cowell, they give it 110 per cent; they are professional flirts, oozing charisma with every hip-thrust and back-flip.
And I am only a tiny bit embarrassed to say that I leave Wembley Arena as many others have entered: a grown woman infected by JLS.
JLS are touring the UK until Jan 29. Details: www.jlsofficial.com
Buy JLS
Tickets from Telegraph
Tickets
