Last night marked my first trip to the "new" House of Blues in Boston, MA to see none other than Jesse McCartney (and about 2000 screaming fangirls). Placed at the old location of the Avalon nightclub on Lansdowne Street, A and I were sorely disappointed upon walking in. While I cannot speak for the restaurant portion of the building, there have been little to no renovations of the stage area past some paint and new pictures hanging on the wall. I downed my overpriced Corona ($7 my ass) and pushed my way through the waves of sixteen year olds to get close to the front. Standing, waiting for the main act to go on, made me reminisce and miss the old Avalon nightclub - a location that stood when the rest of the audience around me were watching Barney & Friends on television and drinking Motts apple juice. But I digress.
In this review, I want to make one thing clear. Jesse McCartney is not Justin Timberlake. He never will be, no matter how many remixes he has with Ludacris featured on them. He is not, was not, will not be as huge, because my generation of fangirls will never let that happen. Nonetheless, the 21 year old McCartney (who still appears to be 14) brought on the screams -- and the pushes and the shoves -- from girls all over Boston.
I give him credit for putting on a good show. While A and I couldn't withhold the pushing and shoving up in the front for the whole show (we ditched with a few songs left), we left impressed with McCartney's singing -- and songwriting -- skills. He sang 100% live. His songs sounded just as good onstage as off. The songs were catchy as hell. His stage presence wasn't too shabby. Still, the whole experience makes me pine for the pop stars of yesteryear. Excuse me while I go pop in an old *NSync cd.
-M
