Maybe the nickname lad They are no longer age appropriate, but Westlife is still a group of boys capable of filling theaters 25 years after its debut. The Irish-born group, a natural replacement for phenomenon groups like Take That or Backstreet Boys in the early 2000s, returned to the stage to celebrate a quarter of a century as the “good guys of pop”. London’s illustrious Royal Albert Hall hosted the celebrated first concerts that Shane Filan, Nicky Byrne and Kian Egan – the fourth member, Mark Feehily, has declined to attend at this time due to ill health – will offer to commemorate the anniversary across Europe, as well as featuring previously unreleased songs and a new album.
The performers of hits like My love OR If I let you goalready halfway through the quarantine, they now take the stage dressed in tuxedos, accompanied by an orchestra and willing to endure everything that “the fans, legs and hips” will allow them. The success of this new edition has been such that cinemas in the United Kingdom will show their last concert starting next November 29th and are already expressing their desire to take full advantage of the emotions they continue to arouse among their followers. “At 47 you say, ‘You know what? There’s a lot of shit in the world. So if you can bring joy into someone’s life, and your own, why not?’ Nicky Byrne recently said this The sun.
The band’s journey was born under the expert, controlling and paternalistic gaze of Louis Walsh, the manager which had brought success to another Irish teenage band, Boyzone. They were also under the wing of Simon Cowell, head of the British music industry and creator of television formats such as The X factor OR American Idolas well as co-creator of the group One Direction. Egan, Feehily and Filan, high school friends in the Irish town of Sligo, first formed a sextet with three other friends, who ended up being fired after Cowell demanded changes to the lineup, deeming them “the ugliest band in the world”. Nicky Byrne and Brian McFadden would later join, having beaten hundreds of hopefuls in a fusion and with the sole mission of following the packaged pop formula to the letter nineties: beautiful voices, good looks and good manners.
The five young Irishmen, dressed in pure white, differed from other bands of the time by rejecting any minimally rebellious, rebellious or festive pose. There were no tattoos, earrings, provocative choreography or glimpses of personality: they presented themselves as the ideal genres and their promise was nothing other than to condense the most devoted romanticism into just three minutes of balladry. A perfect, well-oiled machine that didn’t falter even when one of its members, McFadden, left the band in 2004 due to fatigue. With almost military discipline, they released nine studio albums in nine years, toured as many times, sold more than 55 million copies and even launched an official perfume and chocolate bar.
But it didn’t take long before the machine began to fail and the group’s pristine image revealed its first cracks. The iron control of managersopaque contracts, the priority of commercial issues over artistic criteria and an exhausting schedule, which barely left them time to forge a life off stage, ended up deteriorating the relationship between its members. “Those in charge made it very clear to us that our personal life was one hundred percent second to Westlife. There were times when a family member died and we couldn’t go to the funeral because there was a concert or an interview that day,” McFadden confessed in the BBC documentary. Boyband forever. “We lived in fear of Louis (Walsh). He would tell you, ‘You’re done. I’m going to kick you out of the group. I’m going to put you on the next plane home. Only four people can fit in a taxi, not five,'” Kian Egan added.
Until their first separation, way back in 2012, the decline of the Westlife members’ image was as progressive as it was unstoppable. Singer Shane Filan has filed for bankruptcy after losing several million dollars in a failed real estate investment. According to what he confessed, he went from being a millionaire to having to search for coins in the back of the closet to be able to feed his wife and three children. He had to sell his wedding ring and, despite giving massive concerts, his bank account did not exceed 470 euros. The testimonies that recalled his years of international success demonstrate that fame had a cost. Mark Feehily, who years later would go public with his homosexuality, explained in interviews that he suffered from depression and had “suicidal thoughts” because he thought he would never be able to confess his true sexual orientation to anyone. “I stayed in my hotel room. I could stay there for hours, sometimes days, and I had no motivation to go out. I thought, ‘If I can’t be myself, why even try? (…)’. My mind went to very dark places,” he told the magazine. Attitude. The British tabloid press was quick to label Westlife a “damned” band.
The following years were years of silence, of personal projects and of lives that found normality without falling into scandal. As their solo careers failed to take off, they recycled themselves into TV presenters and TV show contestants. realityuntil in 2018 they announced their unexpected reunion, riding the profitable wave of nostalgia millennial which have since exploded without remorse. “You see the generations coming to the concerts, the people letting loose, remembering the songs of their first kiss, their first dance, all those special things that music does, says Byrne. “And not just for the fans: we’re having the time of our lives.”
