Take That
Everything Changes

I thought for a long time about whether or not to write this review. I imagined your comments, all the way to the extreme consequences of a banned IP and a lifetime banned nickname from the De-Database. But to hell with it. I believe that music should, first of all, stir emotions, and today I am here not to talk to you about a group that has revolutionized the history of music of all time, but about 5 people who brought a breath of fresh air (or created a many-headed monster, depending on opinions) in the international scene.

We are in the early 90s. The Oasis still haven't released "What's the story", the Blur haven't yet thought of "The Great Escape". Britpop hasn't officially been born yet, the UK scene is divided between old glories (George Michael, Elton John, and the revived Queen), nostalgics of a bygone era (Clash, Sex Pistols, and some remnant of the Beatles) and good potentials moving in the murky "alternative" scene (Pulp, Suede, Jamiroquai). In short, for the inhabitants of the global village, a nice flatness.
One fine morning, a guy named Nigel Martin-Smith has a brilliant idea: to build a money-making machine on a global scale by exploiting the innocent consciences of young girls. To do this, he needs various factors that when combined will create a credible product. After many auditions up and down the United Kingdom, the Take That are born.

The origins of the name are nebulous (there were those who spoke of a reference to the scandalous Madonna of the "Sex" era), the five members seem to perfectly represent every facet of an average teenage girl's dreams. There’s the gorging and talented singer-songwriter, but chubby and initially unlucky (Gary Barlow), the cute face teddy bear (Mark Owen), the mischievous rascal (Robbie Williams), the minstrel with a lost look of few words (Jason Orange), and the dancer with a sculpted physique (Howard Donald).
Just over five stereotypes, but through some mysterious mechanism after not exactly brilliant beginnings (the 1992 debut "Take That and Party" is a painfully sad agglomerate of dance-pop rhythms suitable for middle school parties), the time bomb set by Martin-Smith (as devilish as ever) literally explodes.

The initial failure is addressed by changing look and sound, trying to make at least a semblance of listenable music instead of flattering girls by showing them the package. 1993, "Everything Changes" bursts into the UK charts and anchors itself in first place. The single-release shoots bullets that hit number one at the first launch with evil precision, the boys are hailed as saviors of the nation and the European tour is hammering to exhaustion but (perhaps because of this very reason) triumphant. There isn’t a medium that doesn't talk about them, no teenage girl who doesn’t have a poster of them in her room, the merchandising invades all that can be invaded. It’s TT mania by now. This is when I discovered them, while I was yearning from the benches of junior high school for the boy from the class in front who did not give me a glance, and to console myself, once home, I would pop this CD in my first player and crank up the volume to max.

The ideas are nice: in the opening title track you can even hear Robbie Williams, little more than twenty at the time, on his second solo try (the first was "Could it be magic", contained in the unlucky debut), a fresh, joyful, danceable and singable piece with a cheeky yet acceptable text. "Pray" remains one of my favorites: overlooking the banal text, the music is a combination of good beat with string harmonies that compose a dreamy melody, just like a prayer. The video rakes in awards in various competitions; in fact, it’s one of their best. "Relight my fire" (a cover of an old Motown piece) is better live, the unforgettable sight of the quintet decked out as tempting, half-naked devils who sweat and flirt among flames and pyrotechnics (the package always factors in).
Another number 1 "Love ain't here anymore" (sweet ballad in Gary Barlow style) and in the end, room for Mark Owen lead vocal in "Babe", together with "Back for good" a foundational piece of their live repertoire where the story of the veteran returning home after an indefinite time away and finding a child in his image and likeness is evoked by the feeble voice of the Oldham pup for the use and consumption of a very cute video mini-movie and of swathes of fans who inevitably melted into tears at the end of this piece.

But the 5 kings of pop are destined for a short reign.... girls, as we know, grow up and are fickle, and so, after losing an important piece like Williams (histrionic and charismatic, as well as the rebellious soul of an ensemble too puritanical to be plausible), on February 13, '96 (coincidentally Robbie's birthday) they resign from the world of music; taking their leave, with Howard’s words, "while we are still at the top" the band leaves millions of sobbing widows worldwide, concludes a tour promoting the inevitable final greatest hits, and bids farewell. The curtain falls on the fathers of the boyband trend, meanwhile burnt not so much by the explosion of Britpop, but by the saturation of a market that had seen them as undisputed rulers for almost half a decade.
The solo careers do not meet expectations, the runaway Rob still takes immense day-by-day revenge on the ex-mates struggling to win back the audience of former teens by continuing to churn out rehashed anthologies and advertising a reunion tour sold out in minutes. And amidst all this... a former little fan who dreamed of meeting and knowing them remains to watch this phenomenon attempting to make a comeback, savoring the bittersweet aftertaste of memories and the passing of time... now, for me, the TT are this: they remind me that I am no longer 14, I no longer attend junior high, I’ve grown up with all that this entails. But sometimes I still think I’d like to go back to being a child, with their posters as wallpaper from skirting board to ceiling, a big box full of magazine clippings and with so many of those beautiful fairytales in my head...