|
TGL – A year after the year of the Westlake Boyz, remaining expat members gathered at the Z-Café in downtown Hanoi for a recap of post pop stardom and to reclaim the mics.
|
|
|
Screez: popping in WLBz prime. |
Throughout 2003, the Westlake Boyz took Hanoi stages in a whirlwind of dance steps and vocal stylings to the thunderous applause of the female expat community.
This was no Full Monty mind you, rather a sextet of dapper chaps that brought song from the dinge of dodgy karaoke bars to the stage and to the masses.
As the inscription reads on a framed poster adorning one Z café wall: They are friends, they share the same hobby, they bring music to everybody! The Westlake Boy in Vietnam!
From lowly beginnings in Mot Hai Ba (123) Karaoke, the six lads and several support staff developed a lofty idea. Already organising karaoke parties that were drawing maximum capacity crowds at Mot Hai Ba, the crew were looking for a larger.
But beyond the Mot Hai Ba set lists, attitudes towards karaoke ranged from it being a boring pastime, to being the place to look for ‘a happy ending’. However, with a consistently low level of entertainment appearing on the expat radar, the time was right to take it to the stage.
The first show went off with a bang at the Z café, drawing a killer crowd and a bevy of luscious ladies. Australian skater boy Jake Styles reflected on the bands debut, “We really defined ourselves in that first show. We had a lot to learn, but we were definitely one for the ladies. A lot of guys had a really hard time understanding what we were about, although I don’t remember any of us being upset about that.”
Heat was also poured on by rival bands, who lambasted the Boyz for not being real musicians.
The first Hanoi Rocks show, while it drew the biggest crowd the group would sing for, also met with disaster. A technical hitch with the karaoke machine saw the Boyz pulled from the stage just a few minutes into their performance. Snide remarks filled the green room and tempers frayed. But while the Boyz regrouped to do their show later in the line up, lines had been drawn in the sand for expats on both sides of the entertainment line.
“It was disappointing yes. That would’ve been out best show. But there’s no grudge. This isn’t hip hop, there’s no beef,” said Jake styles as he prepared for a comeback version of Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water at the Z.
The Westlake Boyz were a working band, and while performance contracts may have looked lucrative, when all was said and done - between costumes and other costs - the band did little more than break even.
But as JT had reminisced a few nights prior at Saloon 17 while watching a tireless Filipino band, “We were never at the coal face of entertainment. We had fun and broke even. I can’t imagine doing what these guys do.”
As one fan put it, “With other bands, you’re watching musicians play, and that’s cool. But with Westlake Boyz, you felt like you were a part of the show.” Interactive behaviour from lusty female fans led to a tradition of underwear throwing, as well as the adoption of signs to communicate their every desire.
A run of the home made signs sought Latino heartthrob Charlie Santiago’s hand in marriage, which while it may have been every Hanoi girls dream, was ultimately dashed after a local Indy gig guide ran paparazzi pictures of Charlie crossing the road with a woman.
The band played Hanoi’s pop circuit for eight months, in which time they wracked up a media presence not to be taken lightly. They gained notoriety after appearing as poster boys for Xa Hoi Thong Tin magazine South East Asian Games edition.
However, life in a transient expat community ensures that members will come and go. The original on-stage line up was Zak J. Yurimari, Screez, JT, Dylan, Charlie Santiago, and Jake Styles. Offstage, in support were Mathilde (manager/dance instructor), Virgin Joy (costumer), and all around producer, translator and contract negotiator Nga. For several performances, a team of French dancers were recruited from a local dance school to provide a mid show breather.
Just keeping the all these roles staffed proved difficult. While the early loss of Virgin Joy was overcome, when performers needed replacing it was a different story. Down two performers and with manager Mathilde putting one foot out the door, the Boyz decided to call it a day on November 14th 2003. Drafting in Max Power from New Zealand for the finale, a five-member performance wrapped up the glory.
“The only regret,” says JT, now married and expecting his first child, “was that we never got to do a show in Ho Chi Minh City.”
|
|
|
Together again for the first time. |
At the Z café a year later, the remaining Boyz meet for a drink and a song. The café is part of the regular rotation of Vietnamese singers looking to be discovered, and as powerful voices project from the PA, the Boyz admit that they may be a little rusty.
JT inks himself in for the crowd pleasing irony of Wind of Change by Scorpions, Jake Styles pegs the classic Deep Purple, but Zak J. who has just knocked off work managing an upmarket restaurant, opts for a cold beer and a sit down. Charlie Santiago is notably absent after a rumoured dispute over t-shirt sales.
The Boyz seem tired a year down the track, the pressure of real jobs having been shouldered after their stalled ride to stardom. Another fact, and one they kept a close secret, was that even though they pitched themselves as a boy band, the average member age was 30.
They take in the sights and sounds of the Z once more, excited that their names are still tagged on the back of the wooden front door, visible alongside those of several local pop stars. The framed poster brings waves of memories, rounds of jokes and a call for more beers.
Of course there are the pre-song jitters, and more than a lot of Dutch gets imbibed before they take the stage, something they swear they never did before their shows. Balancing work, and in some cases family, against being an aspiring pop star left little room for the demon drink they claim.
While they paint themselves up as one time exponents of clean living, it was again Charlie Santiago who fell foul of the paparazzi, snapped in a local bar drinking rice wine in the company of women.
Back on stage, they capture audience attention by gathering for a three-way croon along on the chorus of Wind of Change, tossing in air guitar for added effect. While the local performers have a very definite edge in vocal talent, it’s clear that the Boyz have some zest.
They take to the stage with a flamboyant energy unprecedented by the other talent, tossing in pointless English ad-libs to the Vietnamese speaking crowd, while popping and locking little dances and affecting clichéd crooner poses.
The triumphant return rekindled their spirit of show, reminding the three why they did what they did, and of the international bond formed between them. Several days later, after reunion photos were emailed out with condolences to those who couldn’t be there, the replies rolled in.
Dylan the Canadian Cowboy, who recently took time off editing the definitive Westlake Boyz Video Experience to run the New York Marathon, said “So very, very cool! Got my eyes shiny and wet for the rest of this month I think... I miss you Boyz!”
Max Power, now in London, England, lamented, “I haven't sung for a very long time. People here pee me off because they think it is silly. In reality they are the most boring people I have ever, ever met.”
And now, as the tears of Westlake Boyz mania subside, and the remaining boys have faced their final Hanoi curtain, they state their case, of which they’re certain. When the entertainment options are limited, the last thing you should do is limit your own options.
The Good Life | 
