When did this happen? When did Disney change from being the land of soaring, fibreglass castles and Mickey Mouse to a high school filled with angsty teenagers and their pop-star friends? Parents have been asking each other this question ever since their "tweens" (traditionally the eight to 12-year-old set) started abandoning the simple pleasures of The Little Mermaid in favour of their pink, furry microphone and Hannah Montana - or popping on their special glasses to watch the Jonas Brothers spray screaming teenage girls with foam in Jonas Brothers: The 3-D Concert Experience. Yes, the appetites of kids today have changed beyond all recognition. And with album sales of eight million, the JoBros are reaping the rewards.
The Jonas Brothers produce the kind of music that makes your face ache. It's saccharine, bubblegum pop rock straight out of a nicely ordered garage. Hanson did it; Busted did it, and as part of the Disney machine, the Brothers' appeal beyond the bunches set seems, at first, limited. But they offer something more - something that could well give them life beyond the school halls: they were not, as many believe, manufactured, but had formed before Disney got to them. They had even produced an album for Columbia, and were only picked up by their new parent when that flopped. Even better, the Jonas Brothers can actually sing, write and play music. Well, at least one of them can.
For those who are still unacquainted with the prominently eyebrowed brothers from New Jersey, there is Kevin, 21, the sensible one; Joe, 19, the daring one; and Nick, 16, the tortured, sulky one who is the brains behind much of their work. But, however much they strive to carve out separate identities, Brand Jonas is really all about their message - which is resoundingly pure. Not for them the traditionally louche rock and roll lifestyle - something the British comedian Russell Brand publicly mocked at last year's MTV Music Video Awards. And despite their efforts, it is this that continues to characterise them to many.
Their fourth album, Lines, Vines and Trying Times picks up where A Little Bit Longer left off, albeit with a broader range. It speaks volumes about modern music tastes that it swings from country to rock, pop and Motown with something akin to attention deficit disorder. The shifts are not, however, unpleasant. In fact, a whole album in the style of any one of the songs would have been unpalatable to the extreme, so variety was always the way to go.
Things get off to a combative start with World War III, a kicky, brass-backed number that sees Nick squealing: "I don't wanna fight widjoo" in a refreshingly unsugary manner. Rock is a genre the Jonas Brothers seem comfortable in, and Don't Speak, in which they appear to emulate U2, and Much Better, an INXS tribute of sorts, are two of the best tracks on the album. Traditional pop gets an interesting twist in the country-laced jig, What did I Do To Your Heart and the sunny, orchestral number Fly With Me. However, it is on the reflective Black Keys that a flicker of real songwriting potential is first evident. The arrangement is impressive, and, for once, the lyrics actually seem to hint at genuine emotion.
But the genre box-ticking exercise goes a step too far on Don't Charge Me For the Crime, a laughable attempt at hip-hop, complete with police sirens, in which the rap artist Company provides them with some clean-talking (obviously) urbanity. "Now I see the flashing lights" sings Nick, "there goes my future and my life." Err? not unless there's something you're not telling us. And this is where the Jonas Brothers fall down. They're simply too young and innocent to sing about anything that's actually interesting. In World War III, Nick spends the whole time trying to stop an argument. And in Poison Ivy, he is literally suffering from, you guessed it, poison ivy. Not exactly the stuff of memoirs. And therefore not the stuff of lasting fame. The tweens will eventually grow up, after all - and they won't be wanting to hear about a plant rash then.
