Getting high off nostalgia with 98 Degrees, Dream, and O-Town on the MY2K Tour

Of all the reasons why Dream, Ryan Cabrera, O-Town, and 98 Degrees are hitting the road once more, it’s not a stretch to say that “making more money” is somewhere near the top of the list. I mean, just look at Britney Spears’ Vegas residency. In 2014, E! News reported that the “Toxic” singer was earning nearly half a million dollars per night thanks to her Planet Hollywood gig, which has since been extended until at least 2017. Monetizing nostalgia is a lucrative venture; the onslaught of remakes and sequels spilling out of Hollywood, not to mention the terminal spread of BuzzFeed-style throwback content online, is proof enough of that. But viewing the MY2K Tour solely through such asshole-colored glasses ignores perhaps the most vital catalyst for last week’s concert in the rural Wichita suburb: the fans.

“I’m here for O-Town,” a woman named Pearl Turner told me during the second intermission of the night. “I watched Making the Band religiously when it first came out.”

The suspiciously ageless Ryan Cabrera, whose spiky ’04 ‘do had been streamlined down to pompadour undercut, had just closed down his set with “On the Way Down,” prompting what felt like the entire 1,500-or-so-person audience to go scrambling up the cement staircases to get another drink before O-Town went on. My efforts to grab a second vodka soda were ultimately in vain, but I at least had the chance to speak with Pearl and her three friends about what drew them to the MY2K Tour. I inadvertently sparked a good-natured dispute between her and a friend, Kat Zidler, who swore allegiance to 98 Degrees. But Pearl held strong in her conviction that O-Town was, is, and always will be a superior boy band to the Lachey brothers, Jeff Timmons, and Justin Jeffre—although neither group is “better than Backstreet Boys,” she conceded.

Kat will be pleased to know that I found plenty of 98 Degrees heads scattered throughout the arena, including three super nice dudes who invited me to join their MY2K tailgate in the parking lot outside. (Their three female friends were, for the record, firmly team Ryan Cabrera.) Despite the crowd’s low energy during Dream’s opening set, the screams were near deafening by the time the fortysomething daddies of 98 Degrees choreo’d their way onstage, serving second Bush administration in matching military fatigues.

But despite the audience’s enthusiasm, many people in the crowd—who, on the whole, were mostly white, mostly female, and appeared to mostly range in age from their mid twenties to late thirties—insisted that they were not diehard fans of any of the pop acts present. In fact, when I asked one young woman whether she has thought about Ryan Cabrera at all over the past 10 years, she answered, “Absolutely not.” This was moments after she had told me that she was super excited to see Mr. Cabrera, her onetime teenage idol, perform later that night. Few people said that they still make room for 98 Degrees or O-Town on their Spotify playlists. They usually only listen to “Liquid Dreams” et al unintentionally, by way of an automated Pandora or SiriusXM station. So, why had they all bought tickets for opening night? Like I said, nostalgia can be one hell of a drug.

All highs eventually wear off. No matter how many words to “He Loves U Not” or “All or Nothing” I surprised myself by remembering last Friday night, I couldn’t forget about all the violence that had transpired in the days leading up to the concert. Earlier that week, Alton Sterling had been shot and killed by police officers in Baton Rouge, La., and Philando Castile had been shot and killed by police officers in Falcon Heights, Minn. And then, just before midnight Thursday night, a sniper shot and killed five Dallas cops at an otherwise peaceful Black Lives Matter demonstration against police brutality and the institutionalized racist violence that had robbed those two black men of their lives.

Heidi, a 98 Degrees fan from nearby Salinas whom I was seated next to, told me that she, too, could not forget about the endless stream of violence coursing through the news lately.

“[The concert] has been a nice distraction,” she said, “[but] this stuff is heavy on the mind. I was kind of scared coming in here. I know it’s just the MY2K concert, but, I mean, things are happening all over in places you would never expect anything to happen—even in Excel, not far from here, there was that shooting [in February]… But I feel happy. I feel safe right now… Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if [one of the performers] says something about it onstage or takes a moment of silence. I would respect doing that.”

But on Friday night, the only clear reference to the shooting I could discern came courtesy of the American flag flying at half-mast outside the Hartman Arena, easily the tallest object for miles in any direction. I assumed that the security protocol I had to go through upon entering the venue—a bag check, front-and-back wanding, a minimally invasive pat-down—included additional measures on account of the violence that had occurred only two states away. But when I asked a guard if security was always this tight, she surprised me by saying, “Yes, always.” Ryan Cabrera did mention the Texas metropolis during his act but only to say that it’s his hometown.

The silence about the shooting that had rocked the nation beyond the scoop-bowled arena’s gray cement walls grew increasingly louder as the concert wore on. So much so that when O-Town’s Erik-Michael Estrada came onstage in an Orlando Magic jersey, I assumed the universe must have been gaslighting me. But, no—my poptimism was not misplaced. Estrada was indeed trying to show his support for the 49 victims of the June 12 shooting at Orlando LGBTQ nightclub Pulse, as he made clear at the end of his band’s set. “Orlando, we love you!” he yelled, grabbing the lettering stitched onto the front of his black-pinstriped jersey before running offstage to meet his bandmates. In a night of nostalgia-driven fantasy, that small dose of reality was much appreciated.

Bad at filling out bios seeks same.