Abducted By A Russian Boy-Band (Part 1)

I'm going to make this a several-part series as the details of this bizarre adventure are far too interesting to leave out and the story is fairly complex and long. Yes, I was LITERALLY abducted by a Russian Boy band. It all started the beginning of the summer of 1997. I was at my local gym in Hoboken, NJ when I received a call on my cell phone from a rising star at my talent agency. He is the kind of agent that thinks outside the box and will buck convention when he sees an untapped opportunity and today one of those opportunities came through his fax. There was a currently successful Boy Band in Russia called Ha-Ha (pronounced Na-Na) that was looking to transition to the American market that was, at the time, being so generous to bands like The Backstreet Boys and N'SYNC. With Dollar signs in their eyes, the master plan (as far as we could tell through broken English filtered through French and Lebanese accents- more on that in a second) was to add an American face to this already seasoned set of five, drop one of the current members (for reasons we had yet to find out), record an album in English, build a new following in Europe for several months(Modeling Backstreet's business format) and then hit America with an over-the-top styled concert tour that would rival a Cirque De Sole' event, and as a result, hopefully sell millions of albums in a market where that could mean really big money. Interesting.... My agent, knowing I was the adventurous type, of course thought of me. Would I be interested in auditioning today at three O'clock before going into work at my bar tending job? And oh yeah - bring comfortable dancing shoes. Why not... So, off I went on the train with my guitar and sneakers towards what would become, by far, the most bizarre few months of my life. A journey that would end in a very similar way to the movie "White Nights" except with more mafia though the amount of dancing would be about the same... At the audition location on Lafayette street, I was asked to sign in and was then carefully looked over by a full-figured woman the way a hungry lion studies a pack of Gazelles. Eventually she spoke revealing a French accent and told me I'd be singing for them in just a few moments when the person before me was done. I tuned the guitar - and waited. About ten minutes later a tall Soap Opera looking guy came out and I was ushered into the empty room where there were about three people -including the French woman- sitting behind a large card table. So I launched into the Black Crows' "She Talks To Angels." Then they asked if I could do any R&B songs. So I did a few bars of the Boys To Men song "It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday." Mind you, I'm no vocal gymnast who celebrates the art of meaningless riff -but I riffed as well as I could and I guess they bought it. They asked me if I could hang around for the "Dance" Audition in about a half hour, which... would make me about an hour late for work. After a few phone calls to my boss, agent, and a temp replacement for work - I stuck around and joined the growing waiting room with what appeared to be a well coiffed group of rather Androgynous looking guys. At this point I was becoming a little weary of exactly what this whole thing was about and when they herded us into the room together and asked us all to take our shirts off - I became very weary. But hey this was clearly a European Gig and they have a different take on things in Europe than we do here, so I obliged, grateful that at least I had come straight from the gym. Besides, based on the fact that I also happend to have been the only one to get the "Comfortable Shoes" memo (something that was taking on new meaning now by the predominance of "Loafers" I saw around me) I could easily outrun anyone here if the requests got really weird. But I was quickly reassured by the presence of a fairly well respected choreographer I had seen at several legit Broadway auditions, so... we began learning some standard group "Boy-band-esque" dance routines. Not being a formally trained dancer, I managed to respectably keep up and it was clear my style was on the "Raw" and "Street" side of things by comparison to the refined technique I saw pirouetting around me. After about 45 minutes of learning and presenting our routines to the peanut gallery, the French woman dismissed everyone but myself and the Soap Opera looking guy who had done the vocal audition before me. They had us wait in a separate room for a few minutes where I introduced my self and decided to see if he thought this whole thing was a bizarre as I did. He didn't think it was bizarre at all actually and by contrast seemed extremely eager to be picked for this opportunity explaining the he had researched the band which was (at least according to the Russian Community of Brighton Beach, NY) a hugely successful group. He showed me a few CDs he had picked bought with, as you would expect on the cover, the classic picture of five shirtless guys posing in that cliche' Boy-Band way reaching out towards the camera as if to say "I choose you." Frenchy then came and asked me to follow her back into the audition room again where I reminded them I was on a tight schedule to get to work. The French woman (Names intentionally withheld) basically explained her intentions in a very straight forward way all the while avoiding any details and carefully dodging any direct questions I posed. Her ability to understand English would become suspiciuosly impared everytime I questioned her... She told me they had chosen me for the band, that the other guy (Soap Opera Guy) was my back up choice -awkward-, and that they would need me to fly to Russia in five days to join the band for the beginning of the Summer Tour. They wanted my answer now. I couldn't keep from laughing out loud at the absurdity of their supposition, but I indulged them as long as I could knowing my agent gets paid to deal with this type of thing. On my way out I walked by the Soap-Guy and asurridly said "This one's All you man," a phrase that would come back to haunt me later on. I left for work absolutely incredulous from the whole thing and was certain now that this "opportunity" was a full blown candid camera set up. I kept waiting for the TV host show up and point out the cameras... He never did. I didn't go to Russia in five days...but... two weeks later I was on an Aeroflot flight to another planet... (To be continued) Evan