New Kids On The Block were fortunate enough to precede the boy band tag during their reign over girls in the ’90s because nobody knew that that’s what they even were until criminal/impresario Lou Pearlman made about a million of them in the aughts. Before the saturation of those frosted-tipped Floridians, NKOTB were put together by Boston via—funnily enough, Florida—producer Maurice Starr after things went sour between him and pre-pubescent pop patient zero, New Edition. Starr needed the same thing but white, basically, and found the New Kids—first Donnie Wahlberg, who recruited his bff Danny Wood and schoolmate Jordan Knight (SWOON), who then recruited his brother Jonathan. Eventually they found 12-year-old Joey McIntyre to sing the high stuff (not dog-whistle high, like Jordan, SWOOON).

Five unintentional archetypes; five unintentional molds for all the man-boys that would come after.

These five kids were good, honest (and really cool and streetwise, probably) Boston dudes, not pushed through any Mickey Mouse Club star system and certainly not raised on a steady diet of that shiny shit. An accusation of lip-synching was a scandal instead of expected. “Step By Step” was and remains a dark, masterful pop song, and the Backstreet Boys never had anything near as bold as “Tonight.” Aside from the megafame always attached to the names, the New Kids never crumbled into post-hype rehab/Christian albums/Aaron Carter as kin (oh god, and that TV show), and instead quietly, modestly, transitioned into relatively successful solo careers, acting, and, you know, real estate. Nice and sensible. NKOTB were honourably unseated by a modern musical revolution; BSB got put through the garbage disposal and were composted to grow an ‘N Sync and an O-Town and you get it.

Comparing New Kids on the Block to the Backstreet Boys is like comparing Mariah Carey to Rebecca Black: borderline blasphemous and obviously important.

So sure, we could talk about the genius behind “Step By Step” or the tantalizing appeal of Donnie Wahlberg, or we could open our hearts, our minds and our souls to billowing shirts, iced tips and one hell of a Thriller rip-off that led to countless makeshift dance-offs at junior high soirees.

Backstreet’s back, all right.

With only a soulful glance, extended hand or moment of unexplained precipitation, we listeners were transported from our parents’ basements into the grips of love; ignoring the controversy behind “Get Down” to bust a move to sweet, sweet beats while believing that regardless of which boy said no to a slow dance, the Backstreet Boys would “Never (actually) Break [our] Hearts”.

Centre-parts and pleats a-blazing, our pre-pubescent feelings were articulated by five Floridian gentlemen who knew more than how to pose for posters, but how to begin a song with sincere reflections. True, Kevin was older than our parents and Howie was the worst, but the gang’s penchant for prose meant only one thing: they’d have it that way (whatever that meant).

So while New Kids On the Black eventually collapsed in on themselves like a Bostonian-based dying star, BSB soldiered on: supporting members’ fall from grace and combining rainstorms, ski lodges and airport scenes to prove that, regardless of sleeveless vests or DUIs, they were – and will always be – “Larger Than Life.”