The curtain is finally closing for real – no more key changes, no more stools.
They arrived in the middle of a pre-X Factor boyband boom, five guys standing in a line, looking constipated in love, and plucking imaginary keys out of the air. In popular memory, every new single was a ballad, ending with a key-change, the boom of a confetti cannon, and a sudden leap off a line of stools. Fourteen number one singles and one former bandmate later and they’re leaving amid a craze for cavernously anthemic pop/classical albums, made by stubbly men in tuxedos who don’t care about credibility. It’s a genre they paved the way for, possibly without realising it.