I-N-T and the kids.

The girls cheer madly, and that's polite. You know, it's not easy being a boy band. The genre is always in its dying days or on the cusp of a revival. That's why past and present boy bands are the only post-Nirvana music scene that matters. They're the true sound of desperation. I-N-T has a big management deal? The dream lives on.

These young ladies, however, won't care by the time I-N-T release an album. They're in the dying days of their pre-adolescence and on the cusp of some major sensuality. That's why Crash Mansion is the place to be on this Sunday afternoon, even if the bar is strictly serving soda and pizza. This concert is better than an all-ages show. Anyone over the age of 16 should probably be arrested.

Hopefully, I'm fitting in among the scattered dads who are riding out the final hours of their court-mandated weekend commitments. We're in the back with all of the moms. The crowd packed up against the stage?with the exception of two future male members of a Rent touring company?is entirely made up of young females. You can't avoid the estrogen contact high.

I-N-T is wrapping up their set with the usual plea for gals to join their Street Team, but these fans have already pledged their free time to Greg Raposo. As a member of Dream Street, Raposo was a rising boy band star?until, that is, the boys' parents broke up the band over conflicts with management. That's worked out fine for Greg, though. His self-titled solo debut last year was a very likeable attempt at maturity. He's still dependent on a Radio Disney audience, though, which explains why he's playing this intimate show for his local fans.

And as a special treat, Greg's former Dream Street cohort Matt Ballinger is serving as MC. He strolls out and announces, "I miss you guys!" And who can blame him? Everybody wants to be in a boy band. Matt's introducing Xit88, who are proud to have augmented their heartfelt rock with some choreography. They should just change their name to "Hot Wheels Twenty." Still, their set is surprisingly good, and I hardly even notice when they close with a cover of a Tonic tune. Or is Tonic already a boy band? Probably not, since nobody can actually name a member.

Then it's time for the main event. "Is he sexy, girls?" asks Matt. "Well, he's got big feet, if you know what I mean." Goddamnit. These are my favorite kind of girls?specifically, the ones who are digging in their heels against the growth spurt?and Matt has to make it dirty. It's bad enough that the day's big fashion accoutrement is plastic pacifiers embedded with flashing lights. Plato's Retreat never had it so good.

Greg turns out to be fairly great, too. He takes the stage to a prog-rock intro, and the opening song is a madly catchy tune that tosses in a tribute to AC/DC. It's soon apparent that he's revamped his entire act into a power-pop showcase, and he's a lot more inspiring than Fountains of Wayne. At one point, Greg looks out at his audience and asks, "Do you guys understand why I like this business so much?" Yeah, I've got a pretty good idea?but then, I'm viewing the "guys" from the back.

The boyish ballad slows down the set, but that's a necessity. It's the day after Valentine's Day, and one lucky gal gets to come on stage and have Greg stare into her eyes while singing "We're In Love." It's a fun moment, though, and Greg later finds redemption with his other big sappy song. The band revs it up Badfinger-style for a cinematic feel. A lot of legit rock bands can't pull that off nowadays.

That's the big finish to a short set, too, since the club has to clear out the kiddies by 6:30. Some of the girls use Greg's encore as a chance to start lining up at the table where he'll be signing autographs later. I don't join them, of course. That would be pathetic. I'm on good terms with Greg's mom, and she can send me one later.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailtojrt@nypress.com)