BROWN IS THE NEWGOLD

An 18-year-old kid may be pop music8217;s last great hope

Teens are hanging out of the third-story windows of the Los Angeles Leadership Academy charter school waving frantically. If they didn8217;t look so ecstatic, you8217;d swear they were trying to escape from a blazing fire. But instead, they8217;re screaming 8220;Chris, up here! Chris!8221;

The object of their flaming desire is singer Chris Brown, 18, who8217;s posing for photos on the school8217;s basketball court. The 6 ft 2 inch entertainer glides with amazing ease around the court8212;rolling the ball across his shoulder blades from one fingertip to the other, busting dance moves, singing Elvis8217; Jailhouse Rock to the bouncing beat of the ball. He8217;s a showman, the likes of whom we haven8217;t seen since Thriller-era Michael Jackson.

Which is why everyone in the school8212;rockers, rappers, punks, R038;Bers, dweebs, even teachers8212;can8217;t help but ogle at him, and why one student on the third floor screams, 8220;Billie Jean8217;s not your lover, but I will be!8221; A teacher pulls her in and slams the window shut.

That8217;s a switch. When the R038;B/hip-hop/pop artist performed a medley of Billie Jean and two singles off his new record Exclusive at this year8217;s Video Music Awards, it was the most-talked-about moment of the show. 8220;Whatever Chris Brown just did reminded me of how I8217;m getting older,8221; said Justin Timberlake, all of 26, after Brown8217;s performance.

The music world wasn8217;t the only place that took notice of Brown8217;s leap from teen heartthrob to budding superstar. Sony Pictures offered him a three-picture deal not including his first feature role in This Christmas, which opened last week. Even Jackson came out of hiding to call Brown 8220;a bright and shining star.8221;

8220;Of course, I think the comparisons are great and flattering,8221; says Brown, smiling. 8220;Nowadays, we don8217;t have a Michael, or a James Brown, or an Elvis; I8217;d love to turn into that, but I only just started.8221;

Brown was doing what he always does with his free time8212;rapping and dancing8212;at his dad8217;s gas station, when local talent scouts discovered him six years ago. He was self-taught then, and still is. His dancing8212;a sort of soul-infused acrobatics that defy the laws of physics and basic anatomy8212;feels completely spontaneous.

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It8217;s not that Brown8217;s the best singer, but he8217;s certainly the most exciting. And now that he8217;s of legal age, Brown says he can sing about 8220;adult things8221; like 8220;making love8221;.

Brown8217;s never really played squeaky-clean teen idol: he8217;s tattooed up and down both arms8212;Jesus on one side, a skull and halo on the other. 8220;I8217;ll stop getting tattoos,8221; he says, pulling down the sleeves of his sweat jacket. 8220;I don8217;t want to scare off my audience.8221;

Like Jackson, he8217;s used fancy footwork and dazzling performances to pull in all camps. But just how plausible is mega success in an industry that banks on American Idols and singles where production, not the artist, drive the song?

Brown has more facial hair now than he did two years ago, more beef on his lanky frame and a lower voice8212;though he8217;s only just moved out of his mother8217;s Virginia home and all the way down the street. 8220;Like all moms, she8217;s, like, 8216;I don8217;t want my little baby to grow up.8217; It8217;s, like, 8216;Mom! Whatever.8217; I guess because I started out so young, I have to remind everyone around me I8217;m not 15 anymore.8221; Says the boy who would be king.
-lorraine ali Newsweek