Too cool for school: The teen bands who've got the music industry on the run

The pub's sticky wooden floor is heaving and swaying with the weight of a hundred teenage girls in skinny jeans. And as I begin the perilous scramble to the front of the crowd, through seas of Topshop dresses, directional haircuts and Converse trainers, the lights go down, the throbbing strobes go on, and the band take the stage to a deafening roar.

"The lead singer's HOT!" screams my 25-year-old best friend, and indeed she has a point. "The drummer is really amazing!" says my other friend, Ollie, who is not easily impressed by such things. It's a combination to get an audience like this going - good-looking lead singer with a hard-edged London twang, the tall brooding bass player in skinny black tie. No wonder the room is hot and hormone-ridden.

This is not just your average pub band playing to a hardcore of loyal fans, trying to hit the big time. They are called the Minpins, and they are part of a phenomenon that is changing the face of the music industry. The oldest member of the Minpins only finished his GCSEs last year. The drummer is 15, has a halo of angelic blonde hair, and admits he'd be at home playing on his PlayStation if he weren't in the band. At 16, Ian, the rhythm guitarist, would be doing the poll-vault and Jamie and Joe should be doing their A-level course work. But they're not. Instead, there are playing to a packed north London pub full of adoring fans.

Their opening instrumental, "Nancy", (named after Joe and Will's five-year-old sister) is met with a barrage of screams, along with other melodic indie anthems like "Asphalt Man" (which their dads call "the sweary one") and the soulful "Skinny Pandora", sung passionately and sensitively by James and Joe. They wink and smile at the audience; the drum pedal breaks, but they laugh and deal with it like consummate professionals and sing some acoustic Radiohead to fill in the gaps. You don't have to sentimentalise these kids to be impressed.

One bald, middle-aged man is jumping up and down so furiously that he steps on my toe. "Sorry" he shouts, breathlessly, "but they're so good I haven't stopped dancing all night! My friend dragged me here, but I'm having the best time ever." Even the adults are seduced.

The Minpins are not alone: school-age rock-star hopefuls are making an ever-bigger mark on the British music scene, armed with nothing more than a couple of mates, a laptop, a guitar and a thriving MySpace page. With their hypnotic, sexy blend of youth, fashion, naïve enthusiasm and charisma, school bands have never been so cool.

These are the same teenagers who spawned the term, "MySpace generation", after the internet networking site that has allowed teen bands like Cajun Dance Party, Bombay Bicycle Club and Pull in the Emergency to make, record, distribute and perform their music in a way that has never been possible before. Bands are getting younger by the second and the music industry is paying attention.

"The net is behind it all," says the music mogul Simon Napier-Bell, who has been in the industry for more than 40 years and in his time managed Wham!, Mark Bolan, and The Yardbirds. "Teens can create a web of recommendation and promotion without even leaving home," he says. And it's not just MySpace: with the widespread availability of music download sites like Limewire and Kazaa, and the advent of iPods, MP3 players and web-capable mobile phones, 12- to 18-year-olds have now become the biggest consumers of net-based music. It's cheap, it's easy, and "If an audience can be built up on the internet first," says Napier-Bell, "then record companies are more likely to hear about it."

I've brought along freelance A&R scout Ferdinand Hall to the Minpins gig to see what he thinks. He has scouted for some of the UK's top record labels, and should know what he's talking about when it comes too rooting out new talent. "They are young, which is a great selling point because you are immediately tapping into a massive market of teenage music fans," he tells me. "They are all in on the fashion, looking good, singing about the stuff kids want to hear and they are really marketable because the press love the story of a young band being plucked from school - it's a fairytale."

It was only last summer, in the limo on the way to their Year 11 leavers' ball that the Minpins first decided to make a serious go of it. "We was all like, 'yeah let's start a band!'" says Jamie, the bass player. "After that we spent every day together that summer making music, didn't we?" The rest of the band nod enthusiastically.

Today, the Minpins are basking on the sun-drenched roof of the Proud Galleries in Camden, in a row of deckchairs, earnestly pouting and posing for the Sunday Review photoshoot. Joe is quietly strumming his guitar. "I just love the creativity," says 17-year-old James. "Whenever I hear Joe's music I feel really inspired." Ian, 16, agrees, "It's like replicating what your heroes - like Metallica - have done, which is fun, but scary". Will, the baby of the group, admits he just loves (omega) showing off to his friends, "I'll say, 'Sorry boys, I can't come to the park to play football, I'm playing a gig in Camden with my band.' It's amazing!" And they have every right to be excited. Their first MySpace page received around 6,000 views, and every day their current page receives hundreds of hits from people from places as far away as California. As Jamie rightly points out: "MySpace has made the world of music a lot smaller."

Never has it been so easy for young people to get their songs heard. You get some mates together, make a demo on your bedroom laptop, set up a MySpace page, buy some skinny jeans and arrange some gigs and hey presto! Just ask the Bombay Bicycle Club. They met at school in north London (their classmates are the band Cajun Dance Party), and they are now garnering interest from some of the country's top record labels, press and music PR companies. They have recently released an EP, "The Boy I Used to be", on their own record label ("Mm..."), with Arctic Monkeys producer Jim Abiss. And they have only just started sixth form.

I asked Jamie, the Bombay Bicycle Club's 17-year-old guitarist, how a bunch of school kids can go about making it into the big time. "It all started when our form teacher asked us to play something for the school assembly," says Jamie. "Our performance was pretty appalling, to be honest, but it was a start and for some reason we decided to carry it on." Since then, they have played to several thousand people at last year's V Festival after winning the "Road to V" competition, mingling backstage with the likes of Bloc Party, We Are Scientists and Fat Boy Slim.

"It was pretty daunting," says Jamie, with classic teenage understatement, "but it felt right." But the band seem to have got their feet firmly on the ground and are putting off signing with a major label until they have a bit more experience behind them. "It's a scary industry when you're still only 17 and having all this stuff offered to you," says Jamie. "Obviously we want to be recognised, but at the moment school comes first. I think we would like to be famous, but I'd be happy if we just made credible music that people enjoy."

One may well wonder how a bunch of 17-year-olds could possibly have the breadth of musical knowledge to compete with the older, more experienced British bands on market, but the Minpins have packed a lot of musical learning into their short lifetimes, citing, among their inspirations, Marvin Gaye, the Rolling Stones and Radiohead. "In some cases our differences could be seen as divisive," says Ian, "but in our case it's almost like our strength."

Perhaps not since the concept of the teenager came along in the 1950s, hand in hand with the birth of rock'n'roll, has being 15 or 16 carried such kudos. For much of the intervening half-century, being a teenager has been about striving to be older, to be taken seriously as adults. I was the Minpins' age in the mid-1990s, and our role models were the cool 20-somethings in TV programmes like Seinfeld and Friends. But today, with the easy availability of affordable high-street fashion, music, and entertainment, the teenagers are calling all the shots, according to the NME's James Jam. "Young people are defining the music they listen to now - it's coming from them, it's not coming from the adults," he tells me. "Teenagers are doing it for themselves, so if you're over the age of 17 you might as well kill yourself," he says sardonically. But I am slowly starting to believe him. "It's only natural: 17-year-olds want to listen to music by 17-year-olds," says Jam.

The past three years has seen an explosion in live music events for the under-18s, starting with the Way Out West night in Brentford, then the Underage Club and All Age Concerts in London - all of which tap into the same thriving demographic of trendy, music-hungry, internet-literate teens. At the forefront of the teenage music scene is 17-year-old Jack Croft, who co-runs the highly successful All Age Concerts, regularly packing out venues as big as La Scala in Kings Cross, with popular acts such as the Klaxons, Jack Penate and Cajun Dance Party.

"Before now, there was never any outlet for young bands (omega) to get heard," says Croft, "but it's hard to tell whether there is suddenly a glut of new young talent, or whether that young talent just never got heard in the past." And do live music events like these encourage young people to make their own? "Definitely," says Croft, "Because young bands have got somewhere to play, it promotes confidence in others, so that more and more young people are starting to form bands, write songs and produce their own music. If they see bands like Cajun Dance Party on stage having the time of their lives, then it's quite infectious and creates a knock-on effect throughout the industry."

This powerful combination of internet networking, new technology and unprecedented access to live music events has created what Ferdinand Hall calls "a DIY ethic" in young bands. "They are starting their own club nights, their own bands, becoming managers, and they've got the tools and confidence to do it for themselves, so major labels can no longer operate in the way that they were doing," he says. The Minpins are a prime example: they met at school, practised in the shed, recorded their own demo, uploaded it on to a MySpace page and did their own promotion through the internet. "Anyone can do it," says the Minpins bass player, Jamie.

Sam Benjamins, international promotions manager for EMI, calls these entrepreneurial teens "the lost generation" because "they are the generation that have become used to obtaining music for free, swapping tracks via Bluetooth in the playground and downloading the latest music from Limewire. It's going to be hard for record labels to get them to pay for music ever again. This is the major hurdle the music industry faces at the moment."

It wasn't always that way. Growing up during the late 1980s and 1990s the pop charts (and my bedroom walls) were bursting with fresh-faced gangs of boys in matching denim, earnestly crooning "A Million Love Songs" (Take That), "Stay Another Day" (East 17) and "Love me for a Reason" (Boyzone). Record company bosses grew fat on the profits made from their teenage pop-puppets and their adoring female fans. The label was in control: from their conception, to the style of their music - right down to the colour of their shoes. The music scene has changed dramatically since the spray-on-tan days of manufactured pop bands: the variety, accessibility and quality of teenage music have created a highly discerning market - and the record labels are responding accordingly, says Napier-Bell. "Record companies are learning to be subtly deceptive," he says. "They use the internet for heavy promotion while retaining the band's social teen credibility. More than ever teenagers want to believe that they've found the artist for themselves, and not been "sold" it by a record company".

Most importantly for young bands, says Napier-Bell, is retaining the elixir of youth, sex, rebellion and anti-establishment that are unique to being a teenager - and will be their biggest selling point as a band: "Teen bands ooze teen credibility" - and it is a highly marketable commodity. At the moment top record labels and PR companies are jumping all over the latest surge in young talent like Arctic Monkeys, Cajun Dance Party, Jamie T and Jack Penate, desperate for a whiff of the elusive teen market. But young bands should tread with extreme caution, warns Hall: "Young bands lack the wisdom and experience that older bands have to say no to bad decisions. If the band is too young, then it's unlikely that they will have a strong enough identity to carry themselves forward, and record labels could easily take advantage of that."

It's a minefield out there, so what is the best advice for a band like the Minpins, who have already sparked the interest of two major labels? "There is no point in rushing anything," says Ferdinand, "If I was their manager I would tell them to stick at what they're doing for two or three years, rehearse and write as many songs as possible, carry on gigging and have as much fun as possible. If you're good enough, the record labels will come to you."

But luckily the Minpins are a sensible lot, and claim to be unruffled by the press interest, the prospect of a record deal and gangs of drooling groupies. "We just want to have fun," says Jamie and, "It's not about the fame or the money, it's about the passion for the music," says James. But somehow I don't entirely believe them. The boys have already been ribbing James about "rock-starring it out" with his female MySpace fans and the other day the band were "spotted" in Ruislip by a group of schoolgirls. "We was walking back from the Pizza Hut," says Jamie, "and this group of girls walked past and said 'Ooh, it's the Minpins!' It was so embarrassing, so we just walked off and laughed."

Is this just a passing trend, or are school-age rock stars here to stay? Napier-Bell says: "The mixture of sex, rebellion and aspiration is unique to being a teenager. It has been the essence of the pop business since the 1960s, and they are unlikely to go". And as the Minpins strut about and slurp drinks through a straw, I decide I'd like whatever they're having. It's official: teenage bands are taking over the world (or Ruislip, at least). s

Forever young The five ages of kids' bands

1960s: Monkeying around

The formation of the Monkees in 1965 heralded the birth of the manufactured pop band - hot off the success of the Beatles in the UK. They were hand-picked by TV producers Bert Schneider and Bob Rafelson, to play a fictional TV pop-group, Davy, Micky, Mike and Peter (the four plucky members) - and are widely regarded the first band to be groomed from start to finish as a commercial product. Everything was carefully manufactured, from their music to their TV personae, paving the way for generations of their squeaky-clean proteges. They are best known for hits such as "I'm a Believer" (1966), "(I'm not your) Steppin' Stone" (1966) and "Daydream Believer" (1967). They disbanded in 1970.

1970s: We are family

Family ties provided the selling power behind the young bands of the 1970s - and the Bay City Rollers were the UK trailblazers. The tartan-clad teenagers, with their cheery singalong pop anthems such as "Summerlove Sensation" (1974) and "Shang-a-Lang" (1975) were a hit, creating nationwide "Rollermania" and winning them a 20-week UK TV series. Over the pond, a plethora of young bands were quick to cash in on the promise of a musically-talented gene pool. Famous examples were The Jackson Five, The Partridge Family and The Osmonds - which consists of brothers Alan, Wayne, Merrill, Jay, Donny and "Little" Jimmy. The saccharine-sweet naivity, the uplifting songs and the convenient crossover between the worlds of television was a perfect vehicle for the 1970s family bands.

1980s: Shiny happy people

The antithesis of the 1970s message of shiny happy family, was the pouting, arrogant materialistic leather-clad institution of the 1980s bad boy bands. First up, from the obscurity of Bushymeads School in the suburbs of east London, sprung George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley with Wham! They released their first single "Wham! Rap (Enjoy What You Do)" in 1982, the fun-loving, cocktail-swilling dream team soon became Britain's biggest pop act. From the do-it-yourself school of pop came Duran Duran with their 1981 debut album, also titled Duran Duran. The winning combination of good-looks, new romantic style and edgy pop-electronica won them an adoring following of teenage fans and countless magazine spreads. John Taylor remarked that the band "was like a box of Quality Streets: everyone is someone's favourite". Meanwhile, manufactured US boy band, New Kids on the Block were storming the US charts. NKOTB was the brainchild of US producer-songwriter Maurice Starr, and consisted of brothers Jordan and Jonathan Knight, Joe McIntyre, Donnie Wahlburg and Danny Wood. The group went on to sell 70m albums world-wide and paved the way for schools of major boy band success stories, including NSYNC and Backstreet Boys.

1990s: Boys are back in town

Pre-packaged, pre-fabricated, pre-meditated - the 1990s were the golden era of the boy band. The most notable success story were the starry-eyed northern sweethearts, Take That, which comprised Gary Barlow (the podgy one), Mark Owen (the pretty one), Robbie Williams (the cheeky one), Jason Orange (the horsey one) and Howard Donald (the, er... other one). Hand-picked by producer and manager, Nigel Martin Smith, they released their first single, "It Only Takes a Minute" in 1990, and followed it with a catalogue of top 10 hits including "Pray", "Relight My Fire" and "Babe" in 1993. They became the biggest selling pop group in the UK since the Beatles, but disbanded in 1995 after Robbie packed his bags to hang out with the indie kids at Glastonbury. Other notable boy band replicas of the 1990s include East 17, 5ive, and the squeaky-clean Westlife, signed by Simon Cowell in 1998 and managed by Louis Walsh. For a while the boys were wearing more fake tan then the girls, and we thought we'd never get our hair straighteners back - until reality-TV series such as Pop Idol and X-Factor signalled the death knell for the pre-fab band.

2000s: Different class

Moving swiftly away from their polished 1990s forebears, the young bands of the new millennium placed a high price on the appearance of "difference" and "authenticity." Bands such as Busted (2001) and McFly (2004) bridged the gap between the saccharine-sweet man-pop of the previous decade and the new generation of pop music with a slightly harder, more rock'n'roll edge. They were still teenagers playing mainstream pop, but they had scruffier hair and an air of skater-boy chic. Slick Brighton four-piece, The Kooks, hit the charts with their debut album, Inside In/ Inside Out in 2006, heralding the birth of a new generation of young bands with mainstream appeal, and a niche-market image. Today the music scene is saturated with new young bands like Cajun Dance Party, Pull In Emergency and Bombay Bicycle Club, launching themselves into orbit.