Why Britain's Teens Won't Fall for the Jonas Brothers' Charms

As with the buzzing of a particularly persistent mosquito, you are probably at least vaguely aware of the existence of the Jonas Brothers. They recently had an altercation with Russell Brand at the MTV Video Music Awards when the comic made lewd jokes at the expense of the evangelical Christian band and mocked the "promise rings" they wear to symbolize the fact they will not engage in pre-marital sex. Now on these shores for the launch of the new Disney movie, Camp Rock, the Jonas Brothers have launched a full-scale media assault on the United Kingdom. Brace yourselves, folks.

Nick, 15, Joe, 19, and Kevin, 20, already enjoy enormous success in their native America; they have sold out the 60,000-seat Madison Square Garden thrice over, graced the cover of Rolling Stone and sold more than a million copies of their third album, A Little Bit Longer. Wherever they go, they leave in their wake crowds of young girls swooning and squealing and weeping. But in a good way.

The mania might not translate quite so well over here. Yes, they're pretty young lads, well-groomed purveyors of impeccable mall-pop - think Hanson wrapped in Hannah Montana with a dash of Avril Lavigne and a glug of Maroon 5. They have a song called Lovebug, for instance, which is an undeniably sprightly tune: "I'm speechless," it runs, "Over the edge and just breathless/ I never thought that I'd catch this lovebug again." But one can't help thinking that even our adolescent girls will begin to wonder just where the Jonas Brothers come from and whether they aren't just a devilish ploy to sell merchandise and convince them to keep their legs closed.

I like to think that the Jonas Brothers are what would happen if you took the Kings of Leon - preacher's sons from Nashville, corrupted by wild women and whiskey - and completely inverted them. The Jonas Brothers, too, are the sons of a former preacher, but they have abstained not only from pre-marital sex, but also from drugs, alcohol and cussing. It is almost as if some savvy marketing honcho with a flip chart set about devising a kiddy version of the Kings of Leon. Indeed the closer you look at the Jonas Brothers - their chiselled jaws, their quaint olde worlde references to kissing, their complete range of tote bags, bracelets and, yes, silver rings, the harder it gets to shake the suspicion that they were formulated in a Disney laboratory.

Yes, it's true, as teen bands go, they're altogether agreeable. And yet possibly just a little bit too agreeable?