Dialogue: Puberty music is most disposable commodity of all

Parents have always hated their kids' music but what irks now is the advent of what I call puberty music, which is mesmerising kids from about 7 or 8.

It seems that one minute kids are singing Mashed Potato Squashed Banana with Dorothy the Dinosaur and then they are catapulted into the hormonal world of pubescent teens with their flaky idols touting odd album titles, my favourite being Oops I Did It Again (I hate to think what exactly). Of course, kids don't seem to care, as they innocently mimic the lyrics and copy the moves, but for a parent it all seems too much too soon.

There seem to be three distinct categories of puberty music. First up is the all girl/all boy ensemble groups whose manufactured songs are probably all written by the same computer since the sounds seem totally interchangeable. Names ending with "Boys" or "Girls" appear to be popular and the winning number of band members seems to be five.

Then there are the allegedly virginal, female groups whose suggestive lyrics and slutty looks intrigue the girls and tease the testosterone-ridden teen lads. They are the sort of girls you hope your son never goes out with - particularly since you catch Dad looking lustfully at the CD cover.

Both types are packaged formulas. Kids with the right look are plucked from obscure performing-arts schools, thrown to the marketing department and then fast-tracked to the charts. The traditional prerequisite of having an ear for music or having played a few gigs need not apply.

Marketing-savvy youngsters have no problem buying into this, so the record companies don't even bother trying to hide it. For instance, the television series about the creation of New Zealand and Australian pop stars, spawning TrueBliss and Bardot respectively, were totally upfront about the marketing strategy, to the point where kids were fascinated by it. They didn't seem to mind the lack of credibility or raw talent.

The Asians have taken this a step further with the creation of several extremely popular computer-generated popstars who exist only in cyber space.

These 3D pop heroes come complete with manufactured history (a bit like art imitating life).

It's just a more expedient way for marketers to gain all the control without the headaches of scandals, substance abuse, the expense of having plastic surgery and the embarrassment of having to try to revive a flagging career.

Even better, these stars don't ever have to age nor do they demand to be taken seriously as artists.

We live in a disposable society and nothing is more disposable than puberty music to teen fans whose obsession lasts mere months before posters are ripped off the wall and a new phase is started. (Blue Tack sales must be soaring.)

Said one bemused mother: "I was certain Kevin from the Backstreet Boys was going to be my son-in-law but like a passionate love affair it was over in a few months."

The final category features the dangerous "hard out" types who play a role in kids' lives much like the "bad influence" friend whom Mum and Dad hate. Parents freak at what they think are subliminal messages and the casualness of the obscenities. Within this category sit rap, hip hop and also kids' first introduction to rock. These are the artists who have the longest potential lifespan, as sooner or later kids will notice and appreciate that this lot at least have the capability to pen their own lyrics. Some can even play an instrument.

But most of the disposable "artists" (I use the term loosely) will be simply thrown on to the scrap heap of old puberty stars who one day will play Vegas like David Cassidy or, like Donny Osmond and Jason Donovan, have to make do with a starring role in Joseph and his Technicolour Dreamcoat.

So, parents, never fear - the fad isn't going to last long and if it's sticking, just deploy the old reverse-psychology trick.

Driving her teens to school, a mum I know found herself mindlessly rapping to her son's CD: "Hello, I started this gangsta **** and that's all the mother***** thanks I get ... "

Her son, embarrassed and furious that she had crossed into his territory, soon found a new musical obsession.