This morning’s newspaper (thin, thin, thin) had an article on why young women concert-goers scream.That phenomenon goes back to the days of Elvis and the Ed Sullivan show, where the cameras would pan the shrieking audience of twin-set and circle-skirt clad teens with page boy haircuts and scrubbed-clan faces. They’d be weeping, clutching their hands to their chests, jumping up in down and fainting. I never got into the Elvis-Eddie Fisher-Beach Boys-Beatles-Donny Osmond-Dion adoration thing. I found them all to be too pretty – too coiffed and syrupy to be anything more than manufactured acts with as much staying power as a shooting star. The ‘boy band’ One Direction is coming to Toronto next month. Their ages range from 20-22 so I’d hardly call…

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