She totaly deserves the attention she's getting, but i don't know what to think of this article...you??

Here's what it said:

Who's That Girl?
By LYNN HIRSCHBERG

Amanda Latona has a voice, but she needs a sound. It is January, and she is standing in a small, closetlike recording booth in Midtown Manhattan, where she is recording part of her first album for J Records. Her handlers are still trying to decide what kind of platinum-selling pop sensation she should be. Originally, the idea was that Latona, who is 23, should be Britney Spears. Latona admires Spears, and they almost performed together in Innosense, a girl group from the home of teen pop, Orlando, Fla. Innosense was designed to be an American version of the Spice Girls, but Britney left to pursue her solo career. Lately, Spears's star has fallen; her last record sold disappointingly, and her HBO special revealed that she can't sing live. With 'N Sync and the Backstreet Boys dismantling and Christina Aguilera still recording the follow-up to her 1999 debut, the teen-pop phenomenon seems to have fizzled. 

And yet Latona was signed to J Records in February 2001, with the idea that she would be that label's Britney. Of course, she couldn't be an exact replica; the executives at J know that it takes at least a year to record a debut album and that the public's taste -- especially that of 12-year-old girls -- shifts easily. Latona wasn't signed because she was an original artist. Like Britney, she was an attractive package: poised and pretty, Latona could be poured into various molds and carefully shaped to fit the marketplace. "If her material is right," says Clive Davis, the C.E.O. of J Records, "Amanda could do anything." 

Latona is dressed this afternoon, as she usually is, in hip-hugger jeans and high-heeled boots. She steps away from the microphone. "Britney's career was my direction for so long," she says. "I've been waiting forever for this." She has long, black hair that is blown straight; her heavy eye makeup, coupled with the fact that she's wearing a lacy fringed shawl tied around her hips and a low-cut top revealing several of her nine tattoos, gives Latona a witchy, "gypsies, tramps and thieves" look. She's the best-looking biker chick you've ever seen. 

"In the record business, today is over," says James Diener, Latona's artists-and-repertoire director at J. "We have to figure out what they want to hear tomorrow." Diener, who is sitting on a worn couch in the studio, is the arbiter of all things Amanda. Latona is not a songwriter and doesn't play any instruments, which means that Diener's job is to create a persona for her through the vision of others who do write songs and play instruments. Latona's voice is powerful but not particularly distinctive. Though she can belt out a song, she does not have, say, the gospel shadings of Whitney Houston or the five-octave range of Mariah Carey. Latona's voice is notable, however, in its ability to accommodate different genres. She could perform in a Broadway musical, make a Pepsi jingle work or shout-sing like a rock star. "With some artists, only one style fits them," says Diener, who is wearing a leather porkpie hat and is never far from his cellphone. "Fortunately, Amanda has the looks and the attitude to carry off many different ideas." His phone rings. "Some artists are resistant to ideas," Diener adds, checking the number of the incoming call. "Amanda is not resistant." 

Grooming careers is a specialty of J Records' founder, Clive Davis, who has turned artists as diverse as Whitney Houston, Patti Smith and Barry Manilow into stars. (His last protegee, Alicia Keys, won five Grammys last year for her soul album "Songs in A Minor.") Taking his cues from Davis, Diener is searching for "the right spot for Amanda." It won't be easy; with Britney losing appeal, Diener has to predict what sound will be popular seven months from now -- and these days, that seems harder than ever. In Latona, he has a singer who wants to be a star. The question is, which star? 

"I'm thinking there might be room now for a cool, young, beautiful girl in the spirit of Shania Twain," Diener says, as Latona leaves the studio to get some water. "Or even more rock, like Pat Benatar from the 80's. Will it help that Amanda's stunning? Absolutely. So will the right marketing campaign. But what's going to capture the audience is her first song. That defines everything. And it has to be a hit." Diener pauses. "If she misses," he continues, "with a singer like Amanda, who is not a self-contained artist who writes her own material, it's hard to get another opportunity." 

The hit-single formula has worked well at J Records and its parent company, BMG, but has not fueled sales of records industry-wide. According to SoundScan, single sales are down 64 percent this year, and album sales have declined 9.8 percent, continuing a downturn that began in 2001. What's more, pop artists no longer inspire loyalty. Alanis Morissette, whose 1995 debut album sold 16 million copies, has stumbled with subsequent efforts. No longer able to rely even on superstars like Mariah Carey or Michael Jackson for a guaranteed hit, record companies are scrambling to engineer fresh talent. 

The woes of the record industry are routinely attributed to the consolidation of radio, which makes it hard to break new acts; the growing power of Wal-Mart, which stocks fewer titles than traditional music outlets; and the Internet, which allows consumers to acquire music free. These are big problems considering the industry's thin profit margins. To break even on Latona's record, J must sell 500,000 copies; last year, of the 6,455 albums distributed by major labels, only 112 sold that many. 

J is confident, however, that it can succeed with Latona. "We've never had an artist sell less than 150,000," says Tom Corson, J's head of marketing. "To do that, we have to create a place for Amanda to shine. And it comes down to one song." This afternoon's potential hit single is "Can't Take It Back." After Latona was signed to J, Clive Davis set up a showcase for a group of top songwriters to hear her sing. This event took place the day after the Grammys, in a suite at the Beverly Hills Hotel. These songwriters were not just searching for inspiration; they were trying to define Latona as an artist. If they wrote crossover country, she'd be the new Shania. If they wrote teen pop, Latona would mutate in that direction. 

Perhaps it was her dark, good looks and her sexy-rough clothes, but most of the songwriters seemed to imagine Latona as an independent woman who was fed up -- an update of Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" attitude. Latona has never heard of Helen Reddy, nor is she a student of any of the great female vocalists like Aretha Franklin and Tina Turner. But if Latona heard any of them sing, she could approximate their phrasing, just as she can ape Mariah Carey's roller-coaster melismas. Schooled by karaoke and "Star Search," Latona is all about selling the song. And if girl empowerment is what people are buying, Latona will gladly sing the part. 

The tough-chick thing is not actually her personality. Latona doesn't smoke, doesn't drink or do drugs and has the peppy cheeriness of a beauty-pageant contestant. (She was, in fact, Miss Junior Florida.) But looks, in her case, dictated the mood of J's songwriters. Meredith Brooks, who had a hit a few years ago with the female-power anthem "Bitch," teamed up with the Nashville songwriter Taylor Rhodes and the L.A.-based Shelly Peiken to write ''Can't Take It Back'' for Latona. The song's lyrics -- You're crying this time, wish you could rewind/But that's the price that you pay, and that's that/You can't take it back'' -- wrap around a catchy guitar line and a sing-along chorus of "No-no-no-no-no-NO!" The song is a successful mishmash: there's a short rap in the center, a touch of Shania twang and a few rock growls scattered among the pop hooks. On the first listen, "Can't Take It Back" sounds like a song you already know by heart, one best heard in a car with the windows rolled down. 

So far, the plan is for Latona to record 11 songs out of the 75 submitted to J. The rivals for the first single are "I Quit," another female-empowerment anthem ("Loving you's a job I don't need!") and "Better To Be Lonely," which is more teen-oriented but still pushes the independence theme ("I don't mind hanging out with me/I like the company"). Another option, "Do You Still," is darker, more narrative in feel. "Do you still find it hard to sleep?" Latona almost whispers. "Do you have everything you need?/I gotta know, baby/Do you still love me?" Each song conjures a slightly different image. "Better to Be Lonely" could be sung by Britney; "Do You Still" is a more mature ballad. "I Quit" and "Can't Take It Back" are savvy mixes of young and old; each is a melange of pop, rock and a touch of country. 

Latona returns to the studio. "I'm so excited," she says. She is working with Shep and Kenny, a production team known for fashioning radio-friendly singles. 

Today they are tweaking the sound of "Can't Take It Back." Their small studio, located on the 24th floor of a nondescript Eighth Avenue office building, is dark, illuminated only by scented candles and computer screens. Those computers contain both a slick instrumental "backing track" and a "demo vocal" that interprets the song the way her producers prefer. "She's pretty open-minded," Shep says. "She'll try anything." 

As Latona rhythmically bangs her water bottle against her leg like a tambourine, she listens to a playback of the rap in the center of "Can't Take It Back." She talks-sings along with the demo: "And did you really believe it wouldn't come back to me/That you wouldn't regret it?" 

"Omigod, I love that," she says, looking for Kenny's reaction. 

"You were pushing the vocal," he says. 

Latona nods. She goes back into the tiny booth to rerecord the rap. Shep and Kenny replay their demo, phrase by phrase, and she copies it exactly. "One-take Amanda," Diener says with admiration. "The lyric to the song is so Amanda, don't you think? It's very uncompromising." He pauses. "Some artists walk in and they won't budge. Amanda is open to direction." 

As Diener listens to Latona, he talks about fine-tuning her image. At J, they are impressed with Shania Twain, who sold 30 million records with a mix of pop, country and soft rock. Latona can look and sound like Twain, so it's easy to link them up, but then again, Twain hit it big five years ago. "She's something like Shania," Clive Davis says, "but not country. Amanda should be rock and pop, but her looks and her eyes and her manner are compelling like a young Shania Twain." 

Diener says: "We have to listen to the rest of the music. But from what I'm hearing, 'Can't Take It Back' is a strong contender for the first single." 

Coming out of the booth, Latona hears what Diener is saying and kicks her leg high like a Rockette. "Yay!" she exclaims. 

A few days later, Latona is having lunch at Beacon, a restaurant picked by Diener for its location near J's offices. "I've eaten here already," she says, staring at the menu. "I'd never seen fish with skin on it before. I was thinking, fish with skin? What do I do with this?" She laughs. "McDonald's is good for me," Latona says, deciding on a steak sandwich. "I'm not a diva -- not yet, anyway." 

Latona laughs again. She likes tossing around show-biz lingo. She has wanted to be in this world from the age of 10, when she sang "Over the Rainbow" at a karaoke club. "I had vibrato and everything," she says. 

Latona, who was born in 1979, is a TV baby; she grew up not listening to music but watching it. Her mind is geared to the marriage of sound and pictures. As a child in Pittsburgh, she studied the moves of the dancing kids on the "The New Mickey Mouse Club" and imitated the Mariah Carey songs she saw on MTV. She has always been focused on being the girl in the video and has never really thought about writing a song. Latona had talent, she was pretty and she was driven, not necessarily in that order. 

"I've always wanted to work in entertainment," Latona says. "My family moved to Orlando when I was 15 so I could make it. I would do anything, as long as it was related to show business. I was Snow White, Mary Poppins and Esmeralda at Disney World. I learned four-part a cappella singing to perform with the Hollywood High Tones at Universal Studios. I am so not a pageant girl, but I signed up for the Miss Junior Florida contest because I thought it would be good experience. I was so nervous at the contest; I went to the car and said to my mother: 'I'm not going to do this. Are you going to be upset?' She said, 'No, but I'm always going to wonder.' I said, 'Me, too.' So I went back in. I was the only brunette, but I won." Latona pauses. "It was all experience. And that's taken me to now." 

Latona picks at her sandwich. She is wearing jeans and a white peasant blouse that sets off her Florida tan. She is an unusual combination of malleable and confident: she is willing to be coached but never seems to doubt that her stardom is a certainty. Perhaps this is because she has had so much proximity to pop fame in Orlando. She is friends with the members of 'N Sync and dated A. J. McLean of the Backstreet Boys for two years. She went to awards events with him, and she saw the screaming throngs at close range. "Everyone's like, 'Gosh, it's Backstreet!' " she says. "I've known those guys so long. 'N Sync had a house in Orlando, and I'd just go over there." She laughs. "I should've taken something. People would pay for that." 

When Latona left her girl group, Innosense, she knew she wanted to be a solo artist. "I didn't know exactly what style, although Britney was really big," she recalls. "But I try not to think about what other people do, because it's either intimidating or it makes me competitive or jealous. I think of my career almost like a research project. I try things and look at what works and what doesn't work." She pauses. "You never know in this business," she says, sounding a little weary. "But I've been waiting for this a long time. I want this album to be right, and if that means six different looks that look nothing like me, I'll still give it a shot." 

She pauses. She likes "Can't Take It Back" and the other three songs that are in contention for the first single, but she isn't sure about the Shania makeover. J took test photos a few weeks ago, and Latona was posed wearing a fluted jacket that was frillier than anything she'd ever pick for herself. The pictures were taken in a bar with a country-western-honky-tonk ambience, and Latona agreed to J's plan, although she didn't feel the photos matched her idea of herself. But since she wasn't certain what alternative to suggest, she went along. "Maybe they'll work," she says hopefully. 

It's a wintry day in mid-March, and Latona and her manager, Larry Mazer, are walking through Times Square on their way to the W Hotel, where Latona is staying for the week. Mazer, who is in his late 40's, wears aviator glasses and is overgrown in an appealing big-dog sort of way. He has managed musicians from Pat Benatar to Kiss to Peter Frampton, but always on the downward slopes of their careers. "I've worked with legendary artists," he says, "but I've been trying to resuscitate their careers. I always wanted to find that one artist who could encompass movies, TV and music. When I met Amanda, I thought, Here's the one I waited my whole life for. I hadn't seen her sing or dance, but when you saw her, you just got it."

"Yay!" says Latona, beaming at Mazer. Her looks often have this effect. Mazer, Diener and Davis all circle back to the power of her appearance. It is probable that men in their 30's (and up) will find Latona's almost chiseled features more compelling than teenage girls will, but her looks were a big part of her appeal to J Records. "Amanda is stunning," Davis says. "Her looks create a presence. And her star power comes from that presence." 

Today, Latona is bundled into a down parka, and she mostly looks like a tourist. "Look at that," Mazer says, pointing at a billboard of Britney Spears posing for Pepsi. "That'll be your billboard." Latona smiles. Mazer turns her around and points at a bus stuck in traffic. "See that ad on the side of the bus?" he says. "That will be you." He gestures toward the crowds waiting to be on camera for MTV's "Total Request Live." The studio is visible from the street, and Mazer looks up. "That will be you on 'T.R.L.,' " he says. "They'll be playing your No. 1 song from your platinum album." 

"Yay!" Latona says, loving his vision. 

They arrive at the hotel and take the elevator to a lounge on the seventh floor. Mazer perches on a tiny stool, while Latona, who takes off her parka to reveal a flowered chiffon blouse, sits on an equally low sofa. They met in October 1998, when Mazer was trying to sign the Backstreet Boys. The group went with another management company instead, but Mazer was fascinated by the Orlando scene. As Seattle was to grunge and Manchester was to house music, Orlando was to teen pop. Justin Timberlake of 'N Sync, Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera all got their starts on "The New Mickey Mouse Club," which was taped there. 

"I auditioned for 'The Mickey Mouse Club' when I was 11," Latona recalls. "I lost out to Christina Aguilera." That was back in Pittsburgh. Latona's parents -- her dad is a retired truck driver, her mother currently works the graveyard shift as head of security at Planet Hollywood in Orlando -- eventually decided to home-school their two kids and moved the family to Florida so that Amanda and her older brother could pursue entertainment careers. "In Orlando, my brother and I got annual passes to Universal Studios," says Latona, who still lives with her parents. "Everyday we'd watch Beetlejuice's Graveyard Revue. It was so great. One day, we're leaving the auditorium after seeing it the millionth time, and Joey Fatone was standing there. This was before he was in 'N Sync, and he started flirting with me. He said: 'I do this show. I'm Wolfman.' I said, 'Where do you go to do this?' " 

Fatone directed Latona to Dr. Phillips High School, which specialized in the performing arts; by age 16, she was the Bride of Frankenstein, in fish nets and a sparkly green bustier, belting out "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman." Offstage, she made extra money posing as an Elizabeth Hurley look-alike. Through Fatone, she met Lynn Harless, Justin Timberlake's mother. Fatone suggested that Latona audition for a new girl band, Innosense, which Harless was managing. 

"Groups were happening then," Latona recalls. By now dating Backstreet's A. J. McLean ("I love bad boys"), Latona started rehearsing with Innosense. The group went through several stylistic incarnations, which may have prepared Latona for J's persona shopping. First, Innosense was conceived as a Spice Girls clone. ("I was Sexy Spice," Latona sighs. "I'm always the sexy one.") When that seemed redundant, the group went hip-hop. ("I was wearing huge jeans with boxers sticking out the top.") Finally, Innosense opted for elegance. ("They cut our hair, and each girl wore one color,'' Latona says. "I was blue.") 

The group never took off. Latona left the band before an album was recorded. "It's so awesome to be by myself," she says now. "Five girls with their period is not good. We were all like, Give me chocolate." 

Mazer laughs. He knows the teen-pop world is fading, but he still views Britney Spears's early career as a template for Latona "Her single '. . . Baby One More Time' came out in November 1998," he recites from memory. "The single was No. 1 when Jive Records released the album. They shipped 600,000, and it debuted at No. 1. That's how to do it." 

Latona nods, as she usually does when Mazer or Diener dream aloud about her possibilities. She believes what they believe: that she will be a star on the order of Mariah Carey or even Madonna. Even though she has never recorded an album, Latona has an online fan base that has followed her for years, primarily because she was the girlfriend of a Backstreet Boy. She claims to have 40 Web sites devoted to her. There is something suspicious, however, about how often the specifically Amanda word "Yay!" appears on these sites; moreover, the "fans" report information that only Latona, J or Mazer would know. "Oh, no," Latona says, when asked if a firm like ElectricArtists controls her sites, as they have with artists like Aguilera. "I can't even go on the sites or the fans go crazy. They can't wait for my record." 

This week, Mazer is leaning away from "Can't Take It Back'' and toward "Better to Be Lonely" as the first single. Not convinced the teen thing is over, he thinks this song has a broader pop appeal. And he's shying away from the Shania idea. He and Latona have seen the photos, and they don't present her well. 

Diener, who keeps one of the Shania-style shots on his desk, realizes they make Latona look too old. But he is still enthralled with "Can't Take It Back." As for Latona, she doesn't care which single they pick. 

Making the decision is complicated, because the pop audience is shifting before J's eyes. The reigning sound has gone from flirty and soft (Britney) to rebellious and loud, as personified by the 22-year-old singer Pink, whose current hit, "Just Like a Pill," has an angry-girl rock chorus: "Instead of makin' me better, you keep makin' me ill!" (Pink's second album, "Missundaztood," has gone triple platinum.) J, Mazer and Latona want to pick a song and image that will fit this new pop mood. Latona may have been signed to be J's answer to Britney, but she can just as easily be J's answer to Pink. 

Mazer and Latona discuss her first video. "All I know," Latona says, "is that I don't want to show my stomach like everyone else does. I want to relate to the girls as being a cool girl, not someone they are intimidated by." 

Mazer agrees. "Look how much more successful Mariah was when she didn't take off her clothes," he says. "Now, it's, like, Just get naked already! Same with Britney. After you start stripping, there's nowhere to go but naked." 

Latona pauses. "But Pink has a hot record now, and she shows her stomach," she says. "So does Gwen Stefani." Latona has an idea that she could be a rock singer, something like Stefani, who fronts the group No Doubt. 

"Maybe we could be tasteful about it," Mazer allows. Latona is quiet. No one has encouraged her Gwen Stefani idea, although Diener does want her to have a harder edge, especially image-wise. "Mariah is a great artist," Mazer continues, "but she's not managed properly. I'd do it in a second." 

Latona punches him softly in the arm. "You have to focus on me!" 

"That's right," Mazer says, tossing his arm around Latona's shoulder. "You're going to be the next superstar. Or I'm going to die trying." 

In March 21, J Records holds a meeting at the Equitable Center in Manhattan to introduce new product to executives of its parent company, BMG, which also owns the labels Arista and RCA. In the last decade, the music business has been consolidated into five supercompanies. "The consolidation has made the record business more about business," says J's Tom Corson. "Before, it was more about records." 

Today it is announced that EMI, one of the big five, has fired 1,800 employees and canceled the contracts of a quarter of its 1,600 artists in an attempt to save $140 million. This news comes in the wake of the announcement that Mariah Carey -- who had signed a reported $100 million contract with the EMI label Virgin -- has been bought out of the deal for $28 million. Carey's last record, "Glitter," tanked, and she was acting strangely -- she had an emotional breakdown. EMI did not want to wait it out; instead of viewing her as an artist, they saw her as a shaky business venture. 

Clive Davis takes the stage at the BMG meeting around 9 a.m. He plays the new additions to the J family: a classic Davis mix of old-style rock (Rod Stewart's new record), R&B (Mario, a 15-year-old phenom) and hard rock (Silvertide, which sounds something like Guns N' Roses). For his pop entry, Davis plays all four of Amanda Latona's single contenders. 

Unfortunately, Davis doesn't have a photo for Latona. Davis, a stickler for the right pitch, felt the images of her were still wrong. The first shoot, taken when she was just signed to J, has her wearing a torn T-shirt that is spray-painted AMANDA, and her tummy tattoo is fully exposed. The second shoot was the Shania experiment. In those photos, her hair is styled in big country curls. She looks like Loretta Lynn's not-much-younger-sister. Youth is a key factor in the Latona presentation. She has to appeal to the Top 40 demographic, which is 12 to 24. "Clive felt that seeing Amanda in the flesh would be much more effective," Diener says diplomatically. 

At 69, Davis is one of the last great music impresarios. At Columbia Records from the 60's until 1973 and then at Arista until 2000, Davis showed his gift for seeing the potential in an artist and brilliantly constructing a career. Worried about Davis's age, BMG forced him out of Arista three years ago, but he persuaded BMG to back him in what he called "an instant major." Davis had just given Arista its biggest hit ever -- Carlos Santana's comeback record, "Supernatural," which grossed $350 million -- and BMG was embarrassed by the bad press it received for ousting him. BMG handed $160 million to Davis to start J (named after his middle initial) and allowed him to take five artists from Arista with him. One of those artists was Alicia Keys, whom Davis nurtured. "Her album was almost too original," Davis says. "But she had it." On the strength of one great single, "Fallin,' " Keys sold five million albums. 

Last year, Davis introduced Keys by asking her to perform at his annual Grammy party. He didn't ask Latona this time around. In fact, the two have had little contact. He conveys his thoughts about the singles through Diener, which might suggest he has reservations about Latona. He says, however, that he has expectations of greatness for her. "I don't sign someone," Davis says, "unless I believe they can headline Madison Square Garden. Amanda is an entertainer with range. She's beautiful and lighthearted, yet she has drive and determination." He pauses. "Look, there's 'Playhouse 90,' then there's that comedy that will entertain you. You know when you're making one or the other. Both are valid."

It's notable that Davis is more concerned with finding the best songs for Latona than with trying to predict the next musical fashion, like Diener. When Latona auditioned for Davis ("I wore dark Diesel ripped jeans, a black top with 68 spelled out in gold rhinestones and black pointy boots"), his only comment was that her material was subpar. "When you're singing," Latona recalls, "he has his eyes closed, and you can't read him." 

Davis signed her on a Thursday, the day after her audition. By Monday, Latona had received her advance. J will not say what the terms were, but going by industry standards, Latona probably received between $50,000 and $100,000. In addition, the label pays for the cost of recording and promoting the album, and when Latona's presence is required for an event, J pays for her airfare and hotel room. 

But "incidentals," which include food, gym fees, dry cleaning and cabs, are paid by Latona. A standard new-artist contract entitles the record company to six albums with payments (and possible renegotiation) dependent on sales. If an album sells over 500,000, the record usually becomes profitable, and royalties kick in. But after her manager and the producers take their cuts, a 15-percent royalty payment would leave Latona with around $1 a record. 

With a singer like Latona, who does not write or play her own songs, a hit single becomes even more crucial than it is with a singer-songwriter. Generally, critics do not embrace pop singers; they are kinder to artists who write (or co-write) their own songs, like Sheryl Crow, Avril Lavigne, Vanessa Carlton and Pink. A pop vocalist's fan base, therefore, evolves entirely from radio play. 

Perhaps that's why Davis has been less concerned with Latona image and more interested in her songs. As the demos came in, Davis would play them and make suggestions to Latona. "Let the listener into your boudoir," he told her after hearing the demo for "Do You Still," then adding, "You're angry and still in love." And with his very experienced ear, Davis would tell Latona that the fourth measure of the second verse needed to be sung faster. 

Latona and Mazer have welcomed Davis's suggestions. "Clive builds artists," Mazer says. "And J has the feel of an independent label with the clout of a major. J is new. If you have a hit, you own the place. Unfortunately for us, Alicia Keys got there first. But we'll be next." 

Because of Davis, and because Keys was such a phenomenon, J also has clout throughout the world of radio. "People listen to us," says Richard Palmese, head of promotions at J. "Local stations tell me, 'We look forward to records from J.' There's nothing like success to fuel success." 

The BMG presentation is followed by lunch at the Judson Grill. Latona introduces herself to reps who will promote her album worldwide. She loves this game: flirting with a promoter from England; chatting about Orlando with BMG's German rep. Latona is good at selling herself. Mazer has told her that an international profile is important, and Latona does what she is told. Besides, she knows that her looks are one of her assets, and there was no visual presented today. "I want you to remember me," she says to a French J executive. "When you hear the song, I don't want you to forget." 

Mazer is having fun, too, but he's worried that Davis doesn't see Latona as his next Whitney. He's encouraged, however, that Davis played all four songs today, and that Latona seems to be wowing the foreign reps. Latona is either oblivious or completely unconcerned about whether she's the label favorite. She doesn't mind that Davis is heavily promoting Mario, the 15-year-old R & B singer. Mostly, she is impatient; she wants her single, whichever one it is, to be released. "It seems like I'm always waiting," she says. "The longer we wait, the more things change in music. On the radio, the rock thing is the new style. And that's good. That's setting it up for me." Songs for Latona are still coming in, but the focus is now on songs with "edge." Three tunes by the prolific songwriter Diane Warren have been rejected as too Celine Dion. Pure teen pop is no longer Latona-esque, either. The Shania idea is dead, and Pink is the new standard -- Latona's image has to be redesigned along that harsher silhouette. So J is pushing Latona in a rock direction, which means "Better to Be Lonely" is definitely out -- and "Can't Take It Back," which mixes pop with rock, is the likely single again. "It has the right mix," Diener says. "But we're still getting music in. Clive wants to hear everything, and then he'll decide." 

The J records offices on Fifth Avenue look as if they were designed by NASA. Sliding glass doors open onto a raised granite-floored reception area where a large, silent television plays a loop of videos from J recording artists like the rapper Busta Rhymes and the boy band O-Town. Tom Corson, the marketing director, has a small corner office decorated with the essentials (computer, phone, piles of CD's). "My job," Corson says on a May afternoon, "is to differentiate our artists. Many acts have a close demographic: what makes one boy band different than another? Why is Busta Rhymes different from Jay-Z? My job is to clarify those subtle distinctions for the consumer." Corson smiles. "But nothing differentiates an artist like a hit track. That's what Amanda needs." 

To help land Amanda a hit, Corson and J have certain strategies. When J picks a single, it will turn the record over to its promotion department, headed by Palmese, who is a veteran of the music business. "Getting on the radio is like mounting a military campaign," he says. "The first thing I do, a month or so before the record comes out, is get it in the hands of radio program directors across the country. We try to identify who our 'heroes' are, the program directors who like the song enough to step out and add it to their rotation." 

Palmese's strategy with Latona is to start pitching her record to "Top 40-Adult" stations with a demographic of 25-54. "Amanda's true audience is probably younger," Palmese says, "and we'll go there next. But Vanessa Carlton, Avril Lavigne -- they are on Top 40-Adult, and it's broadened their audience. Radio wants the 18-24 audience. That's where the money is. If a record just appeals to teens, you'll only hear the song between 7 and 11 at night, not when there's prime advertising. When you're played on both teen Top 40 and Top 40-Adult, you get the daughters and the moms." 

Radio is tricky. Clear Channel Communications, which owns 1,200 stations, carefully tests songs before adding them to its nationwide playlist. Once Clear Channel samples a song on the air 150-200 times ("You have to make sure they don't play it late at night when no one can hear it," Palmese warns), they conduct "call out" research. A "call out" consists of phoning listeners at random and playing them 10 seconds of a song; if enough callers recognize it and express enthusiasm, the song is added to the playlist. "Call-out has become dominant," Palmese says. "Very few program directors rotate records by gut. The hardest part of promotion is getting a record played." 

The looming presence of Clive Davis will help Palmese sell Latona. J is also sending Latona on the road to meet program directors. "Radio is so competitive," Palmese says. "And Amanda is so charming. She has a passion for her music. It gives the program directors a visual on her, and it sends a message that the company is serious about this artist." Recently, the singer Nelly Furtado had great success with this strategy. After visiting radio stations coast to coast, she landed a Top 10 hit, "I'm Like a Bird." 

Palmese has a staff of 10 at J, and he also employs at least 10 independent promoters who work the entire country. "I know that's controversial," he says. Recent reports claim that independent promoters pay radio stations to add new songs to their playlists. These "indie" promoters are paid by record companies with an upfront fee reportedly between $100,000 and $400,000; the promoter then sends the record company a weekly bill for every song added to a playlist. It can cost anywhere from $250,000 to $1 million to get a single on Top 40 radio. 

Radio stations say that they are paid not for playing the song but for "notifying" the promoter that a song has been added to the playlist. The government may soon crack down on "pay for play," but for now the practice, although it smacks of payola, is standard throughout the industry. "For a hit song to find its way," Palmese says, "you have to have a great machine in place." 

This week, James Diener got the final mix of "Can't Take It Back." Mike Shipley, who has mixed hit records for Aerosmith and Shania Twain, "sweetened" the sound of the original recording. The music is brighter now, and Latona's voice sounds sultry and accessible. It's got a hook that sticks in your head. And unlike the other Latona contenders, it bridges a lot of musical genres. 

"Clive likes 'Can't Take It Back,' " Diener says, sitting in his even smaller office down the hall from Corson's. Diener's cell is dominated by "Jaws" paraphernalia ("It's the perfect movie") and his own pile of CD's. 

"I want to play you this," he says. He puts on the new mix of "I Quit," which sounds more like a rock song. Latona's voice has been amped and seems to have more sass. "I love this," Diener says, "but I'm feeling 'Can't Take It Back' is it." 

Latona likes both tracks. She's still fine with any of the top four candidates. She has only three more songs to record. She trusts J to make the right choice, although she's clearer now on not looking or sounding too soft. The success of Pink and Avril Lavigne has made clear the need for an image that's less bubblegum. 

"I like 'Can't Take It Back,' " she says on the phone from from Los Angeles. "But I love this new song." Latona is about to record the Joan Jett classic "I Hate Myself for Loving You." It's something of a departure -- a straight-ahead rocker. "At first," Latona says, "I didn't want to be rock. When I think of rock, I think of heavy metal. I said, what about pop with a lot of guitars? But my clothes have always been rock. And I love this song." She pauses. "I think it could be the single!" 

For the first time in the year since she has been signed to J, Latona seems to be shaping her own image. Suddenly, she's no longer a would-be teen dream -- she's a rock chick. Until recently, Latona only knew the teen-pop world. When she works out at the gym, she listens to 'N Sync (or to herself). Latona doesn't know music -- she had no idea, for instance, that "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" was recorded by Aretha Franklin when she sang it every night in Beetlejuice's Graveyard Revue. She also didn't know that Aretha Franklin famously worked with Clive Davis. "I was surprised Amanda chose that song for her audition," Davis recalls. "But she didn't know the history. That doesn't mean she can't sing. We know the history. The important thing is that Amanda Latona has a voice." 

Latona may not be a strategic thinker, but she is keenly aware of the power of media. She scrutinizes the images she sees in teen magazines and on MTV -- not to mention her own. "That first picture of me with 'Amanda' in spray paint really doesn't work," she says now, even though she styled herself in that picture, bare stomach and all. "The second shoot didn't work, either. That just wasn't my look. The next shoot will be better. I'm, like, YAY! I finally get to look like myself!" Of course, Latona remains willing to adopt virtually any persona that would lead to stardom. "I want to be a household word in every household," she says, rather sweetly. 

Now that Pink and Avril Lavigne have proved that a tougher (but sensitive) look and sound is the way, Latona knows how to proceed. Even if she didn't like their music, success makes sense to her. 

"People are fickle," Latona says. "And everyone changes their mind. That's the hard part." She pauses. "I do think the rock thing is the new style, though," she says again. "Which is good." 

"Listen to this!" Latona is saying. It's early June, and she has just run up to her room at the W Hotel in Midtown to get her CD Walkman and the final version of "I Hate Myself for Loving You." She looks different. She has cut her hair in a layered 70's-style shag, and although she's wearing her trademark jeans and boots, Latona has streamlined her look. She still has a gray cloud of makeup above each eye, but her style today is less Orlando and more bohemian chic. 

"Dude, listen to this!" Latona repeats, sitting on a low, armless chair. She puts the CD in the machine. "I was playing this in the room, singing to myself," Latona says, "and they knocked on my door and said, 'Could you turn your music down?' " She laughs. "Clive loves this song. We're thinking of making it the first single." 

She presses play, putting her head next to mine as we both listen through the tiny headphones. It's a classic heavy-guitar rock song with a sing-along chorus: "I wanna walk but I run back to you, that's why/I hate myself for loving you!" 

Basic, but kind of great. Keith Naftaly, another executive at J, suggested the song for Latona. She's singing along now, kicking her heel into the chair to mark the beat. "YEAH!" she shouts with herself, "I HATE MYSELF FOR LOVING YOU!" 

The song ends, and Latona sort of swoons. "Dude, I am so into it," she says. This ''dude'' thing is also new -- I've never heard her say it before. "This is the most rock of any of the songs I've done," she continues. "Larry says it's a Grammy winner for best pop-rock vocal. We have to get the song out so we can win the Grammy." 

She laughs, but you know she has that awards-show visual in her brain. "Dude, I can perfectly see the video for this song. All of my ex-boyfriends line up, and it says ex, ex, ex. It would be cool to duplicate what my ex-boyfriends look like. There'd be a blond and one with a goatee to look like A. J. In the video, I see myself as mad but horny." "I Hate Myself for Loving You" seems to have crystallized something for Latona. She's suddenly livelier, more self-assured and direct in her opinions. She now loves this rock idea. Pink has fully replaced Britney as the one to watch. That direction is music with bite. And Latona isn't going to miss her moment. 

"I recorded a Richard Marx song in Nashville," she says. "And it didn't work. I didn't feel it. The lyric was, 'I'm falling in love from my head to my heels.' Dude, I would never say that. The word 'heels' cannot be used in a song. It's just not cool." 

Yesterday Latona went shopping with a stylist from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. to buy clothes for her album-cover shoot, the photo that will set her new image. They worked their way from SoHo to Barneys; Latona had sent ahead photos clipped from magazines that had the look she wanted to capture. "I was very open," she says, "but dude, the first two shoots didn't work. I want to be able to look at the pictures we take this weekend and say: 'Oh, I get it. She sings rock.' " 

They picked out jeans at Diesel, a floaty pink silk dress by Ann Demeulemeester at Barneys, a pair of suede boots and 30 or so other pieces. Latona is meeting with hair and makeup people today, and she's going to show them Polaroids that she took of herself. She wants them to see how she looks when she goes out to a club. "Girls always come up to me and say, 'Dude, I love your style,' " she says. The first two photo shoots now considered failures, this weekend's shoot will be crucial. It's hoped that Latona will be revealed to be a genetic hybrid of Chrissie Hynde and Elizabeth Hurley. "I think I've finally come up with the style I'm looking for," she says. "Do you want to hear the song again?" Latona slaps the side of the chair and starts to sing. 

"You can't start a career with a remake," says James Diener the very next day. "A new artist should have original material." Latona didn't really protest. She did tell Diener that she hadn't heard the Joan Jett song before and that nobody else her age (or younger) would recall it, but Diener dismissed this argument. Clive Davis said he loved "I Hate Myself for Loving You" but felt they should stick with "Can't Take It Back" as the first single. "It's decided," Diener says. " 'Can't Take It Back' will hit Top 40 radio on Aug. 5." 

Latona was a little disappointed, but her belief in the wisdom of J is firm. "Can't Take It Back" still fits the tough-girl, Pink-manque strategy, and it also appeals to a wider musical base than a straight-ahead rock song like "I Hate Myself for Loving You," which may be a little too hard for a first single. Latona preferred the full-out rock-chick approach, but "Can't Take It Back" also sounds like a hit to her. 

It doesn't hurt that even before the song hits the airwaves, Karen Lamberton, who looks for TV and film opportunities for J artists, has sold "Can't Take It Back" to the movies. "Slap Her, She's French" is a teen comedy starring Piper Perabo, and Latona's song will close the film. J has also booked Latona on the YM Fashion and Music Explosion Tour. Starting in late July, she'll be performing at five malls from Texas to Minnesota. Then there's the radio-station tour. "That'll be fun," Latona says. "I'll say, 'C'mon dude, play my song!' " 

Five days before Latona's album-cover shoot in June, the original incarnation of Beetlejuice's Graveyard Revue ended its 10-year run at Universal Studios. "They had a party," Latona says, sounding uncharacteristically forlorn. "Joey Fatone was there and all the casts from the last decade. It was the end of an era, the end of a particular time in Orlando." 

Even the young can feel old, and Latona suddenly turns philosophical. "I want to create something like that show," she says. "I want my album to be a classic.'' She pauses. "That's why these new pictures are so important." 

The third shoot is a success. They layered her hair and added some highlights; they toned down her makeup and let her freckles shine. "There was a lot of pressure," says Alli Truch, the art director of J. "For a month I heard, This has to be fantastic. I knew from when we signed Amanda it was going to take a lot of time to make her who she will be. These photos had to be timeless -- not Britney or Christina. We didn't want the image to say Orlando or teen pop. That's over." 

The photos are beautiful -- Latona looks fresh and sophisticated, which is far from where she began. The main publicity photo that J chose is not the most glamorous, however. Latona looks tomboyish, like a prettier Patti Smith. Her look is almost insolent, but somehow wounded. It's a moody pose, far from the sunny Shania shoot and the mall-girl Orlando photos. Some at J fear that she may not look young enough in the photos and that the leather bra she wears in some is a little revealing, but overall, the pictures set the right tone. "Dude, I look like a star," Latona says, with mock grandeur. "I think I'm getting the hang of this thing." 

J doesn't yet have a release date for Latona's album, however. The number of albums shipped will be dependent on the single's radio success. If "Can't Take It Back" fails, J will release the album with considerably less fanfare. "They're going to wait until the single goes Top 10," Latona says matter-of-factly. "If you want to ship a high volume of albums, you have to wait until the single is Top 10. So that's the plan." 

"She said that?" Diener exclaims when told this. "Well, I'm glad she's optimistic." He laughs softly. "That Amanda," he says. "She's a quick study. Children grow up so quickly these days." 

Lynn Hirschberg is a contributing writer. She last wrote about Sam Mendes.