Despite my pesky prodding, Bryan Chan remains defiant. The Pleasanton native absolutely refuses to say whether he survived the final roster cut for the manufactured-on-TV boy band called O-Town.

"You'll have to watch and find out," he teases.

"C'mon. Just between you me," I say.

"I really can't," he insists. "Really."

"Is the fact that you've held onto your regular job an indication?" I ask.

"It might or might not be," he says.

"Well ..."

"Really, I can't," he says, laughing. "I'd get my butt whipped. There's this long, extensive contract. ... You should see it."

So much for my lame attempt at Woodward-and-Bernstein-like doggedness. Oh well, perhaps another day.

For now, though, the deep-voiced 25-year-old on the phone remains a curiosity, and there are other questions begging to be asked. Questions like: Is the boy-band process really as dehumanizing as it seems? What's it like to have TV camera crews on your tail from sunup to sundown? And were there any major slap fights over the hair mousse?

Chan is one of eight finalists chosen through a series of national auditions to star in the ABC documentary series "Making the Band" (9:30 p.m. Friday, channels 7, 10 and 11), and he's loving every darn, bubblegum-rockin' minute of it.

Produced by MTV Productions, "Making the Band" is essentially "The Monkees" meets "The Real World." The premise? Cram eight fresh-faced, carefully coifed crooners into a posh Orlando house full of cameras and -- presto! -- watch them bloom into the "next big thing" under the watchful eyes of Louis Pearlman, the pear-shaped impresario who once controlled such boy wonders as 'N Sync and the Backstreet Boys.

But to spice things up even more, the producers turned the show into a boot-camp contest in which three guys will eventually get dumped, leaving a five-headed vocal group to go forth and scale the record charts.

"This might surprise you, but nowhere in the process did it become a cutthroat competition," Chan says with all the polished rah-rah cheeriness of a boy-band wannabe. "We all bonded so quickly. We were united by the music and the performances."

If that sounds a little weird -- and a lot of things about "Making the Band" do -- consider that production actually wrapped up several weeks ago, but because the elimination episode has yet to air, ABC has regathered all eight guys for a whirlwind tour of the talk-show circuit. Of course, none of them is telling who the three rejects are.

In addition to Chan, the roster includes Paul Martin, 21, of Clinton, Miss.; Mike Miller, 20, of Hackensack, N.J.; Trevor Penick, 20, of Rancho Cucamonga; Erik-Michael Estrada, 20, of the Bronx, N.Y.; Ikaika Kahoano, 21, of Honolulu; Jacob Underwood, 19, of San Diego; and Ashley Parker Angel, 18, of Redding.

"It's really been hectic," says Chan, who returned to his Santa Barbara home last week after a week in New York and then flew out again on Monday for another publicity blitz. "But it's also the best part of the whole deal. Hey, I got to meet Regis and Kathie Lee. How fun is that?"

Chan almost never got the chance. The UC Santa Barbara grad and member of the campus gospel choir has been working several years as an accounts executive for a special-events planning company. Last fall, a co-worker directed him to a Web site heralding the "Making the Band" auditions.

On the big day, though, Chan was working an event at the J. Paul Getty Museum while hundreds of preening hopefuls were gathering for tryouts near Universal Studios -- about 25 miles away.

"It was late in the day and I had just about given up on the whole thing," he recalls. "But I kept thinking about the words in the ad: 'Go ahead. What are you waiting for? Don't you want to be famous?'"

Chan did. So he made a mad dash to the audition site -- thank goodness for light traffic -- only to have his entry blocked by two doormen who informed him the tryouts were wrapping up.

But somehow Chan talked his way in ("Hey, part of my job is making sales!") and before he could clear his throat, they shoved a song list in his face and demanded instant vocal magic. He had to sing two songs -- one an old standard like "Silent Night" (no problem) and the other a radio hit from 'N Sync or the Backstreet Boys (big problem).

"I've heard those songs of course, but I didn't know any verbatim," Chan recalls. "So I sang the chorus of 'Tearing Up My Heart' by 'N Sync and just tried to fill in -- you know, blah, blah, blah. I basically butchered it. I knew I was outta there."

But, surprise, Chan was asked to hang around. Next thing you know, he was matching melodies in another audition in Las Vegas, where he learned he was part of the elite eight.

"My life has made a 180-degree turn since then," he says.

While dabbling in musical theater at Amador High School, Chan had visions of musical stardom. But he didn't exactly chase the dream. At UCSB, he majored in communications and marketing and saw himself as a future businessman.

Still, Chan has demonstrated a knack for versatile achievement throughout his life. He was an honors student in high school, where he also served as senior class president, competed in swimming and diving and went to nationals as part of the debate squad.

"I have a lot of spunk and attitude," says Chan, who was a big fan of Michael Jackson and New Edition while growing up. "I'm confident in my abilities."

Confident, sure, but Chan admits that he felt out of his element at times during the shooting of "Making the Band." He's the oldest member of the group, and it made for an interesting generation-gap dynamic.

"I felt like the big brother," he says. "It was the hardest adjustment for me. Most of these guys were getting their first taste of independence. We'd come home from a long day of rehearsals and a lot of them would immediately want to go out and party. But I'd want to wind down and hit the sack."

Chan maintains that had he been 18 or 19, he'd have been "right there with them." But, he says, "it wasn't just a case of less stamina. It's because I've been through that part of my life already. My focus is more narrow. This is my personal dream, and I didn't want any distractions."

As for the camera crews that constantly dogged them, Chan says the experience was strange at first, but he got used to it.

"You'd wake up in the morning and they'd immediately hook a microphone up on you, and we didn't take them off until we went to bed," he says. "If you wanted to do something like go to the store for some milk, you'd have to use what we called the Bat Phone and notify the production office. They'd say, 'Give us five minutes to set up the lights.' It's like you had this herd of people constantly following you."

Many critics have turned their noses up at the "Making the Band" process for its apparent artificiality and Easy Bake Oven-approach to the pop scene. But Chan, as you'd expect, is a staunch defender.

"All they're doing is streamlining the system, making it more efficient," he says. "If you think about it, it's really no different than what Berry Gordy and Motown did in the '60s with the way they groomed their stars."

Chan insists he wouldn't trade his experience for anything. He loves the attention he and his O-Town buddies get from screaming girls ("It's mind-blowing"), and he gets a kick out of how much his family back in the Bay Area is enjoying the ride ("My mom e-mails me every article").

"So I guess they're going to enjoy watching you on tour in the coming months?" I ask, trying one last time to see if Chan will slip up and reveal his in-or-out status.

"We'll have to wait and see," he says, laughing.

This is one young singer who just won't be cracked.