ONE, TWO, THREEEEEE!

Says Joe: "But we love it. We love hearing our fans go crazy."

In the music business, decibel readings are another metric by which an act can measure success -- or at least take a real-time heat check -- alongside album sales (1.4 million for 2007's "Jonas Brothers"), touring receipts (robust for the Brothers, whose upcoming concert Monday at 25,000-capacity Nissan Pavilion is also sold out) and the Billboard charts (a new JoBro single, "Tonight," entered the Hot 100 at No. 8 last week).

A new Jonas Brothers album, "A Little Bit Longer," will be released today and is considered a lock to open at No. 1 on the album chart.

They're the new rulers of the boy-band realm, even if they're atypical for a boy band, insofar as they play their own instruments and write their own songs and weren't brought together by some Svengali down in Florida. (So they're like the new Hanson, only with more than one hit.) Not bad for a band that was dropped by Columbia Records early last year, after the first album, "It's About Time," sputtered following its August 2006 release. It sold fewer than 65,000 copies.

The Jonas Brothers caught the ear of Disney executives and were quickly signed to the company's Hollywood Records division, which released the self-titled Jonas album last August. Seemingly overnight, the hydra-headed Disney beast -- with its reach into radio, network television, cable and film -- helped turn the brothers into multi-platform pop-culture sensations.

They're a band cum brand now, with a made-for-TV movie ("Camp Rock"), a scripted series ("J.O.N.A.S.," shooting this fall), a 3-D concert film (out early next year) and a multimillion-dollar touring deal with concert promoter Live Nation.

So when they end their pre-concert prayer circles by shouting, "Living the dream"? Totally not kidding. (And yes, there is a nightly prayer circle; Jonas Dad is a former pastor.)

" 'Living the dream' started as a joke, but now it's true," Kevin Jr. says. "It's really awesome. . . . We waited so long to have a tour bus, to have an audience to play in front of -- to have anything, really."

The trio began as a solo act, when Nick, who had been performing on Broadway since grade school, started to dabble in Christian music. The deal with Columbia followed -- as did Joe and Kevin Jr., who, at the label's behest, formed a secular pop band with Nick. In the meet-and-greet room, which has two exit doors just in case things get out of hand, two bodyguards and even more assistants are directing human traffic and collecting gifts for the Jonases: scarves, roses, a birdhouse, a home phone number scribbled on a card with an urgent request for Joe to please, please, please call. The Brothers are giving out hugs and handshakes and pats on the shoulder, and they giggle when a young girl blows right past them, sobbing uncontrollably as she continues out the door.

She's ushered back into the room to pose for a photo, but she can't even look at them. Too busy hyperventilating.

Outside the venue, it's clear that the Jonas Brothers are the greatest thing to happen to the fabric-pen business, ever: Just about every fan who isn't wearing an officially licensed JoBro shirt has made her own. (And yes, almost every single fan here is female, save for the fathers who were enlisted for chaperoning duty.)

"Kiss Me Joe," one hand-scribbled shirt says. And: "OJD = Obsessive Jonas Disorder."