Jeff, Who Lives At Home (2011 dir. Jay & Mark Duplass)

Tubby Christ figure evokes miracles for blood relatives only.

3/5

The Artist (2011 dir. Michel Hazanavicius)

Europeans pay tribute to dead Americans without vocal chords or widescreen.

4/5

A Separation (2011 dir. Asghar Farhadi)

The Iranian version of How Clean Is Your House gets complicated.

4/5

One Day (2011 dir. Lone Scherfig)

A fuckfest many years in the making, underpinned by appalling television shows.

2/5

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (2011 dir. Stephen Daltry)

Splattered father helps weird son overcome shyness by making him hang out with the homeless in Central Park at night.

1/5

Killer Joe (2011 dir. William Friedkin)

Self-employed sheriff humiliates Jerry Springer guests with fast food.

3/5

Once Upon A Time In Anatolia (2011 dir. Nuri Bilge Ceylan)

Like a modern Stand By Me, with old Turks replacing all-Americans.

3/5

Take Shelter (2011 dir. Jeff Nichols)

Like Twister with all fun and flying cattle removed.

2/5

 

Win Win (2011 dir. Thomas McCarthy)

Tubby beta plays tubby alpha of non Hulksters.

2/5

Carnage (2011 dir. Roman Polanski)

Relationships come under strain due to projectile vomitting.

3/5

The Change-Up (2011 dir. David Dobkin)

Shit in mouth leads to lawyer wanting to swap perfect life with underachieving forehead.

2/5

Young Adult (2011 dir. Jason Reitman)

Whilst drinking Diet Coke and writing on an Apple Mac and taking calls on a Blackberry and eating in KFC, sociopathic scribbler tries to fuck ex boyfriend.

3/5

The Lincoln Lawyer (2011 dir. Brad Furman)

Quiet petrol-head ensures the streets remain riddled with human vermin.

3/5

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011 dir. Tomas Alfredson)

Frightfully well-spoken thesps drive audience to bemusement.

2/5

The Help (2011 dir. Tate Taylor)

Tell-tale book leads to rising unemployment amongst Tom & Jerry maids.

3/5

Hall Pass (2011 dir. Bobby & Peter Farrelly)

The hunt for different fuck partners saves two marriages.

2/5

The Raid: Redemption (2011 dir. Gareth Evans)

Multiple joints, bones and internal organs destroyed as cops dispense justice Syrian-style.

4/5

J. Edgar (2011 dir. Clint Eastwood)

Senior cop shouts less and kisses fewer men as further prosthetic flesh is stuck to his face.

2/5

The Cabin In The Woods (2011 dir. Drew Goddard)

New king of Hollywood makes a mockery of ancient horror flicks.

3/5

Real Steel (2011 dir. Shawn Levy)

Challenging champ without first entering sports montage sees bowlcut suffer defeat in Rocky/Terminator 2 rip-off.

2/5

Shame (2011 dir. Steve McQueen)

Hung Irishman releases countless sperm cells, then cries, to classical music.

2/5

Machine Gun Preacher (2011 dir. Marc Forster)

Violent builder takes dangerous vacation in Africa.

2/5

The Sitter (2011 dir. David Gordon Green)

Selfless Jew puts the lives of children at risk to aid mother’s fuck mission.

2/5

The Muppets (2011 dir. James Bobin)

Abominations save non-landmark with light entertainment.

3/5

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Stereo Typical’ (2011) by Rizzle Kicks

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

I do generally ignore hip-hop and dance music as genres, assuming that the majority of albums under these banners will be poor by default, so not worthy my time in writing about them. However, with Rizzle Kicks, I’ve decided to make an exception. It seems impossible to escape them and their terrible music. They have guested on other poor quality singles from the likes of Olly Murs, and have now made enough videos of their own to never be off the music channels and radio. Having captured my attention and invaded my life in the same way Bruno Mars did this time last year, I feel it my duty to explore their debut album ‘Stereo Typical’ in some depth.

These guys are two rappers from Brighton; there’s a couple of reasons right there to avoid their music at all costs. I have to say, the title is slightly misleading, as this is not a typical modern hip-hop record. With retro-sounding backing music underpinning light-hearted, unchallenging lyrics, it’s certainly unlike any other album of the same genre around today.

And therein lies the first problem. There are no big cars, no massive gold chains, no guns, no swearing, no lyrics humiliating women and rival gang members, just nothing fun or interesting. Sometimes I like a bit of escapism in music, and Rizzle Kicks fail to provide it here. There is no conflict or drama in their verse, only emptiness. It’s probably this kind of safe mediocrity that got them paired up with Olly Murs for the rubbish ‘Heart Skips a Beat’ single.

The song-writing is poor at the best of times, with bog-standard rapping permeating each track and ineffective stabs at melody coming during certain choruses. Rap affictionados often get up in arms when someone describes their beloved music as ‘just talking’, but in the case of this album, it really is the truth. Listening to clowns talk about their mundane lives over forgettable backing music is certainly not what I’d call compelling. To add to the misery, they keep reminding the listener of their band name in nearly every song. Trust me, I did not need to be told this so often.

Wankers: The music of Rizzle Kicks isn't as fun as they think it is

The (many) singles are practically as bland and forgettable as the filler fluff, a rarity in modern pop music, with the exception being the insufferable ‘Mama Do The Hump’. This song and title is so bad, it’s almost embarrassing to have to write. Simply one of the worst singles released in recent memory, as if to rub salt into the wounds of music lovers, it also featured a ‘hilarious’ cameo by that blubbery bastion of medicrity James Corden doing a funny little dance in the cheap-looking video.

I find the look of bemusement on the Kicks’ faces quite interesting on the front cover of this hour of crap music, as if they are asking themselves ‘why did so many people buy our singles and this album?’ It’s a question that beats me too. I’m sure it will puzzle music historians for years to come as well.

‘Stereo Typical’ is one of the worst albums ever made. It is a lifeless, mundane, boring effort that fails to do what it says on the tin, performed by two young wankers from Brighton lacking the musical talent and life experience required to make a passable hip-hop album. Take my advice – instead of listening to this record, get the same effect by playing some George Formby on the stereo whilst having a conversation with an old aunt or uncle on the phone, it’s probably less painful.