Tag Archives: Music

1200th POST SPECIAL: Bieber to cover Bullseye themetune?

21 May

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

Is Justin Bieber about to record his first novelty single for charity? Reports are pointing towards the idea that the Canadian megastar will soon be entering the studio once again, this time to create a tribute to the beloved gameshow involving darts and spelling.

Mr Bieber, 14, came across an old episode of the Jim Bowen hosted program whilst in a London hotel room, and was reportedly ‘hooked’ from there on in.

The upbeat theme tune was of particular interest, and will now be redone using the finest modern studio trickery. Pianos will be provided by David Guetta, with lyrics written solely by Beiber himself. Whilst still in the early stages of planning, Bieber’s label is also keen to bring animated mascot Bully to a new audience and are exploring ways to display him in 3D in the upcoming video.

Sir Bowen: Nothing in this game for two in a bed

There were a number of reasons why Bieber was won over by Bullseye, which ran for over 3’000 episodes during the 80s and 90s on British television.

His publicist Richard Wilkes said: ‘Where do I start? Jim Bowen, the contestants, the prizes, the hairstyles, the moustaches and of course, the high-octane rollercoaster ride that is a game of darts!’

‘Bowen would always introduce his guests as a couple of characters, then enter into the most awkward banter as the contestants would display no emotion or personality, even after having their size and weight mocked on occasions. They’d have the worst jobs and hobbies, but bless him, Jim would always try and act excited.’

‘The prizes were stunning. Who wouldn’t make good use of a new cutlery set or fur coat? For the kids, there were electric cars and for the big wins, often speedboats and new wardrobes.’

‘The losers would not go home empty handed either. Cash, counted out live by Jim Bowen as if the studio was a highstreet betting shop, stuffed into beer glasses, along with a toy Bully, would be awarded to those bowing out early. Everyone was a winner.’

Iiiiiiiinnnnn one: Justin Bieber

And what of further speculation that a full concept album may follow, based on the final and most exciting round of Bullseye?

Mr Wilkes continues: ‘I’m afraid the idea of having a track for each one of Bully’s prizes was knocked on the head a few weeks ago. There simply wouldn’t have been enough there to fill an album of fourteen songs, which the studio demands.’

It is thought that the charity of Mr Bieber’s choice is the RSPCF – The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Foreheads. In keeping with Bullseye’s tradition, a miniscule amount of money will be donated, somewhere in the region of £130.00.

Bieber’s management is now apparently in talks with Jim Bowen’s ‘people’ to get the pair to team up for the youngster’s forthcoming world tour. Perhaps we will finally see Bowen performing his blue working man’s club humour where it rightfully belongs – in a stadium full of teenage girls.

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Up All Night (2011) by One Direction

13 May

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

Rating = 2/5

These five chaps were barely out of nappies when they set a new musical record for being the first British group to bag a number one debut album in America. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about and true to the norm of big-selling music in 2012, ‘Up All Night’ is a largely mediocre affair.

Like most Cowell releases, this is tonally uneven, trying to ensnare as many types of music fans as possible. It can’t make up its mind whether it wants to mop up the post-Westlife audience of sappy ballad lovers or fill dancefloors with heaving, sweating bodies puting their hayunds (hands) up in the air.

Lead single ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ kicks things off with a whimper, sounding like a rejected track from the Grease soundtrack. It also showcases perhaps this album’s greatest flaw; the terrible vocals. One Direction were put together from five inept youngsters on X Factor of course, who struggled to hold a single note even in their final performances on that show. Together, they create a weak, lifeless drone, neither distinctive or compelling.

‘Tell Me A Lie’ is my favourite track, with a steady build to a satisfying chorus, which is sadly let down by the pissweak vocals. This song could have been used to launch the career of a far worthy group or ‘artist’.

The song ‘Up All Night’ itself rips off the sublime non-hit ‘Always Something There To Remind Me’ by Tin Tin Out from the mid nineties, a song that was released when the member of 1D were probably in nappies at best.

‘I Want’ attempts to rock thing up with s kooky Beatles-esque intro and some obvious lead guitar. It doesn’t work as a song, nor is it something One Direction’s fans want to be listening to I would think.

The last few tracks pick up the pace, attempting to oust JLS it seems as the definitive knicker-wetting purveyors of dance floor anthems. Sadly the songs, underpinned by the lame vocals, are nothing special, yet still more listenable than the poor quality singles.

Overall, I have to admit there is some ok  song-writing on this record-breaking debut. It pretty much does what it sets out to do; coherse the pocket money from lonely, desperate and undemanding teenage girls.

Planet Pit (2011) by Pitbull

12 May

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

Rating = 3/5

Bearded dictators. Cigars. Poverty. Pitbull? Of course, I’m listing cultural traits of Cuba, home to a Mr Armando Christian Pére , better known by his stage name Pitbull.

‘Planet Pit’, his sixth album, is a solid near hour of satisfying club and sex anthems, recorded and produced by an army of the pop industry’s top figures, and executed with joyful abandon by the big Cuban himself.

The planet of Pit is a simple one, involving the acquisition of cash, Kodak cameras and females, whilst occasionally remembering where you came from. This album solidified Pitbull as the Cuban answer to Rod Stewart, offering a delightful array of catchy fuck anthems for the modern lothario to get on the floor to.

The first half is packed full of slamming floorfillers, which make way for a bit of diversity in style with the later tracks.

The singles are very impressive, particularly ‘Give Me Everything’, in which Pitbull playfully threatens to get down and dirty with your girlfriend if he’s given the chance. My favourite though is the unforgettable groove of ‘Hey Baby’.

Two ideals collide on ‘International Love’ as Pitbull duets with Chris Brown. Here, girl-licker and girl-puncher work together on another solid anthem, with Brown’s feminine vocals being used to splendic effect in the choruses.

Things get serious on the clumsily-titled ‘Castle Made of Sound’. Armed with only a piano, a drumbeat and self-reflective lyrics of regret and torment, it’s a rare three minutes in which Pitbull bares his soul, for once refraining from chasing skirt around the world.

All in all, ‘Planet Pit’ does what it says on the tin, and I look forward to hearing what the big Cuban and his garrison of associates can come up with next.

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Snowed In’ by Hanson (1997)

29 Apr

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

The late 1990s were great times. I was doing my GCSEs, didn’t have to work yet and still had aspirations.

The mornings of these years, specifically in 1997, were started with a dose of the Big Breakfast television show in which the superb Kelly Brook who every day seemed to fend off the unwanted sexual attention of her co-host Johnny Vaughan, a man a few years away from joining the bald community, struggling with the weight of his own chin. She had the teets and pins that would make her a future global superstar for doing nothing of worth whatsoever, and at the time, Hanson were launched on the UK like three mini Christs, taking the charts by storm with their splendid hit single ‘MmmBop’.

Hanson really were a big deal, so much so that Canada even spawned a rip-off group with the terrible Moffats. Suddenly pubescent white males that sang and played their own instruments were ‘in’, and ‘MmmBop’ turned out to be one of the finest songs of the decade to break big. Joyful, incomprehensible, rocking, it featured on the 1997 album ‘Middle of Nowhere’ which sadly wasn’t great. Also, in asking the listener to tell them who is still gay, it was quite edgy, lyrics-wise. I wonder if the phrase mmmbop itself was some kind of allusion to anal sex, but I digress slightly.

To capitalise on their instant fame, ‘Snowed In’ was hastily recorded in London and released in the same year. Featuring fourty minutes of terrible music, it was a novelty Christmas album, arguably the lowest of the low in the pop industry that few artists or bands have ever stooped low enough to put out.

‘Snowed In’ is one of the worst albums ever made, whatever the time of year. Featuring a mixture of awful cover versions and original material, it exists solely to suck the life out of any festivities that may be happening in December in the western world.

‘Merry Christmas Baby’ kicks things off, plagarising Deep Purple’s majestic ‘Maybe I’m A Leo’ along the way, a fatal error from the off. The only other notable riff is in the bog standard ‘Everybody Knows The Clause’ which is ok, at least by Hanson’s generally low standards.

Pretty much as soon as this record starts, all hell breaks loose, and not in a ‘Reign in Blood’ by Slayer kind of way. Ironic really for a band with a militant Christian upbringing.

‘Snowed In’ is a mixture of Hanson’s own inept compositions and woefully ill-judged cover versions of famous yuletide hits such as ‘Rockin Around The Christmas Tree’. The former are so wet and miserable it’s a wonder they weren’t featured on an episode of Eastenders, and the latter so over the top and overly serious that there is no enjoyment to be had from them whatsoever.

Hanson: Still gay?

Christmas, for most of us, is really about kicking back, watching some crap TV shows, getting some nice swag or cash and eating life-threatening amounts of food. When the classic Christmas songs start coming on the radio, those off us that got an education and don’t have to do shift work know that the countdown to the cash and calories has begun. Everyone including the original artists sort of know their December hits are a bit crap, but it’s part of a nice tradition now. The point is, they do not take themselves or their seasonal music seriously.

Hanson made this mistake, which leaves ‘Snowed In’ with no redeeming features whatsoever. Listening to it from beginning to end, as I’ve had to to write this article, was one of the most gruelling musical experiences I can remember. The music itself is terrible, but perhaps even worse, tonally wrong for the subject matter. It’s three young longhairs playing music more suited to men three times their ages. It’s crap.

The world of mainstream pop music in the noughties remained Hanson-free; I blame ‘Snowed In’. Maybe if they had waited at least another year or so after releasing the poor but cherished ‘Middle of Nowhere’, and followed up with a better album that was at least still cool from the perspective of teen girls, Hanson would have enjoyed a more substantial, longer-lasting career.

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

9 Apr

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.

“I’m well chuffed, guv” Olly Murs cleans up at 2012 Mediocre Music Awards

27 Feb

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

It seems that finally all the years of hard work have paid off for music sensation Olly Murs as the cheeky chappy has scooped a record bounty at the fifteenth annual Mediocre Music Awards (c).

The glamourous ceremony, held at Southend pier earlier in February, was hosted by Cilla Black and welcomed a host of A-list celebrity guests, including the cast of Brookside’s final episode, as well as Trevor and Simon of Live & Kicking Fame.

Mr Murs, 34, won the most mediocre male, most mediocre album, most disappointing dancing in a music video, most meaningless lyrics, blandest pop single and most unremarkable look awards, or ‘mediocries’ as they are known in the industry.

Murs: Officially mediocre

A final twist stunned onlookers as the X Factor reject also nabbed a special award for saying nothing of substance in any interviews whatsoever, a close contest between himself and TOWIE’s Amy Childs (who sadly could not be in attendance).

Mr Murs has gone on record to confirm that he is currently looking for a suitable builder to install an extra shelf in the shed at the bottom of Simon Cowell’s garden where he lives to house his enviable horde  of plastic Ms.

He said: ‘I’m over the moon and never expected any of these awards,’ before offering this reporter fruit and vegetables at very competitive retail prices.

So what next for Mr Murs, the man who seemingly has the music world at his feet? A hospital tour taking in every children’s ward in East Anglia, followed by several months off to record his next mediocre album ‘Apples And Pears To Heaven’, that’s what. You heard it here first.

Channel 4 finally secures rights to Frankie Cocozza autopsy

16 Jan

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

After a lengthy bidding war involving ITV2 and ITV4, Channel 4 has now been confirmed as the network that will be able to broadcast a live autopsy of hairy hellraiser Frankie Cocozza.

The X Factor reject is still alive, reports have confirmed, though with his lifestyle of excessive drug use and vaginal penetrations, many believe it is unlikely he will reach thirty.

Producers are hoping to involve Gunther von Hagens in the show. The German eccentric warmed the hearts of viewers recently by hacking up dead bodies and lining the studio with their internal organs on live television. He is reportedly asking for a fixed six-figure fee and a month’s supply of sausages.

Scalpel at the read: Gunther poses with his wife of 19 years

Rumours suggest the programme will be shown in three 2-hour episodes, the first two being the dissection itself and the third episode a spin-off hosted by Peter Andre and the cast of The Only Way is Essex.

Mr Cocozza, 27, garnered a huge fanbase after failing to hold even a single note on 2011’s series of the primetime singing contest.

He said: ‘The careful observers out there will know that I cannot sing or offer anything else in the way of employability, so I am grateful to Channel 4 for giving me the opportunity to contribute to medical science.’

‘Maybe after I am gone, scientists will finally know the secrets to how babies are made.’

Chuffed: Cocozza poses for fans outside a Brighton job center

Cheryl Cole’s knuckles ‘98% recovered’ from racist beating

28 Nov

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

The recovery process has been a long one, but finally after so many years it seems Cheryl Cole is set to make a full recovery from the night her left fist was used to beat a poverty-stricken nightclub toilet attendant senseless in January 2003.

The incident, which took place at Guildford’s Finger Bang Cobanna, left Mrs Cole barely able to hold a hairbrush properly, let alone a microphone.

The altercation occurred after Sophie Amogbokpa, who was three hours into her shift in the ground floor ladies toilets, took objection to wealthy pop stars taking her merchandise of perfume and lolipops without paying. A defiant Cheryl, tanked up on champagne and brown ale, made a stand with an impressive left hook to the struggling law student’s skull.

The impact left the Girls Aloud star with hairline fractures to her knuckles, and severe bruising for several months.

Injured: Cheryl nurses the fist on 12th Jan 2003 that nearly shattered Miss Amogbokpa's eye socket

An unnamed witness at the time said: ‘I’m so glad Cheryl’s record company was able to put her through so many dance and gym sessions, otherwise she may not have had the physical strength needed to defend herself against someone who was probably born into war and poverty and was simply trying to earn money to pay for her education.’

Mrs Cole, who at the time labelled her opponent a ‘black b*tch’, was convicted of ABH and ordered to serve a sentence of not buying a new handbag for thirty days.

She was also ordered to pay £0.55 for the lollipop that started the argument in the first place.

A spokesman for Mrs Cole said: ‘Cheryl has been under strict doctor’s orders now to not use her fist to physically assault any more black females.’

‘She has been through an ordeal but will soon be able to breakdance again.’

Pop Peelings wishes Cheryl a full recovery.

Frankie Cocozza ‘refuses point blank’ to eat greens at dinner table

21 Nov

By Slick Nick | @Poppeelings

Hairy hellraiser Frankie Cocozza, who was spectacularly booted from this year’s X Factor for behaving exactly how the show’s producers had marketed him to the public, has now sunk to a new low.

The Brighton teen, after returning home, has refused to eat his mother’s green vegetables that comprised part of her traditional family roast dinner.

The incident took place this Sunday in Mrs Cocozza’s Brighton flat, at around 19:00 GMT.

She said: ‘I served a traditional roast dinner for my son in good faith.’

‘No matter what I tried, he just wouldn’t eat the broccoli and peas that I’d cooked. He really has gone off the rails now.’

It should come as a surprise to no one that the college drop-out should behave with such crass disrespect; each weekend he has been spotted ‘hanging out the back of’ a different young slapper, as friends would testify to.

A spokesman for ITV said: ‘Of course, we’ll give Frankie all the support he needs to combat his demons. Right after this series of X Factor is over and we no longer need to use his debauchery for indirect PR.’

Sex face: Cocozza hasn't had a haircut since 1998

1 Year Anniversary: Hilarious Blog Search Terms

30 Oct

By Slick Nick

@Poppeelings

I’ve done this blog for one year now.

Blogging about such diverse topics as film, music, reality TV, more films and then even more films, the sheer variety of search terms used to find this dump is understandable. I really wish I didn’t have visibility of some of them though, such is my already low opinion of humanity and the general public. The shit below just makes me despair.

This isn’t all of the search terms, but the ones I found the most amusing.

The JLS stripper could do a good one, as he can’t sing or write music either:

‘marvin humes duck impression’

Can’t really argue with this one:

‘amy childs is thick as shit’

If she did, it must have been the London South Bank – the worst Uni in the country:

‘where did amy childs go to uni’

Straight to the point. Nice:

‘amy childs tits’

I think it’s a myth:

‘amy childs education’

Yeah, don’t believe everything you read. Especially on this blog:

‘amy childs guest lecturer 2005’

Show her some respect. Honestly:

‘amy childs pussy’

Well, you’ve come to the right place for that:

‘worst albums ever recorded’

For the sake of humanities continued evolution, I hope so:

‘does olly murs masturbate’

Rough estimate is fuck all:

‘olly murs net worth’

Why would anyone want to see that?

‘olly murs erection’

Ok this was another ‘interview’ I made up but I’m sure it was factually accurate:

‘olly murs wank interview’

Doubt it, not on a prime time ITV weekend show that’s supposedly about music:

‘olly murs x factor masturbate throughout’

Really? I’d say it’s hard work listening to his music, but that’s it:

‘olly murs makes me hard’

So why not try and meet him in person to put that proposal to him instead of typing it into Google?

‘i want to wank olly murs’

I’m sure if it was recorded, it would go to at least number three in the charts:

‘olly murs having a crap’

Olly Murs: Cunt?

Thank you. Another straight shooter:

‘olly murs is shit’

Good luck with that one:

‘olly murs erect’

Oh so you’ve heard his album as well?

‘olly murs fail’

That I would love to see:

‘ollie murs cock slip’

He’s a cockney, from Essex, with white skin. I wonder what the answer could possibly be:

‘olly murs ethnicity’

I’m sure he loves the Bugatti petrol money even more:

‘simon cowell loves olly murs’

Now hang on a second. this one just reaks of jealousy:

‘ron jeremy a piece of shit’

Ron Jeremy

Was it the photos of him oiled up and half naked that led to that conclusion?

‘aston merrygold gay’

I think a better question may be is anyone of them straight?

‘is anyone in jls gay’

Ok. Enjoy?

‘toilet roll wanking’

Don’t think this one works:

‘toilet roll albums’

If by ‘wanking’ you mean ‘sobbing’, then I’m sure he does it a great deal now:

‘matt cardle wanking’

Well they’re all crap, so go ahead and take your pick:

‘marilyn manson worst album’

I wouldn’t put it past them:

‘teen girls masturbate over one direction’

The front cover is the least of it’s problems. Poor Noel Gallagher:

‘dig out your soul is a shit album design’

Oh I cannot wait to join this group. I love watching twats standing around on a field for eight hours occasionally hitting balls around:

‘facebook friends cricket ground application’

Personally I think the pop charts now are the best they’ve been since around 1995:

‘wank pop’

I know this one was done on purpose, but it’s still pretty amusing:

‘slick nick america’s most wanted’

I literally cannot think of anything worse to do with my leisure time:

‘bognor regis butlins punk weekend 2012’

As opposed to softcore?

‘hardcore fucking’

Another Marilyn Manson fan perhaps?

‘erotic self crucifiction’

Don’t worry, Olly Murs can help you with that one I think:

‘severe case of blue balls’

Every word of this one made me do a lol:

‘jewish cowboy gay sex xposition’

Yep, two of the members appear to be:

‘n-dubz tits’

Probably the same reason people don’t like having someone shit into their ears; it’s unpleasant:

‘why do people not like mechanical animals’

Mechanical Animals: Like someone shitting in your ear

Fucking hell, make your mind up:

‘pics of jocks covered in shit -women -girls -milfs -panties -girl -she -babes -boys’

Sadly, one that isn’t switched off:

‘what microphone do they use on x factor uk’

You must have missed her video for ‘Wet’ then?

‘nicole scherzinger naked’

Didn’t know she owned any:

‘nicole scherzinger showing her knickers’

Give it a few years and maybe one will get released:

‘nicole scherzinger sex video’

Scherzinger: Respected artist

Bit of everything, I’d say:

‘nicole scherzinger ethnicity’

Ha! Good luck with that one. At least wait until she gets dropped from her record label in 12-18 months:

‘nicole scherzinger masturbtion video’

Calm down, there’s no hurry:

‘fuck women hardcore sex’

Hmmm… I guess the latest issue of Heat magazine has that covered:

‘famous+stars+shit’

Yes, I’m sure a song that was on daytime circulation non-stop during the summer had full frontal nudity:

‘when bruno mars pulls up his pants on lazy song does his weener pop out’

Do they even have video cameras over there? Wow, you learn something new every day.

‘turkish porn movie’

Can’t argue with that to be honest:

‘harry styles is ugly’

Pretty much all of them:

‘ugly photo of harry styles’

Ask any woman under 40 at the Colchester Whetherspoon’s pub for some details:

‘matt cardle penis’

Ask most the lads on the Chalk Farm estate for some details:

‘tulisa n dubz tits’

For the novelty, I have to say I wouldn’t mind seeing some of this:

‘turkish porn 1960’

Couldn’t bring themselves to write a rude word, even alone on the internet. How endearing:

‘stroking wee-wees’

Cher Lloyd? The walking skeleton? Whatever gave you that idea?

‘is cher lloyd anorexic’

I think the kids not looking their narrative ages is the least of the film’s problems:

‘in cheaper by the dozen how old are the kids supposed to be 2003 remake’

Um… Walt Disney? Just a hint:

‘animals saying things’

Ok:

‘movie hollywood premature ejaculation’

I thought they were in good shape due to coming here and working harder than British nationals. At least that’s what I read in the Daily Mail:

‘obese polish man’

I doubt images of hardcore fucking would be considered ‘pop’:

‘every second of deep throat turned into pop art’

Steve Brookstein, is that you?

‘simon cowell cunt’

Job-hunting? Well they say it’s a full-time job in itself:

‘joe mcelderry current job’

John Goodman, Rosanne, Michael Moore, Jack Black, Kevin James… these are educated guesses:

‘famous diabetics’

Kevin James: Loves his insulin injections

Love the politness here. I would have just seached ‘fat fuckers’:

‘heavy set couples’

Was that a Steve Martin flick?

‘fucking the bride’

I wonder what that film is about:

‘2 for 1 anal sex . . . starring: nora davis tags’

Three stone? Maybe four stone at the end of the day:

‘cher lloyd weight estimate’

I’d say it’s a given:

‘harry styles wanking’

Do you mean like giving them a bad mark on a paper? And not letting them out of class when the bell goes?

‘teacher fucking student’

Yeeeeeah so let’s write dumb things into the Google search bar!

‘yeeeeeeah it’s friday’

It's Friday!

Indeed. Fuck it. Fuck it in the ear:

‘fuck “aliens 3″‘

Spelling and decade fail here:

‘liam gallegher 1920 x’

X Factor boot camp ‘in lockdown’ after A-level suspicion

27 Sep

By Slick Nick

@Poppeelings

Controversy gripped the X Factor boot camp in London last night as it was suspected that one or more conestants were found to be in the possession of A-levels. The 10-storey dance studio and gym in Oxford Street was in lock-down whilst Syco executives investigated.

Insiders report that all budding singers were lined up against a wall and strip-searched to see if they had on them the A-level ‘certificates’. These items tend to be awarded to UK students for achieving a certain level of academic excellence.

The rumours of A-level possession surfaced when one contestant, a caucasian female in her early twenties, appeared to be well-spoken and polite, but had not used a gimick or sob story to get past the audition stage. X Factor researchers then made the shocking discovery that the girl in question had enjoyed a relatively stable upbringing underpinned by a happy home life.

Richard Wilkes, Senior Executive Vice Presidential Director of Important Stuff at Syco, was forced to step in and take direct action.

He said: ‘We at Syco Records will not tolerate the use or awarding of A-levels amongst our artists or contestants. It is strictly against Syco policy.’

‘Through years of painstaking market research, we have determined that what the pop consumer demands is not educated youngsters who have had stable lives in a loving, supportive family environment.’

‘If someone with A-levels were able to slip through the X Factor process and get a record deal, it could have a detrimental impact on sales. I might only be able to afford three holidays a year.’

Syco CEO Simon Cowell has stood by the policy for a number of years, stating that he doesn’t want to end up managing ‘another Blur or Radiohead’ who would likely make outlandish demands like time away from dance rehearsals to write music together.

Middle manager Louis Walsh is said to be ‘enthusiastic’ over the idea of further hourly strip searches just incase the previous ones could not unearth hidden A-Level certificates.

Academics: Not what's 'in' for record labels

The Worst Albums Ever Made – The Pop Videos Of David Hasselhoff

29 Aug

By Slick Nick

@Poppeelings

I would love to one day be able to write about a single Hoff album, keeping with the tradition of this blog category. Sadly, at the time of writing, I had blown my free Spotify hours for the month on Craig David, and surprisingly there are barely any seeders at all on Pirateybay.org for the Baywatch legend’s recorded material.

Having said that, after looking at some of David’s pop videos on YouTube, it seems his art is equal part visual spectacle. Seeing David perform these songs, as well as just listening to the music itself, is something I believe all aspiring music critics should put themselves through. It’s pretty hard to imagine how bad music can actually get until you’ve watched even just ten seconds of one of these videos. With that being said, I’m sure the following songs were featured on some of the worst albums ever made.

How could a man like this make bad music?

David has been a surprisingly prolific recording artist, given his TV star background. His first album came out in 1985 and he hasn’t really stopped since, much to the delight of his fanbase which encompasses German-speaking Europeans only. The singles began in 1989 and continued until the mid-nineties, where he had something of a hiatus, coming back with a bang in the mid-noughties.

I cannot imbed videos into my blog at this point in time, and I think to want to do so I would need a more worthy cause than David Hasselhoff’s music. None the less, I am happy to link to them below.

‘Looking For Freedom’ (1989) CLICK HERE TO SEE THE VIDEO

This appears to be the debut single/video in which David yearns for freedom after a very privaleged upbringing. The verses are not the song’s strong points by any means, so it relies heavily on its gospel-tinged power choruses to get by.

The whole thing is very eighties – including smoke machines and clips of Knight Rider, which are intercut or faded over David in quite an obvious and cheap-looking studio set. The set with the white trees and purple background looks like something out of a NEXT catalogue from twenty years ago and is therefore completely appropriate for this video.

Whilst the song is by no means a classic, it does showcase David’s very limited vocal range perfectly, and offers a relatively catchy chorus and dance beat.

You'll be looking for freedom too after enduring this

‘Our First Night Together’ (1989) CLICK HERE TO SEE THE VIDEO

This is more familiar territory – a mindfuckingly awful song, which also happens to be some kind of a duet with a quite unremarkable blonde. Terrible singing, both singularly and in partnership, underpin a tune-free bore. The chord changes in the choruses are far too ambitious for such a lifeless husk of a pop song as well.

David and skirt should have built the song up to end with some harmonies, but they don’t even bother to do that.

The video itself is an oddity; tonally uneven, and making little sense. There appears to be a camera crew in the narrative actually making the video as the viewer watches it. They start off in a car, then it jumps to the two leads in concert together, complete with David rocking hard with an electric guitar (probably not even plugged in). There only appears to be a few dozen revellers at the event though, which is a lot considering how bad the music is. It’s really as crap as an obscure Eurovision entry and not something I’d recommend.

The cover, rather than the single, helped album sales

‘Flying On The Wings Of Tenderness’ (1990) CLICK HERE TO SEE THE VIDEO

David gets serious here, with an ode to his one true love. Though since no other characters are present, I assume he’s really singing this to himself, clumsy metaphors and all.

It’s a very slow, tedious song with appalling lyrics, shameful for a man with such a sturdy liver as the Hoff.

To make matters worse, the video is very low budget and uninspired, with just David on his lonesome singing on the beach. Occasionally a shot of a goose in flight appears faded over David, which I think lessens any minute impact this might have had.

Finally, the title itself is a shocker. The more I read it, the more ludicrous it seems. It just makes no sense on any conceivable level at all, particularly when underpinned by the flying goose clips.

All the single and album front covers used the same photo

‘Crazy For You’ (1990) CLICK HERE TO SEE THE VIDEO

This is a light-hearted song, reminiscent of the Stocks, Waterman & Aitken guff that was around at the time. The chrous is remarkable only for ripping off ‘YMCA’ by the Village People. Out of all the hundreds of millions of recorded songs that had to be in existence in 1990, they could havw chosen a better one to copy than that one.

The song itself is very feminine; it could easily have sat on a Kylie Minogue album. Some of the images in the video are the opposite though, with David being seen riding a gigantic motorcycle. It’s an interesting juxtaposition probably lost on its audience at the time.

When David arrives at a fairground, off he gets from the bike and out pops a dog from a satchel, which then ends up pressing the ‘start’ button on the abandoned rollercoaster David has found himself on. I’d love to know what the fuck they were smoking when they imagined that as a concept. Why is the rollercoaster deserted in the first place? That just suggests that David is so unpopular as a recording artist, and he was, that he could clear leisure areas of humanity just by turning up there.

David is crazy for someone who seems to be returning the affection, so there is no conflict or heart in this song. It exists solely as a carbon copy of one of the shittest disco songs ever written.

Such a shame he's not currently making an album

The Worst Albums Ever Made: ‘Everybody Wants To Be On TV’ (2010) by Scouting For Girls

9 Aug

By Slick Nick

Last year, a teenage girl hit the headlines after willingly buying the Scouting For Girls album ‘Everybody Wants To Be On TV’ , one of the worst albums ever made. In a Pop Peelings exclusive, the girl, who we’ll call ‘Stacey’, and her mother, speak for the first time about the ordeal and how the family are coming to terms with those events.

We’re in Ruislip, Middlesex, a quintessentially British suburb on the outskirts of West London.

The home is a 4-bedroom traditional residence, with ample garden space. Family photos adorn ornament cabinets. One shows a young Stacey in a school uniform. She is a pretty girl, alive with the hopes and dreams of any middle class, spoilt 14 year old.

‘That was taken only a few weeks before…’ her mother begins, before stiffling the tears. Stacey’s father was still too distraught to take part in our meeting.

The distress that this record has brought upon an innocent family is painfully obvious.

Just terrible music

When we finally meet Stacey, she is almost unrecognisable from that photo. Youth barely penetrates the gaunt, haggered features in front of us. This is a girl that clearly hasn’t slept properly for the best part of a year.

She is clutching a wrinkled piece of paper. A red, blue and white picture adorns it. The colours fall way outside the lines.

‘That’s the front cover of the album she’s drawn,’ explains mum. ‘She’s done one of those every day for the last three months.’

Stacey suffers from what leading psychologists now refer to as SFG (Scouting For Girls) Withdrawal Syndrome. In layman’s terms, it is a severe psychological reaction to the sheer mundanity of the music as written and performed by Scouting For Girls. The few known cases have seen affected individuals withdraw almost totally from reality. The illustrating of the band’s album covers tends to happen in only the most severe cases.

‘I’m a good girl, mister,’ she begins. ‘Wanna hear the angels sing?’

She doesn’t make eye contact.

I politely decline. For research purposes, I am already well aware of how bad ‘Everybody Wants To Be On TV’ is. It is categorised as a pop record, which makes the distinct lack of melody in the ten songs all the more staggering. The production is deeply flawed, with instruments so heavily mixed together that decifering a guitar from a keyboard becomes an almost impossible task. In addition, the singing is worthless. Monotone and generic, the only emotion it evokes in the listener is that of seething, intense boredom.

The album wears its influences on its sleeve, evoking the music of U2, The Jam, Kaiser Chiefs and contemporary Green Day – all terrible bands in their own right, but certainly preferrable to Scouting For Girls. It’s hard to imagine a worse guitar pop group active in modern times [ unless Bon Jovi are still going? – ed. ].

SFG: How many more families will their crap music rip apart?

Until science can find a cure for her condition, Stacey must continue to live each day immersed in her own world in which nothing but Scouting For Girls exists. Until then, she will never know the simple joy of taking a dip in Highgrove swimming pool during the summer months, or the pleasure of getting fingered in the park behind the high street after a few refreshing cans of cider with friends. She will never know what it is to be normal.

So how does a mother cope with the actions of a daughter led astray by mainstream radio and a government that doesn’t care?

‘My daughter is not a bad person,’ she says. ‘She just has the worst taste in music you can possibly imagine.’

‘Now the whole family are paying the price.’

‘We take each day as it comes. We’re trying to rebuild our lives but it’s not easy when you have to listen to ‘This Ain’t A Love Song’ twenty times a day.’

I can only offer my sympathies to this once wholesome middle class family. Now the lilac walls of their safe, comfortable abode will be forever spoilt with the echos of Scouting For Girls.

NON EXCLUSIVE! Rejected Nicole Scherzinger sex song titles uncovered

8 Aug

By Slick Nick

@Poppeelings

Pop music fans were left appalled last night at the rejected ideas for Nicole Scherzinger songs, revealed by an ex-employee of her management company.

The 43-year old temptress portrays a risque image at the best of times, but these sexually explicit concepts are thought to push the boundaires even for her.

Titles such as ‘I am Here To Be F****d’, ‘Begging For Manmeat’, ‘Ten Things I Want To Do With Your D**k’ and ‘Play With My P****’ were proposed for her debut album ‘Killer Love’ which was released earlier in the year to largely indifferent reviews.

Filth: Half naked snaps increase record sales

The song titles were uncovered when ex-associate Richard Wilkes, 50, forwarded emails from the time of the album’s recording to news editors around the world.

Wilkes was asked to leave the independent music management company Pop Sluts Inc. in April this year after failing to provide enough baby oil for one of Miss Scherzinger’s video shoots.

He said: ‘When I saw these depraved ideas, I thought it was some kind of joke.’

‘Then I saw the look in Nicole’s heavily made-up eyes, a look of sheer lustful hunger; I knew she was deadly serious.’

So how does he feel about the turn of events?

‘It’s a shame we’re no longer working alongside each other but frankly, with the money I’ve earned cashing in on my story, I won’t need paid employment for at least another 14 months.’

Nicole Scherzinger’s latest video can be found playing in most teenage boys’ rooms to accompany their masturbation sessions.

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Anthem’ (2003) by Less Than Jake

11 Jul

By Slick Nick

I’ve been listening to punk bands since 1999, and it’s hard to think of a more worthless sub genre of music than ska punk. Replace any semblance of creativity in a pop punk band with trumpets and colourful shirts, and what presents itself is an irritating and generally unpopular style of music. A record label’s ska punk band/s will almost always be their lowest sellers, regardless of whether the label is an independent or a major.

Being a ska punk album released in the worst ever decade for rock music, I was expecting ‘Anthem’ to be a shitter. The fifth studio album by Less Than Jake (LTJ) doesn’t disappoint in that respect, being one of the worst albums ever made. Appropriately, this was also the Florida band’s return to a major label.

Given their kerazy live show reputation and cartoony album artwork, on record LTJ are actually surprisingly dull. Listen to any Greenday or Blink182 album, and music-wise the entire span of the band’s creativity will be more than covered. Listening to ‘Anthem’ in 2011 as I have done for this post is quite a mind-numbing experience.

A band doesn’t need to be as skilled as Rush in terms of music to keep me entertained, but they damn well better have some killer hooks to lead their songs if they claim to be a pop punk group. ‘Anthem’ not only lacks tunes, but the one or two it does have sound very familiar. A well-trained ear isn’t really required to discover that the melody lines tend to follow the same path from song to song. I am sure reading the sheet music to this record would evoke multiple feelings of de ja vu.

LTJ have two vocalists who tend to share singing duties from song to song – a rarity in rock music. Guitarist Chris Demakes isn’t too bad, in a generic sort of way, but bassist Roger Manganelli really flops on this album. His lead vocal on second single ‘The Science of Selling Yourself Short’ is poor; whiny and irritating, it barely holds the tune together. Incidentally, this song features some of the very sparse proper ska/raggae moments on the album.

Roger: A dreadlock for every time his singing has annoyed me

Speaking of singles, ‘She’s Gonna Break Soon’ really is the pits. I remember when it first came out and was never off the music channels, much to the annoyance of my younger self. I could easily ignore the band’s music but not when this shitter came out. The song really is the crappest, barrel-scraping generic, throw away pop-punk garbage imaginable. It’s also quite a cynical stab at marketing, highlighting their target demographic (tedious angsty teens) lyrically and visually in the song. It makes Papa Roach’s ‘Last Resort’ video look subtle and profound.

Finally, as a ‘bonus’, and I use that word very loosely, LTJ offer a breakneck, inferior cover version of Cheap Trick’s majestic ‘Surrender’. The charm in the original was the melody and the fucking immense, crunchy old guitar sound. It doesn’t work as a 2-minute pop punk song. It just rubs salt into the wounds of the listener; the band have to spoil a good song as well as delivering a miserable album of their own terrible compositions.

I find LTJ’s releases in the wake of ‘Anthem’ quite amusing. Obviously they had blown their creative load on these crap songs, so the next release labelled ‘B Is For B-Sides’ was an album of outtakes from the ‘Anthem’ sessions. Songs too crap for even that album must be beyond worthless. Next came a live album, before they remixed the B-sides album for ANOTHER release. It beggars belief that these fellas grew up in the punk rock scene.

Materials found being used for bedding in the LTJ tour bus in 2009

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Olly Murs’ (2010) by Olly Murs

28 Jun

By Slick Nick

There is an Olly Murs in every school, every university and every office in the UK; a tiresome, annoying self-centered twat who you dare not get on the wrong side of for fear of being socially ostracised. By no means evil or unpleasant, they can never the less make life hell in so many other ways.

Despite being average-looking, having nothing of interest to say and wearing unremarkable highstreet clothing, they somehow draw people to them like moths to light. Resisting the light will prove controversial, since every conversation or gathering will revolve around this individual, effectively a conversational blackhole, sucking all matter into it that may be even slightly interesting in favour of what the Murs figure may be doing or not doing.

Thanks to Simon Cowell, one of these cheeky chappies was given a record deal, which meant even escaping into a car and puting the radio on presented a confrontation with the mundanity of their existence. The result is ‘Olly Murs’, an album featuring the best part of an hour’s worth of crap music.

Murs came second to Joe McElderry in 2009’s X Factor, arguably the shittest winner in the show’s history, and that’s saying something. This album is described as his ‘debut’, but that suggests a long discography is to follow. I really think, and hope, that this album alone will span Murs’ entire recording history, for the sake of pop music.

Upon first listen, the one thing that stands out alongside the staggering mediocrity is how tonally uneven the material is. It lurches from anthemy pop, to raggae, to sappy ballads. It’s like if a Leona Lewis song suddenly dropped in a thrashy guitar solo.

Looking at the chart positions of the four singles from this illustrates perfectly how fickle the British single-buying public are, and also what a missfire it was on Cowell’s part for launching Murs as a recording artist. Single one was a UK number one. Single four didn’t even make the top 40.

Cunt: Murs glimpses his net worth as a musician in 2011

Hit single ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’ begins with an old radio effect, which is quite creative for a SYCO release, before stumbling into very dated-sounding raggae pop. I remember Murs being described by Cowell as ‘unbeleivably current’ at his first audition. True – nothing says 2011 like aping the chart music of 1993. It’s not quite as forgettable as the rest of the album but is no Aswad.

Follow-up ‘Thinking Of Me’ is more of the same, but worse.

Murs has a stab at warbling during the closing moments of ‘Heart On My Sleeve’, where things get a bit more serious. It reminds me of the modern Take That. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the army of song-writers and producers that worked on Murs’ atrocity had also spent time in the studio with Robbie and Gary et al. Speaking of the legendary boyband, there was also some serious bro love going down between Murs and Robbie Williams at the time of the X Factor live finals, which saw the two irritants perform an extremely mediocre duet together. This probably carefully spun PR between the managers of Murs and Williams stopped just short of the two sucking each other off on stage, but I digress.

Lyrically, the album sinks to a new low with ‘Busy’. Reminiscent of Bruno Mars, it uses the Beatles’ ‘Let It Be’ chord progression, as does ‘Don’t Say Goodbye’. Considering the album had 20-30 people contributing to the music, it’s unacceptable to use this riff on two songs from the same album. It really bugs me how often these chords are used, in pop and rock, and is just illustrative of unoriginal, lazy song-writing. Unsurprisingly, both of the efforts on this album are terrible.

Hold onto your sides: This illustrates visually the points made in paragraphs 1 and 2

Surrounding the four singles, which never get better than way below mediocre, is a lot of filler fluff that barely registers. It’s certainly not worth writing about, apart from noting that Murs as a singer leaves a hell of a lot to be desired.

Finally, the whole Murs persona on television and in the media really winds me up. There is an air of undeserved smugness about him, as if he has always been fully aware that he has fuck all to offer the world of popular music and is completely talentless. I hope everyone involved with his album, from Cowell to the song-writers, to the producers, even down to the intern that did the photocopying for marketing, are thoroughly ashamed of themselves.

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Brain Drain’ (1989) by The Ramones

21 Jun

By Slick Nick

It was the year 2000, Christmas day. The world would soon be partying. He had more important things on his mind.

The last few months had been a journey, a musical one. The days of only listening to Oasis and Prodigy albums seemed long gone. It was a thirst for loud, fast guitars and catchy melodies that drove him towards the burgeoning CD rack now.

He’d been studying hard as had his college friends – the A Levels would not pass themselves, after all.

Gotta have the A Levels so you can go to University, get a good job, nice home in the suburbs, Ford Mondeo, two kids…

It was a future within arms reach, and he’d be taking punk music along for the ride as well. Bands like Greenday, Offspring, Rancid and most treasured of all, The Ramones. These bands would never make crap music, would they?

He sat in his bedroom, Nesquik in hand, surverying this year’s payload from good ol’ Kris Kringle. Bad Religion’s ‘Suffer’ and ‘Generator’ albums lay at the side of the desk; they could wait. ‘We’re Outta Here’, the final Ramones show, sat close by in compact disc format; he’d bide his time, savour the rest of their discography, before enjoying that one. What he really wanted to do was play ‘Brain Drain’, their 1989 studio album he’d just recieved. The disturbing cover was alluring, and suggested an unforgettable listening experience. He couldn’t wait.

Merry Christmas.

He knew little of the band’s story but took simple pleasure in their early work. These short, catchy punk songs struck a bar chord with him. He’d always have the Ramones on when writing psychology essays.

He removed the seal of ‘Brain Drain’ and placed the CD in the stereo, a cheap device that would surely struggle to cope with the power of what would be unleashed. If the Ramones were close to the bone in the seventies, how extreme would they have become by the late eighties?

He pressed ‘play’.

A strange sensation washed over him, strange because he’d never felt it before whilst playing a Ramones album. It was a feeling he only got whilst listening to extremely shit music.

It’s punk, Jim, but not as we know it.

He laughed out loud at the thought. The eighties drum sound was unavoidable, but the problems ran far deeper into the heart of the album. It was fundamentally bad song-writing.

Opener ‘I Believe In Miracles’ was far too slow to begin a Ramones album, sounding tired and old compared to the likes of ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ years earlier. ‘Don’t Bust My Chops’ suffered from a distinct lack of melody. Years of alcoholism had taken its toll on Joey Ramone’s vocal chords; his singing was barely acceptable on this recording.

He continued to listen, hoping no family members would overhear. If Dad caught him mid way through ‘All Screwed Up’, he’d never live it down, especially after he always gave the old man such a hard time over his ‘shit’ music collection.

Would kill for some Mark Knopfler or Fairport Convention about now though, wouldn’t you?

He hit the ‘stop’ button and snatched the CD out of the stereo, recoiling as the cold, lifeless plastic touched his trembling hand. Yes, this was definitely a Ramones album. There had no been a mistake at the packaging plant. He longed to cast this monstrosity aside and never think about it again, but that was never an option.

‘I must finish what is begun.’

The second half began with ‘Pet Semetary’; disappointing book, terrible film, underwhelming song.

‘Learn To Listen’, despite its crappiness, reminded him of the early Ramones material. At a merciful length of 1.51, it was too little, too late.

He took a sip of Nesquik, wincing at the sweetness. He’d earned it.

‘Comeback Baby, Comeback’ was the album’s absolute low point. He’d only read about songs like these in Stephen King books. He never thought one would cross hs path for real.

Why are they being sexy? They’re not a sexy band, they’re not a…

Silence.

‘Merry Christmas I Don’t Want To Fight Tonight’ had faded out, closing the album, reminding him of Cliff Richard, making him realise what the season was all about. Family. Eastenders. The birth of Christ. It was not about bad music, at least not in unlicensed residential premises.

He returned the CD to its case. He stared one last time at the cover, the cover that promised so much.

He placed it in the CD rack, a giant plastic prison from which it would never escape. Many layers of dust would cover it in the years to come.

Lunch was ready. Time to join the family. They’d ask him what he’d been doing for the last 35.01 minutes. He wouldn’t say. The memories of the morning would only linger in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind.

He had hoped the events of that morning, where he sat through one of the worst albums ever made, would never be re-lived. Then a blog was created, one with barely any readers, that had a category covering terrible music. He knew what he had to do.

Merry fucking Christmas.

END

GUEST ARTICLE: Gender And Society Within Early Craig David

12 Jun

Guest article by Professor Montgommery Sloan Barnicoat-Fucknozzle III Phd. MA. OBE – esteemed fellow of the arts at London South Bank University. This is the 37th chapter of 145 from his world-renowned thesis.

Class dismissed: Another legendary lecture by Barnicoat-Fucknozzle III leaves the students in awe

Craig David, arguably the driving force behind the UK neo-disco movement of the latter twentieth century, left behind a body of work that many well-known academics have assessed and written quite furiously about.

The spectacle of David’s work on a purely aesthetic level is never less than compelling, with soulful vocal melodies underpinned by a raw, tribal percussion that evokes memories of a mid-career Grandmaster Flash. His sexually-charged canticles of urban adolescent ambition resonate, and resonate hard; even my most gifted students, as well as fellow academics, remember exactly where they were the first time they heard ‘7 Days‘.

What makes David’s art such a rich tapestry for intellectual inspection are the generous subtexts that accompany much of his more abstract work. He presents us with an ambiguous picture of sexuality, literally depicting himself in photographs as something that screams ‘male’, yet at the same time utilizing a pleasant falsetto vocal that is anything but masculine.

Arguably David’s most discussed and dissected recording is 2000’s debut ‘Born To Do It‘, whose very title encourages the listener to think subtly about sex right from even before their gramophone’s stylus makes contact with the record itself.

Inspired: The album that ushered in the age of UK neo-disco

Opening lead single ‘Fill Me In‘ is structured around a garbled, chaotic narrative recounting an experience David appears to have had with an unfaithful girlfriend in which he challenges her fidelity. The chorus is beseiged by a request from David to an unknown individual to ‘fill him in’, thus dividing critical thought as to whether he is simply looking for an answer, or longing subconsciously to take part in the physical act of love with a willing male counterpart.

Gender and sexuality permeate all of David’s work relentlessly, encouraging the listener to question what the singer’s real feelings are towards women. In David’s world, women are merely playthings, objects whose use is purely for sexual gratification. These misogynistic leanings stem from the mind of someone who does not understand women, really has little interest in them and arguably fears them.

Confused: Physically distant from and emotionally cold towards quality skirt?

Though much of David’s commercial success is built on intense pressure from fans and peers to be seen as something of a ‘ladies man‘, there is a deep-rooted sexual conflict here which manifests itself beneath the surface of his compositions. Single ‘7 Days’ presents an almost dystopian view of femininity whereby a female will give up her mating resources within 48 hours of meeting a suitor, with virtually no challenge. She does not appear to be in paid employment and is undoubtedly not attending a recommended academic institute; the justification for her whole existence is merely to satisfy men sexually after bintercourse. This is not a song written by someone with a respect of, or admiration for, feminist issues or gender equality.

Evidence of a lengthy battle between heart and mind is apparent in the heart-warming ‘Bootyman‘, melodically a pastiche of a song from children’s psychological horror film Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory. This innocent facade juxtaposes heavily with David’s apparent thoughts of anal sex, and thus traces it back to the time in David’s childhood or very early adolescence where he first began to view male friends as more than simply academic counterparts. Floor-fillers they may be, however David’s material is fraught with the guilt and needless shame of a strapping young man wrestling with a sexual identity crisis.

David in 2011: The workload of the last decade has obviously taken its physical toll

On a later single, David appears to reach some sort of catharsis. ‘Walking Away‘ defiantly casts aside the vehement heterosexuality forced upon him by society and demotes women and sexual relationships with females to mere trifling matters that can be escaped quite easily. Finally, the words of a truly proud homosexual, spoken from a prime male specimen.

This article has been re-printed with kind permission from the Southbank University coffee shop toilet attendant.

American Graffiti (1973 dir. George Lucas)

2 May

Accompanied by rock ‘n’ roll standards, Han Solo loses prototype pod race to near paedophile in innocent times.

3/5

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010 dir. Edgar Wright)

26 Apr

Like Juno replaced unplanned foetus with bullet-time, and character sympathy for even worse music.

2/5

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Come Clean’ (2001) by Puddle Of Mudd

2 Apr

By Slick Nick

If there’s one thing this bandd will go ddown in history for, it’s teaching the masses (or maybe just their impressive 9815 Twitter followers) that ddoubling the letter D in things ddoesn’t make them any better, for example Puddle Of Mudd’s name and song-writing ability.

These chaps were part of the ‘nu grunge’ phenomenon that polluted rock charts during the late 90s and noughties – a genre that when dissected really means ‘to want to be like Nirvana whilst actually presenting music that is a million times shitter.’ Thus, Puddle Of Mudd brought these 13 or so crap songs to the table in 2001 and in doing so, effortlessly crafted one of the worst albums ever made.

Merely six seconds into opening single ‘Control’ and one thing becomes tragically clear; listening to this album will be as interesting as watching paint dry at a bus stop. Anyone that has been listening to rock for even a couple of years will likely have heard all these riffs in far better songs by other bands.

‘She Hates Me’ is another mindfuckingly awful single, sounding like a rejected song from Grease and quite unwelcome in an album that is fundamentally slow, grungy butt rock. Given how  different and obviously commercial it sounds compared to the other songs on the record, it just screams of gimick-single-to-get-band-on-the-radio, so much so that it makes Offspring’s noughties work look like fucking Despised Icon by comparison. Appalling.

Perhaps, given the overall listening experience, the most accurately-titled song on here is ‘Bring Me Down’. Its only point of note is the attempt at a tempo change that underpins a middle eight, but executed by musicians as talentless as Puddle Of Mudd, the piece is just clumsy and awkward, like admitting you watch Loose Women without irony to a small group of friends.

The final single ‘Blurry’ is passable I’ll admit, with some enjoyable moments. Apparently about the end of frontman Wes Scantlin’s marriage and not getting to see his kid, it’s the heartfelt tale of a woman not wanting her only child to be associated with a sub-par Kurt Cobain wannabe, and no one would blame her. Poor lyrics do undermine this tolerable pop song though.

Scantlin: 'I've written this many crap songs today.'

Considering how shit this music is, and how underwhelming the lead singles are, I did start to wonder what on earth any respective A&R professional would deem worthy enough in this band to invest valuable time and money in getting them on the music channels and into the music collections of people that like extremely crap songs. Delving into the Mudd biography it all became crystal clear – this lot were signed to Fred Durst‘s label for their big break. No further explanation is necessary after uncovering that nugget of music trivia, considering Durst is a man seemingly hellbent on bestowing the world with as much bad rock music as humanly possible.

Puddle Of Mudd have managed to sell a mind-boggling number of records, stretching into the millions. I’d love to meet a genuine fan of the group to ascertain what made this music good enough to purchase. Is it the boring guitarring? The excitement of the slow, ploddy music relentlessly executed in that barely explored 4/4 time signature?  The memorable lack of melody? The mediocrity of Scantlin’s entirely derivative vocal delivery? Perhaps I will never know. But one thing I do know for certain is that if an individual even has a single Nirvana MP3 in their music collection, it pretty much makes this group’s complete discography entirely fucking pointless.

‘She [metaphorically representing people that enjoy good music] fuckin’ hates me.’

Nickelback are the greatest band of all time

26 Mar

By Slick Nick

It really bothers me when so many crap bands get all the attention, acclaim and interest from the general public whilst the most important visionaries often get overlooked. Nickelback, a band I rarely go a day without listening to at least once, sadly fall into the latter category. I want to change this and open minds (and ears!) to the glorious majesty of Nickelback’s recorded output and highlight some of their more significant career moments.

Debut album ‘Curb’ starts rock ‘n’ roll

Many bands had attempted to play in a musical style that we now know as rock ‘n’ roll, but Nickelback were the first group to put electric guitars, bass guitars and drums together all at the same time in a recording studio. This revelation in 1996 left the world with the album ‘Curb’, a record years ahead of its time, almost too far ahead of its time. Though largley dismissed as ‘crap’ upon release, the album quickly developed a cult following and would go on to influence the likes of Buddy Holly, The Beatles, Slayer, Black Flag and Enya. Led Zeppelin in particular would highlight the album’s heavy blues-based riffing as a major inspiration.

Frontman Chad Kroeger turns out to be Jesus Christ

Whilst crafting the follow-up album to ‘Curb’, Mr Kroeger went on record in a number of magazine and television interviews to confirm that he was in fact the reincarnation of popular Christian figurehead Jesus of Nazareth. Though these claims were unsubstantiated at the time, eventually someone came forward with an artist’s impression of the original Christ in a children’s Sunday School pamphlet. Upon comparing this document with an image of Kroger in Metal Hammer magazine, the likenesses were deemed too similar for the story to not be 100% true. With such a significant figure in western civilisation at the helm, there was now no stopping Nickelback from achieving their first hit single.

‘Leader Of Men’ tops charts in all Christian nations for 2 years

With the power of a Demigod coarsing through his veins, Kroeger was able to craft the group’s first of many super smash hit singles. ‘Leader Of Men’ from legendary album ‘The State’ topped the charts in every western country for two years straight, a record that remains unbroken to this day. Manufacturers could barely keep up with the demand, forcing label Roadrunner Records to move production to a gigantic Chinese labour camp. At least seven deaths are known to have occurred there amongst staff quite literally worked until their last breath to cope with the ever increasing record sales.

Pictured below is a queue  of Nickelback fanatics outside Oxford Street’s HMV store, 68 weeks after the single’s initial release. Scientists even made the discovery of a copy of ‘Leader Of Men’ (albeit in an unlistenable condition) amongst the property of an Amazonian tribe thought to be completely untouched by civilization.

The song ‘Never Again’ ends all domestic abuse and wins Nobel Peace Prize

The classic album ‘Silver Side Up’ was notable for being a music scholar’s dream, effectively a rich tapestry of musical ingenuity, creativity, originality and feeling. Opening single ‘Never Again’, though lyrically drenched in metaphor, still delivered the message that the world (apart from Scotland) could relate to; that hitting women square in the face is a pretty bad thing to do.

The song tells the story of an abused wife from her son’s point of view. Kroeger compares the living room to a ‘boxing ring’, poignantly reminding the listener that punches also get thrown in said ring. The antagonist is then berrated by the singer, underpinning a stunning middle eight. From that point onwards, no women were ever beaten to a pulp by their male fuck partners ever again.

The Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to the band in a two-hour ceremony three minutes after the single’s release, culminating in the trophy itself being passed to the eager hands of Kroeger by Frank Bruno.

Dark Horse album recorded in a single take

Finally, the most recent page of musical history written by Nickelback came with the ironically-titled 2008 album ‘Dark Horse’, a record notable not only for its stellar song-writing, but also the manner in which it was made. Broadcast on the internet for the world to see, Nickelback laid every track down in order in a single take, making no mistakes whatsoever. Absolutely no over-dubbing or other studio trickery was used. The songs went into the pressing plant the very next day. Fans were left with what was essentially a live album that sounded just as over-produced and watered down for the radio as anything else in the charts with a guitar.

So what next for the band that has apparently done it all? The plethora of unauthorized Kroeger biographies are keen to speculate, however I am content to remain patient with the music I have of theirs knowing that whatever comes next will undoubtedly be life-affirming and massively superior to anything else around.

How could it not be, considering Nickelback are without a doubt the greatest band to ever set foot in a recording studio?

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘The Black Parade’ (2006) by My Chemical Romance

19 Mar

By Slick Nick

If I want to listen to retro rock, I may delve into my immense iTunes library and put on a bit of Journey or Cheap Trick. If I want to hear a bit of generic pop-punk then Blink182, Midtown or Lit usually does the job. If I want to listen to some piano-driven pop that uses minor sevenths, some Paul McCartney hits the spot. Then, if I fancy hearing some terrible singing, I’ve been known to enter ‘X Factor shit auditions’ into YouTube’s search bar. Luckily, if I ever want to hear all that at once, I can turn to this 2006 release by My Chemical Romance, one of the worst ‘alternative’ bands to make it big in the noughties.

After starting their career as a pretty bog-standard pop-punk group with a slightly different sound to all the billions of Greenday/NFG clones, something triggered MCR to become ‘artists’ rather than ‘dudes prolonging the inevitable despair-ridden office-driven existence by being in a band’. They started pulling in a plethora of musical influences largely favoured amongst the Dad community, whilst still underpinning their music with the generic, twenty year old riffs that all their peers had been using all along.

The Black Parade‘ is supposedly a concept album about someone passing away due to cancer, which is enough to put me off even playing it in the first place to be honest. I’m pretty sure in modern times, naming something as a ‘concept album’ is simply a way to protect bad music from harsh critics, who wouldn’t understand what these artists set out to achieve.

Musically, it’s not too far off from the likes of Cheap Trick and Kiss, if the former forgot how to write good songs and the latter wrote even worse songs. There’s also some masturbation over the likes of Lennon and Bowie, which is to be expected, and at least the songs do have one consistent quality running through them in that they are all for the most part total dogshit, particularly the lead singles.

The music is generally staggeringly mediocre at best. It’s not that catchy, it’s not that heavy, it’s not that fast. It’s just there to bolster camp, shrieking monstrosity Gerard Way’s irritating-as-fuck vocals, whilst ripping off Queen‘s harmonic guitar sound. Chord changes can be predicted a mile away, which leaves the album as tedious as wading through a thread about Blade Runner on an internet forum, which is in itself only slightly more tedious than watching the actual film I might add.

Hit single ‘Welcome To The Black Parade‘ was notable only for the music video, which looked to have cost the GDP of Paraguay to make and saw the group dress up as the evil sports jocks from the first Karate Kid movie, an idea that will surely be regretted by everyone involved for the rest of their lives. It’s an interesting song which opens with a minute or so of this album’s few bars of tolerable music, before delving into the group’s roots with an interlude of shitty pop punk before building to an irritatingly over the top chorus seemingly hellbent on ripping off their own breakthrough hit ‘I’m Not Okay (I Promise)’.

MCR rough up a fan for not paying for autograph backstage at the London Astoria in 2006

Other single ‘Teenagers’ is far worse; the kind of garbage you’d expect to be playing at the end of an Adam Sandler movie.

Aside from the music, one of the worst things about MCR is watching their press interviews. The band take themselves very seriously considering their childish, stage-school schtick, and hearing them dissect their own body of work and influences you’d think they’d just released the next fucking Sgt. Pepper or Nevermind. This behaviour, from a group that featured Lisa Minnelli on one of their songs, is fucking laughable.

 

We’ll caaaaaaarrrryyyyyy oooonnnn, we’ll wriiiiiiiiiiiiite shit sooooo-oooooongssssss.

 

Government quango confirms Steve Brookstein’s popularity to be ‘equal to that of The Wurzels’

13 Mar

By Slick Nick

A new government body (which was promised By Nick Clegg to not be going ahead but exists anyway) determined to uncover the great mysteries of popular music has confirmed what many insiders had suspected for years – that Steve Brookstein’s popularity is equal to that of classic alternative rock act The Wurzels.

The frequent performer to half-empty coffee shops won the 27th series of the X Factor back in 2004 and enjoyed a week-long record deal before being dropped by Song BMG. It is now thought that the total amount of time spent listening to his music by the British public is exactly the same for the entire discography of Sommerset’s favourite sons.

The latter group shot to fame in 1976 with chart-topping hit single ‘The Combine Harvester‘. Their subsequent 43 albums largely covered themes such as cider, muck-spreading and incest, yet failed to enjoy a mainstream fanbase.

Brookstein, 63, pictured below in the backstage area at Ealing Broadway’s Starbucks last Thursday, was said to be pleased with the report’s findings, suggesting it may be one of his greatest musical achievements.

Will sing for a vanilla bullshit thing

He said: ‘Growing up, The Wurzels were probably the main inspiration for me becoming a musician. Their body of work spoke to me about the dark underbelly nestling within Britain’s rural villages, but I couldn’t help but sing along.’

‘All the people that laughed at me and called me a deadbeat, a loser, a bitter old man, a no-talent shitheel, a non-entity, a stain on the very fabric of popular culture, a cheeseball, a self-promoting has-been, a waste of space and complete and utter mindfuckingly rubbish can do one – I am now officially as popular as the Wurzels, and they are not.’

Steve Brookstein’s new self-released single ‘How to Make Friends and Irritate Tweeters’ is out now on stereo cassette and available from all good newsagents.

 

The Worst Albums Ever Made – ‘Doo-Wops & Hooligans’ (2010) by Bruno Mars

12 Mar

By Slick Nick

The first few months of a new year are usually trying times – it’s a struggle going back to work, the weather is shit, school kids are everywhere and Loose Women returns to television schedules. The early part of 2011 will always be remembered as a particularly frustrating period for me due to the compositions of Bruno Mars penetrating my daily morning and evening commutes like fucking wasp stings.

A poor man’s Michael Jackson, Mars shot to fame in 2010, largely for contributing bad ideas to already dreadful songs, like Travie McCoy’s mindfuckingly terrible  ‘Billionairre’, before ‘Doo-Wops & Hooligans’, his debut album, was released to almost total elation from music critics and fans of bad music alike. The problem was, no one knew they were actually listening to one of the worst albums ever made.

Modern pop isn’t really my critical forte. Having grown up on a diet of punk, hardcore, metal, surf and Abba, dissecting rubbish like this takes me out of my comfort zone a little bit. None the less, the two main singles irritated me enough to delve deeper into the Mars discography, which luckily begins and ends with these twelve songs.

This is fourty minutes or so of unimaginative, wishy-washy, forgettable pop. It is a collection of sadsack musings from a man that would have no shame in asking someone ‘why do you think girls don’t like me?’ and rest assured, it is just as annoying.

I will always remain stunned that lead single ‘Just The Way You Are‘ shifted so many units. A song that outstays its welcome after about 23 seconds and then builds to a punishing falsetto warble, it features ridiculously melodramatic lyrics that even fucking Celine Dion would probably be embarrased to sing. Follow-up ‘Grenade‘ is even worse, alluding to the act of suicide over a girl. By claiming to be able to catch a live hand grenade to protect the said girl, Mars also makes light of war and disrespects our boys in Afghanistan or where ever the hell else our forces are stuck these days. That’s just offensive.

I’d love to see this object of Mr Mars’ lyrics; to listen to him, you’d think the broad had been perfetly crafted by the very hands of God himself.

‘Our First Time’ is a tender, boring ode to a couple’s initial fuckfest. It’s little more than a demo, like someone trying out a new microphone for the first time.

Then, ‘Runaway Baby‘ ups the ante, offering a punchier, jive-inspired number. It fails immediately due to the previous few songs affirming Mars’ status as something of a despair-ridden pariah in the eyes of the opposte sex, and is thus as embarrassing as seeing your relatives dancing at a wedding.

The Lazy Song‘ has ‘hit single’ written all over it, which is a worry. Does the British youth of today really need any more inspiration to do nothing with their lives but listen to rap music and mate? The album’s lyrics reaches its peak of crapness on here though, as proven by this choice cut: ‘Tomorrow I’ll wake up do some P90x / Meet a really nice girl have some really nice sex / And she’s gonna scream out ‘this is great’ (Oh my God, this is great).’ Brilliant. Let’s all destroy every copy of Shakespeare’s complete works – we have a new literary genius to dissect for GCSE English classes now. Sadly, all this cut leaves the listener with is an image of Mr Mars quite literally laying around in bed within the throws of self gratification (wanking).

I have to admit that this album isn’t without its saving graces. ‘Count On Me’ is a pleasant, low-key effort just slightly undermined by childish lyrics, whilst ‘Liquor Store Blues’ has a thunderous raggae bass groove that can be felt as well as heard. It’s no Toots & The Maytals but it’s certainly listenable.

Finally, the album title is woefully misleading. I was hoping for some strong harmony work, maybe some retro acapella ideas and certainly at least one cover of ‘Blue Moon’ by the fucking Marcels. Sadly, there’s no actual doo-wop to be had here at all though.

 

I’d catch a grenade for you, then write a shit song for you.

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