:$ shit emoticons usually make me want to shoot something but I’m going to use that because my head is exam mush – can practically feel heatstroke coming on.
*vacuous bit over*
In the meantime I recommend Viceland and all of their delightful offerings, such as the roundup from Noisey @ Old Blue Last, which featured Giggs (UK rap artist du jour) and those highly contagious Vaccines with their 80s car-guitar. “What Did You Expect…” probably deserves a bit more analysis in its entirety but I’ll leave it at that (don’t want to erm over exert myself etc.)
Mail me music/biscuits/Ronan Parke jokes* and I’ll try and actually write a blog rather than something which looks like a Twitlonger from Piers Morgan.
H
X
@hannahjdavies
*heat making me heartless, obviously.
If I wasn’t boring I’d be at the Camden Crawl blogging with Vice, enjoying fringe events such as the Nightjar (voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch, Cumberbitches take note) and the film festival curated by Guillemots, as well as obviously listening to music from the likes of Tom Williams and The Boat, Little Comets and Beth Jeans Houghton. Except I’m cripplingly boring and my A Levels (officially) start this week.
Instead I’ll just churn out five of these babies:
“You never review new singles!” “Done” (Apr/May)
The Shoes – Cover Your Eyes (Crack My Bones LP released March, single TBC on Southern Fried)
Late night French radio is good for two things as far as I’m concerned. Besides the super-detailed meteo, sometimes a gem slips through the wireless with all the ease of a Parisian breeze. They’ve mixed for a menagerie of indie bands and had their music featured on Gossip Girl but that’s where the comparisons with serial remixers Justice, samplers Daft Punk and advert song duo Air respectively should end. As brilliant and French as those acts are, Cover Your Eyes is a brooding, dramatic slice of indie which leans more towards the pop than the electro. Seemingly taking its lead from Gaelic influences as well as British indie, its main hook and lyrics (e.g.: the “mathematics of a heart laid bare”) could have been plucked from 80s new romanticism…but how fresh it sounds. I think the whole album could be a winner, as long as I don’t hear “Cliche” on a cliche-d Toyota advert before 2016.
4.5/5
For fans of: Delphic, Zach Hill, Sebastien Tellier.
Japanese Voyeurs – Get Hole (was released 18th April on Fiction)
It’s not very often that I get ridiculously excited about a band who were formed before about 1997, or a band like Japanese Voyeurs who are possibly all talk. Question: is it possible to be a grunge band in 2011? Question: is it possible to have a pain-inducing riot grrrrl wail when the only Veruca Salt of your childhood probably courtesy of Roald Dahl? I’m going to stop asking questions because its ruining the crazy contrast between Exorcist-girl vocals and irregular Pantera-esque chords. Japanese Voyeurs aren’t Japanese but they’ve definitely been doing some voyeurism into Courtney Love’s back catalogue (is “Get Hole” actually a ridiculously obvious ref?!) … and, coupled with even more angry postmodernism, it works. Question: is this for real? Answer: I stopped caring after the first 30 seconds. Memo to Taylor Momsen: watch and learn from Romily Alice, Little J.
3.5/5
For fans of: the 90s, Rolo Tomassi.
The Sound of Arrows – Nova (was released 25th April on Geffen)
Winner of the most self-indulgent video ever award (they made it themselves), this is most certainly a guilty pleasure from the Swedish pair. This is Basshunter and MGMT collaborating at a party hosted by a porn baron, and it fails to conjure up the 80s vibe of Hurts because its a join-the-dots attempt at mainstream electronica with a homoerotic vid I think was intended to go viral. Controversial its really not, however it is strangely compulsive thanks to their Scandinavian pronunciation and predictable themes of stalking (“I’ll never stop following you”). The Top comments on the video sum it up…at the tenth play, I think I have Stockholm Syndrome.
3/5
For fans of: Saint Etienne, Pet Shop Boys, The Teenagers
Barbara Panther – Empire (Album to be released 16th May on City Slang)
Barbara Panther is a Rwandan singer from Brussels via Berlin, mixing potent electronic beats with poetically gothic lyrics, however because she is black she will ultimately draw superficial comparisons with that other black electronic pop singer, Santigold. I personally think any such comparisons would be a waste of time…Barbara Panther sounds like she’d be far more at home among the 70s and 80s artists on my favourite leftfield compilation ever, Disco Not Disco from Strut (which I’m lucky enough to own in physical form). She is vintage and trance-like without wearing her influences too obviously. The Lom remix of Empire deconstructs and reassembles this colonialist anthem (just kidding) with ease, and it is possibly better than the (utterly crazy) original.
4/5
For fans of: Flykkiller, Bjork, Summer Camp
Frankmusik – Do It In The AM (released May 3rd on Cherrytree/Interscope)
Club 18-30 choon which is the wrong side of electronic. Frankmusik’s polished-up vocals plus an appearance from Far East Movement (“who?” I hear you cry) can’t save this turgid cross between an X Factor winner’s third single and the theme tune of a BBC3 documentary on safe sex. Do it the morning kids, in the AM, before your parents find out or you fail your GCSEs! Oh, how the (relatively) mighty have fallen. On the subject of this vacuous piece of Americana, Mr Frank told some kind of Far East Movement fansite that “this new record has got a bit more finesse to it”, which I’m assuming he thinks is the French word for overproduced. “I’ve finessed the songwriting, the songs are a lot more punchy”, he continued, before defensively adding that his critics could “suck a dick”. FYI that would be in the PM because the AM is far too jam packed with bitches and hoes and Facetime with the lads back in East London. Pitbull circa 2009 he ain’t.
Watch!! There are royalists and republicans alike in VBS’ latest production Rule Britannia: Royal Wedding. I loved the wedding myself (softy at heart), as well as tat like this , but this vid shows the crazy extremism of some and the anger at what is seemingly a symbol of conspicuous consumption by the firm during crazy austerity era 101, as well as the view from the Kings Road and the set of a porn film which really does have the crown jewels. Another great doc which explores the politically sensitive relationship from the point of view of the great unwashed and beyond – some royalists, others ready to burn the palace.
*For what its worth, I love them, and genuinely wouldn’t have had any objection to them shredding quantitively-eased money into beautiful confetti and endless rainbows.
5 reasons to love quadruple-Oscar winning film “The King’s Speech”
1. Colin Firth’s Oscar acceptance speech
2. It makes history fun. Yawn yawn King George yawn etc. Think that kings and queens and period dramas make you sleepy? This won’t.
3. It is a film about a country going through a really difficult time, and I think everyone can relate to the need for strong governance. Hint hint.
4. The attention to detail is compelling. The microphone used in the film is an exact copy of the real one which the King used, and which is property of BBC Heritage (who – rightly – wouldn’t lend it out). The costumes and sets were all perfect, and the horses were positively best in show. The cast are all outstanding, including new faces (like “the girl from Outnumbered” Ramona Marquez as Queen Elizabeth).
5. It’s genuinely moving. So now half of the free world are claiming to have a stammer, perhaps its being used as a new bandwagon like rehab or having a Nando’s gold card. Fortunately the film has brought much needed awareness to speech disabilities which don’t usually make it into Hollywood blockbusters. There are an abundance of films (A Beautiful Mind, The Soloist etc.) about mental disabilities but very few about physical, or as the Queen Mum in the film (Helena Bonham-Carter) puts it “mechanical” ones.
I like The King’s Speech A LOT, and that’s mainly down to the talent of Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush…long live the UK film industry, despite Cameron culling the organisation which made this production possible – the UK Film Council. As always, get in touch if you have any comments, queries or just want to tell me how much you love Colin Firth.
hannah@hannahjdavies.com
No swan songs in sight for Nat (swan) queen (cole)
– Another film I’ve recently seen is Black Swan. Went into the cinema expecting pretentious nonsense from Aronofsky (it is a ballet film after all) but actually enjoyed it a lot. Natalie Portman definitely deserved her Best Actress Oscar for her role as tormented Swan Queen Nina Sayers (I meant what I said above about mental illness being a Hollywood go-to). I digress – Black Swan was fresher and more exciting than I’d expected, despite those slightly cringeworthy lets-throw-in-a-strobe-and-put-it-all-together-in-FinalCutPro club scenes. Without giving the plot away, Portman’s dedication to her role as the dichotomised dancer is such that her year’s worth of training can easily pass for a lifetime’s work; Natalie embodies Nina because I think the audience is actually watching her own struggles and triumphs in connecting with a new art form.
If our love wasn’t sealed, just look at her oh-so-classy and dignified acceptance speech. Not a hint of Gwyneth-esque blubbery:
Natalie Portman: Have we told you Swan Lake-ly that we love you?
A few excellent eccentricities of casting, such as playing Portman off against sleazy prof Thomas LeRoy (Vincent Cassell) and ex-ballerina Winona Ryder add to the quality of the film. Just don’t call Winona’s role as a hasbeen ironic – surely taking a lead role would have been more of an irony, plus she really enjoyed it by all accounts, describing it in an interview as a “juicy little hamburger” of a role. A WINona WIN situation all round then for the subversive starlet. Really liked Mila Kunis as Lilly – unfortunately not a contender for best supporting actress but then again perhaps this thriller was a bit too leftfield to dominate the categories (nominated in 5, won in 1), even in the year of the new revamped “indie” Oscars which are currently being panned…with good reason. Viewers prone to cringing, please avert your gaze. James Franco…I used to love you…
Unless you live in a cave and require one of these to wake you up (yes, that is a Pokeflute, deal with it) then you’ve probably heard all about the Sky Sports sexism row.
In short, two overpaid individuals – lets refer to them in shorthand as Gropey and Dopey – decided to degrade a number of individuals, all of whom were fully qualified to hold their positions in the football world, or in the case of Louise Glass (see below), were just innocents. In light of this ridiculous stain on female capability and capacity, I do feel personally victimised.
1941: they cook, they clean. 2011: they cook, they clean?
Overreaction? You may think so, but as a sort-of-half-feminist I do find it troubling that so many sports professionals and fans gave come out in support of Gray and Keys, providing anecdotes of their “good work” in order to vindicate them…all in spite of the nature of their conduct. Replace the objects of their attack for a homogynous racial/national group, and (rightly) it would be the same type of racism which has plagued the sport for years. So, why is the defamation of women any different? Attacking people for reasons of biological predisposition and social “order” and “power relationships” is as primitive and vulgar as racism, but it seems that sexism is usually discounted because its so commonplace and usually relatively benign.
The semantics of everyday life lend themselves to the 1000 BC power relations, despite the day and age we inhabit. It literally is a man’s world, but generally that’s fine, we can deal with the reminders of ‘the way it used to be’ because to do otherwise would be madness. We can’t revise the OED in its entirety, re-write history (herstory?) and Dickens and rename manholes, but we can look towards the less benign elements, i.e.: the gross physicality with which female sexuality is described. Women are still described as “blonde”, “buxom” or “single” in seemingly irrelavnt circumstances. You know the woman who Lord Strathclyde “romped” with? Yup, she was blonde, buxom and single. Oh, and she was a single mother. Bonus points for the prude patrol there. “Single” is inter alia just a way of implying all kinds of promiscuous, careless, non-virtous things. So, the media plays a game of quid pro quo…shame a government official and also shame his mistress to! Of course, being a poor single mother who lives above a chip shop, Birgit Cunningham was unlikely to turn down tabloid money to talk about her sex life with the peer in her flat above a chip shop. See how this humiliating strategy works? In fact, I might go and re-write that Dickens novel on second thoughts. Calling Ms Cunningham a homewrecker assumes that the Lord was truly the man of the house…
I digress. Then there’s the little things. Facebook pages have sprung up in recent years commanding women to get back to the kitchen and make sandwiches/do the washing up/perform sexual acts on men in between their endless gaming sessions.
Club Sandwich: its a club to which we're all invited apparently, genomes permitting
Facebook pages are hardly the next Communist manifesto, however with so much virtual support garnered for these ‘niche’, ‘ironic’ views it seems that laughing AT women has never been so popular. Oh, just make sure you call it banter.
Of course some women don’t help themselves…
…however, the Gray/Keys situation is thus much less innocuous than the media outlets which are going into ‘3 the Sky Sports 2’ mode would like us to believe. Blame it on a Madonna-Whore complex or whatever, but the fact that these men have the support of their wives doesn’t absolve them of their disgusting behaviour. That aforementioned banter is apparently of the “lads mag” sort. So thanks for helping to advance sexist views to the next generation as well, along with openly misogynist individuals like Danny Dyer who also claim to be “just kidding”.
Case in point 1: Gray and Keys ponder over why assistant referee (operant word there being referee) Sian Massey can understand the offside rule. Perhaps because she’s a q-u-a-l-i-f-i-e-d sporting professional, lads? The bitter twosome also made bitchy remarks about successful businesswoman and Apprentice judge Karren Brady.
Case in point 2: In footage which has only come to light as a result of the comments about Mss. Massey and Brady, perv Gray asks co-presenter Charlotte Jackson for some suggestive help. Classy content as always… Ms Jackson’s nervous giggle will act as a key part of Gray’s defence. Apparently an (obviously tense) smile at a lewd comment from a station heavyweight is a get out of jail card for dirty old men everywhere.
Case in point 3: Keys embarrasses himself with vulgar, dated sexist immaturity which isn’t even thinly-veiled enough to qualify as innuendo. Worse still, the woman at the centre of is a completely random muggle so can’t hide from the public humiliation. But hoorah, common sense prevailed, she’s suing BSkyB!
…so, my question is this. What can the FA do about sexism in football? Should we just accept that the culture of the sport facilitates such problems as this scandal? Ok, perhaps that’s more than one question but whatever. In addition to these questions, should we also be ignoring sexist comments in the media/social media spheres? I’m not talking about some crazy, Utopian equality which can suddenly erase the past and all those rude Facebook pages, but give us a break. Eve caused the fall yadee yah yah, but “keeping women in their place” seems to show a lot more about the type of males our society is producing. Moreover, moving back to Gray and Keys, mourning the loss of a seven-figure salary shouldn’t mean that these men’s wives are desensitised to the real problem here. It’s a game of two halves, and they should be wholeheartedly behind the girls. Family ties and patriarchy are so 50s.
Here come the girls: 5 Forgotten Favourites from the femmes*
*mostly artists sadly no longer recording
– Post-binary gender chores is the chant du jour.
– Question the relationship a bit Man and Machine a little bit with this as a cynical soundtrack.
– ignore the Omen-esque boy and the cake iced with “All Hail Me”. It’s purposely creepy but a powerful anthem.
– best Madonna song. Subjective, moi?
– had this on loop at the age of 14. J Pearl appearing on Gossip Girl didn’t devalue the Adventurous quality of this debut.
*you can get them all in a Spotify playlist here, apart from All Hail Me which for some crazy copyright reasons was probaly only available in the 90s as some import 45″ from Asia.
Love from your feminist-in-training!
Teenage Wasteland?
VBS.tv is releasing a new part of Teenage Riot each day this week. The story starts here, with the “siege of Millbank” and escalates through the week. Quality documentary, as diverse perspectives focus the debate around insightful and saddening questions of education and politics.
My very first hannahjdavies.com podcast! Click above to hear me wax lyrical (pardon the pun) on censorship in music, and learn why Dire Straits are causing a furore thirty years on!
This week has marked the second birthday of my website – how time flies! Not so long ago, I was blogging about salad cream, Hello Kitty and how much I wanted to be Glinda from Wicked and drown in a sea of Barbie dolls (under an awful assumed name – the blog in existence is still on Google three years on) and now I am blessed with a blog which has been so much fun to write and hopefully to read as well. I digress – today you’re getting my TOP TEN as well as my BOTTOM TEN of the singles which 2010 served up. International readers: this list encompasses the best and worst of the year’s UK releases, but feel free to point me towards music in your loci via an email to hannah@hannahjdavies.com.
Shall I start with the good news, or the bad? Oh, the bad, you say? Yeah, its probably better to end the year on a high, so I’ll kick off with the year’s 10 worst singles (again, I should stress, in MY opinion).
I’m bad, I’m bad (really, really bad)
10. All Time Low by The Wanted
Another manufactured and ethnically-diverse boyband to add to the scrapheap, The Wanted were about as wanted as herpes. In 2010, they hit the mainstream with their so-very-boring-and-predictable eponymous album and debut single “All Time Low”, which was so boring and predictable that the most interesting thing about it was a Coldplay sample (really saying something about the mundanity found therein). Five-part harmonies and a Powerpoint ref aside, the real question here is why The Wanted sound clinically dead during a song which is presumably supposed to be a soul-searching and string-laden piece of unforgettable pop (the type which N Sync were famed for delivering in the late 90s, for example). The question: how DO you get up from an all time LOW? Instead, the boys plumped for insightful lyrics (just kidding) and aforesaid Office lyric “I’m late for work, a vital presentation”, so much so that the song might as well have been called “All Time Low Supply of Meatball Marinara at Subway, Not Sure What To Do”. Not awful per se, but proof in an All Time Low for songwriting. The disappointing hype machine which was The Wanted’s debut single is in at number ten. Oh, and they weren’t even that fit.
9. Teenage Dream by Katy Perry
I am a teenager. Nothing in this three minute, forty-eight second mess will ever appear in my dreams. I’m not the biggest Katy fan in the world, but this single combines three of my least favourite elements of noughties pop. One: breathless vocals which kind of sound like symptoms of some kind of respiratory condition. Two: a strongly repetitive nature. Three: boring lyrics to the power ten (see TheWantedGate above). Oh, and did I mention that Katy Perry sang it? Number nine in my worst songs of the year is this pile of faux-hormonal hogwash.
8. Let’s Start Marching by The Agitator
Proof that it really isn’t all of the money, glamour and Autotune which makes music tacky and worthless these days, The Agitator proves that you can make awful music from the comfort of your own home! Without the backing track, Let’s Start Marching could’ve passed for a folksy protest song and thus joined the en vogue folksy crowd of Mumford…, Little Comets, The Villagers et al. Instead, Derek Meins decided to throw together his shouty vocals with some beats which sound oddly like something from a “now you as well can play guitar”-type magazine circa 1997. Clumsy and turgid, which is a shame because the idea behind it is pretty current (what with The Man increasing uni fees against all of us poor students and taking away free books etc) and at least Meins has spoken to some teenagers lately, something which Teenage Dreamer Katy (see above) hasn’t done since the 90s. Still, this tune ends up sounding like a hollow karaoke parody of what could have been the military-esque protest anthem we desperately needed this autumn/winter. For this reason, “Let’s Start Marching” troops galliantly into eighth place in my list of 2010’s worst songs. Stand at ease, Meins..
7. The Time (Dirty Bit) by Black Eyed Peas
For those of you who’ve just scrolled down the page a little, this is my list of the worst songs of the year. Let me repeat – worst songs of the year. “The Time (Dirty Bit)” initially sounded rather perplexing. What’s dirty about The Time, eh? What dirty secrets did The Time have to reveal to us? Was it a rude joke involving the word’s clock and cock? No – it turns out that The Time was the innocent party in all of this. The Time was in fact 80s smash hit and all-round brilliant party song “(I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life” from Dirty Dancing, which was dismembered beyond all recognition by Fergie and the gang, leading to the seventh worst song of the year. Will.I.Am should go back to being a character in Dr Seuss or whatever he used to do. Sax-sacrilige (the removal of the best sax solo ever, period) cannot and shall not be tolerated. Yours sincerely, the Jennifer Grey fanclub.
6. I Need You Tonight by Professor Green (ft. Ed Drewett)
Another dreadful piece of sampling at number six. I put Ed Drewett’s name in brackets because he is not the problem here. At least he sings the main refrain of the sampled song without changing any words (Fergie above – take note) a few times before his awful brand of creative license slips in and he’s rhyming “me” with errm “me”. No, the problem here is brazen-as-a-Californian-raisin Professor Green, who raps and talks his way around Drewett’s choruses with his tale of pursuing an obviously disinterested female and how he is definitely a “pimp” rather than an “eeeejet”. Remember Pro, there’s only one letter between talking and stalking… Anyways, as somebody who took part in the BlackBerry Live & Lost tour and then bragged about owning an iPhone, I don’t think P.G Tips was exactly against this obviously corporate idea of sampling a band he’d obviously never heard of…and who noone can fully appreciate now. Cheers ‘mate’.
5. Billionaire by Travie McCoy (ft. Bruno Mars)
A second graduate of the school of “featuring another guy to take the fall too”, Travis “Travie” McCoy drags Bruno Mars into this mess, and the drug-possessing, hat-wearing Mars falls flat on his face. Remember when mum said “if x jumped off a cliff, would you?”, well it seems as though B.M didn’t grow up around such useful idioms. A surfer-ish tribute to financial aspiration just doesn’t translate when you’re loaded…and boasting of making money off this very song. Tacky and disingenuous or just a great piece of irony? Either way, it’s my fifth worst song of the year…so there.
4. Airplanes by BOB (ft. Hayley Williams)
Call me anal but the word is aeroplanes. Aeroplanes. NOT airplanes. Hayley Paramore is unremarkable, and BOB, bless he tries to make a serious monetary point (unlike Travie above), even namechecking his ex-employers Subway. Even though the whole thing smacks of labelmates-therefore-easy-collabo-junk, turns out they’re on different labels. Which begs the question of why you would go out of your way to make such a pointless, beiger than beige track. Even though Hayley’s part sounds like something which Avril Lavinge rejected a few albums back and which Kelly Clarkson co-wrote, it turns out that they actually wrote it especially. I won’t even start on part two of this muddled, passe nonsense…
3. Acapella by Kelis
A contender for worst song of the decade. So bad it is actually serving life in prison AKA I am never letting it out of my speakers again. Stop being “lo-fi” and gimmicky and invite us for a Milkshake at your yard, Kel! Remember the old days! Your fake eyelashes and “Rihanna hair” are about as cutting edge as a tape deck and gold body paint is best left to street performers… This mundane and monotone offering is tragically dated… so much so that I think I might actually be travelling back in time listening to it…Welcome back to my list of the best songs of 1987, where was I?! Cheapest hypnotherapy session of my life.
2. Barbara Streisand by Duck Sauce
Suicide is more attractive than listening this song. So catchy but so, SO wrong in a multitude of ways, this odious “disco choon” is responsible for hours of bad whistling. A plea to DJs in 2011: Leave. Barbie. Alone! Not even for a “worst singles everrrr” playlist in 2018.
1. Christmas Lights by Coldplay
The worst song of the year came along really late in the day…but boy is it bad. Hideously bad. Rule one of Christmas songs: do not use every cliche in the book. Rule two: forget the theme song from the movie Notting Hill. Rule three: do not let Chris Martin sing. Who didn’t get the memo? Coldplay (or “Radiohead for those constantly three years behind everyone else”) ruined my Christmas with this serving of shit (no) surprise and shit brandy butter. Horrid. “Night”, “fight,”, “light” conclude my verdict on this single. It’s so juvenile that perhaps Apple and Moses Martin should get a songwriting credit and a TV show called “Are You Smarter Than A 33 Year Old Rock Musician”. The answer it seems, would always be YES.
The ones which made the grade, if you’re interested
10. Find Your Love by Drake
Hello Drake, is it me you’re looking for?
9. Do It Like A Dude by Jessie J
Not an original sound, but a fresh premise from young Jessica Cornish. Weirdly empowering anthem which takes white-girls-singing-like-black-guys far, far away from certain X Factor contestants and puts it in a gutsy but danceable form. Ok, so she’s not Emmeline Pankhurst, but this is a song for the girls.
8. Bittersweet by Sophie Ellis Bextor
SEB can do no wrong. Cut-glass accent and strong beats prevail into the 2010s. Oh, and the song premiered on Gaydar radio, ergo she can still be niche and not have to do a huge TV launch covered in corporate sauce and tassels. Demure and polished.
7. Hollywood by Marina and The Diamonds
2010 was Marina’s year, and my seventh favourite song came from MATDs debut The Family Jewels. Deep and dark versus light and breezy, this track tackles some cliched material but keeps it current thanks to Marina’s unique vocal style and although I did find myself wondering whether it was a parody of this song, I’m pretty sure its not. Now I too need to invest in much American paraphenalia…
6. I Need Air by Magnetic Man
Filling a dubstep-shaped gap which I wasn’t sure existed before they came along, this project created an unforgettable song in 2010 and the sixth best of the year in my opinion. Magnetic Man; your name sounds like a toilet cleaner from the pound shop, but luckily you didn’t give me chemical burns. Quite the opposite. Featuring vocals from Angela Hunte, who wrote Empire State Of Mind, this is a perfect pop package which delectable dub roots courtesy of MM’s trio of Benga, Skream and Artwork who have been on the scene since the 90s.
5. One Time by Justin Bieber
Don’t look at me like that! Not like I fancy him or anything… Justin Bieber, the pre-pubescent sweetheart of singing fame brought skater-esque side fringes into the hair world once again this year. He’s a brilliant performer/entertainer who has divided opinion…once again, I do NOT have a soft spot for the Bieber, he just happens to be the singer who made the fifth best song of the year. Encompassing tweenage romance of the butterflies-sort (Katy P above – take note!) and maths (remember, its me plus you, no multiplication or division innuendo is allowed til his third album at least!), this track is bound to give you Bieber Fever. Or to make you really, really mad. Choose your own ending, reader.
4. Ballad of Big Nothing by Elliott Smith
Sneaky re-release in at number four. Phenomenal work of songwriting, phenomenal vocal performance and a stunning track from a sadly departed talent called Elliott Smith. A posthumous NME cover star in 2010, Smith recorded tons of tracks before his tragic death in 2001. BOBN is taken from compilation “An Introduction to Elliott Smith” (also 2010) and is an unconvincing goodbye to love which is driven by a cyclical, slowburning melody. A haunting brand of romantic poetry.
3. I Think I Like It by Fake Blood
Fake Blood – I think I like you. Take me on a tour of bars in Paris, get me drunk, buy me drag wigs and let me do the conga home. Not to be confused with our tracks of the same name, I Think I Like It by Fake Blood is a self-indulgent sample-fest which is both kitsch and current. Disco past and disco present collide in a way which is decidedly disco future. Is that even possible? Yes. I win.
2. Wonderful Life by Hurts
Eighties enough to seem Eighties. Noughties in delivery. Nineties in cult-status. Stuck somewhere between the past thirty years and yet timeless, Hurts prove that a well-made dance track can straddle a few genres, remain ambiguous and still pack a synth punch to match more “sophisticated” offerings (i.e.: Muse, who have tried a similar tack with poor results of late). This song is purposely old-school meets new, and Hurts don’t exactly conceal their influences *cough cough* Simple Minds *cough*. The drama of this track, however, makes it an undeniably great one.
1. DRUMMMMMMMMMROOOOOLLLLL. My favourite track of the year is…
Whip My Hair by Willow Smith.
Ok, so I MAY have blogged about this track before but that is only because it is incredible. How can one so young be this talented?! How can one so young be hitting the haters with this amount of passion and nonchalance?! I Just. Don’t. Get. It. My favourite song of the year was Whip My Hair, here it is with its shiny new video, au revoir, ta ta, see you in 2011…
I am an awful person. I forgot to blog about halloween disasters, The Social Network, Melissa from The Apprentice’s yardie rant, Don and Peggy’s ‘blink and you missed it’ closeness on Mad Men or even the fact that the sky is blue. Forgive me. I was in America – debating/eating burritos and not wondering how England was because ENGLAND DOES NOT EXIST out there, England does not exist. Now I am sitting in the offices of The Guardian, which is novel! More actual blogging soon. H
X
Welcome to October! I may have backdated this by a few days as it was written in September..then my internet decided to crash! But here it is: my 80s fashion special, just in time for winter. It is mostly serious, but please remember that I don’t take myself too seriously and you can still find me in Primark. ALSO, following on from last month, you can find my interview with Neon Indian for The 405 here.
Head Over Heels for the 80s
Most of the time, I wish I’d been born just a few years earlier. Of course, I mean being born into a parallel 1980s where there was the internet, and no Berlin Wall… So, I’m going to write a seasonal guide to being an 80s child in the horrible 2010s, and if you dont care then I have this to say to you:
Truly the best song of the year. But anyways, I digress:
1 – Wearing an abstract print = edgy, but not ridiculous (please don’t think/say Nathan Barley). Vintage shops, the internet, parents and Urban Outfitters provide us with such wonderfully 80s threads – perfect for a trip to the library to do something 80s like read Bret Easton Ellis novellas and drink iced lattes. This is rebellious because of the possibility of *whisper it* getting water on a book. In all seriousness, though, this is a look which works. It doesn’t just work a 9-5 job to feed it’s kids, it also works overtime and moonlights as a dancer; I say this because it can carry any look into the evening. Guys can keep the jumper and switch from jeans to chinos, but girls can invariably have more fun: swap jeans for a net tulle skirt and thick winter tights, plimsolls for smart brogues, a daytime handbag for a Chanel-esque clutch, and the vintage knit is working so hard it will indefinitely be signed off from work and prescribed some pills.
2 – Headbands = bringing hair together since ever. I know what you’re thinking. Men…wearing headbands? Since when has that been acceptable outside of European football? Then in September 2010, University Challenge brought us the University of the Arts London team, and a clever/fit guy in a headband, and suddenly all Serie A sins were forgotten.
Band of brothers: Walker (second right) shows why a male equivalent of Claire’s Accessories would be so, so right
American Apparel’s lamé headband takes the wearer from cute-girl-next-door with a penchant for aerobics, balayage and itsy-bitsy dogs (exhibit A)…
…all the way to the Nordic poledancing lessson which is Exhibit B.
Once again, American Apparel manage to tread the line between Sweet Valley High and Richard Kern with aplomb. Unfortunately the current story apropos of the chain is the fact that shiny headbands and hedonism haven’t saved it from imminent bankruptcy 😦
Also try:
Earmuffs. It’s almost winter, and earmuffs combine a headband with a vesatile space for cold, reddening lugholes. Etsy’s collection of homemade crafts is a great place to find individual pieces like Princess Leia ones…!
3 – 80s slogan wear = acceptable. If you can’t identify phrases such as “I carried a watermelon” and ” I want my MTV”, or you don’t know a My Little Pony from a Cabbage Patch Kid; you never laughed about the “groove” which Action Man has at his crotch and you’re not sure how to spell Bueller (Bueler? Buller?) then perhaps you should stay away from slogan wear, unless your lack of pop culture knowledge is some kind of ironic, Thatcherite nod, in which case, on you go…
80s clothes are the vestments of a marriage made in heaven. However, noughties rip-offs like this ‘ironic’ Trueblood slogan tee are not quite what the Doctor (Who) had back in mind during the 80s, when varsity prep become a religion.
Blood-y awful: HBO had more luck with the Flight of the Conchords clothing line
4 – Bouncy hair. Speaking as a curly haired girl, volume has never really been an issue. I went through a phase of wanting super-sleek hair…until I realised that a bouncy blowdry is super-flattering as well as being slightly less of a workout. AnnaLynne McCord does both 80s looks with ease; usually she carries off a super curly blonde do which is definitely a homage to bygone glamour, but a bouncy blowdry works equally well on her honeyed locks. Curlies: if you want 90, 210 ways to recreate the 80s (excuse the pun) then follow her lead.
In conclusion, don’t overdo the 80s look. Don’t try imitations, but instead go for new accessories and tees to compliment vintage outerwear. Go authentic and look for good quality and potential when buying pieces. Check boring things like the washing directions, especially on pieces which have been dyed or altered in any way from their original state, and don’t part with your cash for clothes which are truly ready for the bin.
Hallowee-ed be thy name
I’m probably too old for Halloween. However, this hasn’t stopped me pushing the 80s theme on and looking forward to the 31st…as well as compiling some great tunes to be enjoyed, whether or not your tounge is stuck firmly in your cheek:
– A Nightmare on My Street – The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff: the second Smith to feature this month, and gosh are they a talented brood. TFP and DJJJ used the same time signature for all of their collaborations, but I’m sure that it’s economical considering that Kings of Leon have made a career out of recycling. This beat makes Fruity Loops look like Mozart, but it works, and it manages to make Elm Street sound like Sesame Street. PS: this was played in the NME office two Halloweens ago, so it is definitely at the core of our culture.
– Psycho Killer – Talking Heads. This one starts off sounding like some banal driving CD and continues the weirdo-loner theme with the inclusion of some random lyrics in French and emotionless delivery courtesy of David Byrne. He was probably more psychotic when he was all wicked and lazy circa 2002, but the song is still hauntingly beautiful.
– Damien (all 3 parts) by DMX – D muses about the devil over a typically Def Jam track. Getting slowly more demented, this triptych includes his strange penchant for unneccessary narrative (see Party Up!’s religious verse), which is both comic and very, very unnerving. Here’s part one:
There are probably other Halloween songs, but none of them are as amazing as those…unless we’re including The Monster Mash or any “scary” Disney songs within these parameters.
Soooo, unless my internet decides to go loco, I will be posting just before this evil day occurs…probably from my kitchen where I’ll be dousing a crucifix in garlic and watching an 80s film.
Hey there! My mailbox won’t open. It has all of the amazing work I wanted to share with you today. Quite ridiculous. So instead I’m going to go and do a phone interview with Neon Indian:
..and by the time I come back, hopefully it will be working again.
*some minutes later*
Ok, it’s working now, great. Before I go and do this phoner for The 405, I’d like to share some pieces which were written for another website but alas they were never published. So here you go, two topical and culture packed pieces.
Do’s and dont’s for the courtroom:
Ever been asked to give evidence in an important trial on an international stage? Do a Naomi and leave the lexicon at home. Confusion over what you’re being asked (“blood diamond? Qu’est-ce que c’est un “blood diamond”?”) as well as monosyllabic, lampen lingo (“i-was-given-dirty-looking-rocks-by-the-bad-man”) served the supermodel pretty well, as she testified at The Hague. Of course, it would be libellous to accuse Naomi of telling anything less than the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth; however her story proves that when the entertainment and political frames collide, unintentional comedy can ensue.
Naomi's story: story rhymes with jack-a-nory
One fateful night in 1997, Campbell claims to have been asleep following an oh-so-peaceful Nelson Mandela charity function, when she heard a knock at her door. Two men gave hera pouch, reportedly saying it was “a gift for you”. Without meaning to puncture the validity of Ms Campbell’s account, when was the last time that a knock at the door roused you from your sleep? It must have been some pretty aggressive knocking, which fits slightly better with the President Charles Taylor myth (read: the black Stalin). Had I been cross-examining, I would’ve also asked La Campbell where her swarm of staff where when the drop-off occured. Do you think Naomi Campbell touched doorhandles at the height of her fame? Her legal forte is ABH, as witnessed in the magistrates courts of Great Britannia, where court artists surely enjoy themselves sketching her chignon. So, please don’t take our comedy sunshine away, foreign war trials…more importantly, she might make you look like a joke. And Liberia – as recently investigated by Vice here – is really anything but.
Making light, making money..making a mockery?:
Music has been “helping” us to deal with serious issues since the dawn of time. Self-help songs such as abstinence anthem “We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” are customary to our culture, and every boy-meets-girl pop song carries a similar brand of emotional counselling.
Even Queen tried it, albeit with tounge pressed firmly in cheek.
However, speculative songs-about-potentially-serious-subjects (SAPSS) rarely appear in the same frame as the subject matter, for fear of trivialising the latter. It’s not like the latest Ripper case is going to be accompanied by a light piano instrumental of “Roxanne”on the 6 o’clock news. Plus, it’s kind of patronising to assume that Roxanne or any other lady of the night wanted Sting’s career advice in g-minor in the first place. Ironically, the news itself sometimes like to draw attention to songs which might just make an audience think that the news is all bureaucracy and trivia. About 10 years ago, BBC news got all angry over a song called Tapa Na Cara (that’s “slap on the cheek” in Spanish).
Tapa Na Cara: 1/3 of women in America is physically abused, and bad dancing isn't usually a factor
Surely telling victims of domestic violence to get angry about a mardi gras anthem is about as relevant as telling someone whose family were murdered and arranged in a pentacle formation to get angry about Halloween at TGI Friday’s?
Plus, it’s kind of naive of the BBC not to think that Western pop hasn’t been linking sex and violence since the beginning of the world, or more aptly, “since OJ had isotoners”. Brazil were positively late on that angle. Anyhow, I digress – the strangest thing I’ve witnessed of late on the internet is an inverse of the SAPSS phenomenon. It is a SAPSS appearing in the same frame as the subject matter, and dodging the “disgustingly immoral” card by way of endorsement from the victim of said serious crime. Antoine Dodson flew into a wholly justifiable rage after an attempted rape on sister Kelly at their home in Huntsville, Alabama, and his subsequent tirade was shown on local news. As part of their well-known “Auto-Tune The News” viral series, comedy group The Gregory Brothers decided to give Antoine’s rant the T-Pain treatment and the video became an overnight meme sensation. The result had more potential and playability than Rick Astley in a gay sauna with Gap Yah rah star Orlando, getting a mutual erection over Chris Crocker circa 2007:
On one hand, it is hugely inappropriate to make a song about a sexual assault which isn’t a) a raw autobiography or b) in aid of a rape charity. It is pretty taboo full stop, actually, unless you’re in Sublime and you can practise irony as well as santeria. On the other, the song in question is almost a two-fingers up at rape (I should stress almost) and could even be viewed (I should stress could) as liberation in the face of anger, poverty and humiliation. Indeed, the makers of the video went dutch with Dodson, who filmed his last video in an apartment which certainly did not resemble the grim surroundings of the Projects where his sister was attacked. At the end of the day, it’s a bittersweet, almost Dickensian paradox, however much we sick British animals with our supposed love for a “working class hero” justify our love. It is because they are poor and black that society allows us to make them into court jesters, much like the cast of the current BBC3 series “Peckham Finishing School”, all picked for a cheap laugh. Antoine Dodson can sit pretty in an Ed Hardy t-shirt and muse about his “fanbase”, but we’re not really laughing with him. Nor are we laughing at him.
We’re laughing at rape, albeit a highly dramatised song about the possibility that someone is “raping errybody out there”. Our fauxmance with Antoine Dodson has most definitely moved from entertainment to exploitation. Sounds pretty sick, right? Some Americans might be behind the Dodson’s as they grasp at their very own American dream. But we are uncompassionate Brits, and we take Lolita and A Clockwork Orange and abuse books on holiday and read them on the beach. But perhaps if all of us rubberneckers who’ve downloaded “Bed Intruder” because of the internet hype have helped a family escape a life where rape could traverse from criminality into comedy…then maybe it would be ok to advise you to buy it.
Hannah J Davies 