Friday, July 25, 2008 

In praise of... the death of Peter Andre and Jordan.

Whichever Grauniad leader writer was responsible for this Pseuds Corner-worthy abortion on unusual names ought to hang their head in shame:

Celebrities Peter André and Jordan mixed up their mothers - Thea and Amy - to come up with Princess Tiáamii for their daughter, achieving a neat feminist counterbalance to patrilineal surnaming (though they may not put it that way).

It's already bad enough that you've had the desperate luck to be born into a family of such complete and utter cunts, but being given a name which is going to haunt you long after they've shuffled off this mortal coil (hopefully in the most violent and painful way imaginable) really perhaps ought to open them up beforehand to legal action.

Labels: , , , , ,

Share |

Wednesday, October 24, 2007 

I'm bitter, but I haven't been eating lemons?

Don't you long for the days when pop music was daring enough to be radical, when its main practitioners weren't drug addicts with nothing to talk about except their own innate self-pity, angst and brain-addling relationships? When social comment amounted to more than just saying "Britain is shit" and bands like the Enemy would have been bottled off any stage they dared to step on?

It seems then that we have a champion in Kate Nash. Yes, that would be the same Kate Nash who over the past year has been entertaining the nation with such profound lyrics as

You said I must eat so many lemons,
'cause I am so bitter.
I said "I'd rather be with your friends mate,
cause they are much fitter"

Her most recent single, Mouthwash, rather than being a completely empty, vacuous, vapid song shat out to help fill up an album being rushed out to follow up the bewildering success of "Foundations" is in fact a comment on the Iraq war. Here are the lyrics to Mouthwash in full:

This is my face, covered in freckles with an occasional spot and some veins.
This is my body, covered in skin, and not all of it you can see
And, this, is my mind, it goes over and over the same old lines
And, this, is my brain, it's torturous analytical thoughts make me go insane

And I use mouthwash
Sometimes I floss
I got a family
And I drink lots of tea

I've got nostalgic don't know
I've got familar faces
I've got a mixed-up memory
And I've got favourite places

And I'm sitting at home on a Friday night (2x)
And I'm sitting at home on a Friday night and I hope everything's going to be alright (2x)

This is my face, I've got a thousand opinions and not the time to explain
And this is my body, and no matter how you try and disable it, I'll still be
And, this, is my mind, and although you try to infringe you cannot confine
And, this, is my brain, and even if you try and hold me back there's nothing
that you can gain

Because I use mouthwash
Sometimes I floss
I got a family
And I drink lots of tea

I've got nostalgic don't know
I've got familar faces
I've got a mixed-up memory
And I've got favourite places

And I'm sitting at home on a Friday night (2x)
And I'm sitting at home on a Friday night and I hope everything's going to be alright (2x)

Even the most intrepid of literary critics determined to find a wider meaning or interpretation of the above would struggle to come to any other conclusion that the song is merely anything other than the insecure ramblings of a teenage mind unable to think about anything other than themselves. Nash, however, has other ideas:

“With ‘Mouthwash’ I read this play called Guardians about a female soldier who was pictured torturing Iraqis,” Nash explained to DiS.

“There’s a monologue from her and the one thing she says she couldn’t get out of her head was these women buy toothpaste, like they’re in a totally different world but they’re the same as her.

Perhaps not as ridiculous as some might first think, Nash explained:

“When you strip away everything from someone you have the same basic needs like brushing your teeth so this was saying don’t judge me... it’s a bit of a protest song really.”

Nash's own clutching at such pretentious straws would be more tolerable if so many other music critics hadn't fallen into raptures over her piss-poor compositions. In the wake of Lily Allen, who at least has an eye for some detail, even if it leads to similarly bad lyrics, the music industry, as incestuous and unimaginative as ever has sent out the call out for other young women with affected accents to sing about their inane thoughts. Instead of pointing out the fact that Nash, like other current indie year-long sensations such as the Kooks, are all the products of arts colleges and about as far removed from the working-class backgrounds they pretend to be from as is possibly imaginable, Kitty Empire and other so-called critics have lapped it up. She entered Pseuds Corner for the final paragraph of her review:

For all Nash's exciting newness, her observations can be as prosaic as they are fresh. Indeed, her genius is sometimes accidental. 'This is my body,' she lilts on 'Mouthwash', like some female Jesus, offering herself up for consumption.

Alexis Petridis is one of only a few admirable exceptions.

It's not so much that Nash is a one-off, but rather she epitomises the current wave of "indie" bands and performers. Taking their cue from the incredibly overrated Libertines, the likes of the View and the previously mentioned Enemy, who draw more from the Jam's music without bothering with their lyrics have both hit number one this year with their mundane ordinariness. When you consider that the View's most well-known song is about wearing a pair of jeans for four days, it's hard not to think that what was once counter-culture has like everything turned full circle. You can't help but welcome the likes of Ian Brown's "Illegal Attacks" (mp3) which has all the subtlety of a sledgehammer when the rest of the crop can't see beyond their own navel.

The Arctic Monkeys' second album, which eschewed the dreary obsession with clubbing and pubbing of the first album in favour of a wider view, Bloc Party's A Weekend in the City and the Rakes' Ten New Messages have been the few exceptions from this year's rather meagre crop of new music to dare to address issues such as terrorism, being in an minority and the emptiness of modern existence while not sacrificing the need to come up with a decent tune while at it. We perhaps ought to leave the final comment to John Brainlove:

I think the Iraq War was actually influenced by Kate Nash because she's so fucking brain splittingly awful in every possible way that she brings out the human genocidal impulse.

Labels: , , ,

Share |

Monday, February 19, 2007 

Pseuds corner.

If there ever was a reason for finally going through with that radical new hairstyle, i.e. blowing your head clean off and leaving the mass of your pulverised brain and fragments of skull for that poor sod doing community service to clean up, then the worldwide attention and comment about a young woman going into a hair salon and shaving her hair off is about as good as they come.

Over on Comment is Free, Ben Hammersley not only manages to opine about exactly why this woman, whose name I'm not going to mention, did the deed, but also lets us know about his hideous dragon tattoos. Meanwhile, Zoe Williams, also known as the Guardian's most pretentious and worst columnist, thinks that this is definitely the sign of a nervous breakdown. In the Guardian's own reporting of this world changing event, we're treated to the interpretation of psychoanalyst (the quack section of psychiatry) Bethany Marshall:

"The hair represents the stylists, the handlers, people who are in control of her life and manage her looks. Now she's saying, 'I'm in charge of my looks'. The shaving of her hair is a fresh start, a new beginning, taking matters into her own hands, doing it her own way."

Frank Sinatra has never sounded worse.

The Scum, not being one to over intellectualise when it can instead just scrape the bottom of the barrel, gives us the most naive lines it's probably ever written about anyone.

IF anyone portrays how easy it is for young people to fall down the slippery slope, it is troubled pop princess Britney Spears.

She once attended church, spoke out against drugs and restricted her boyfriend to a kiss and cuddle in the back row of the movies.

Hello? Earth to Rebekah Wade? This is called marketing.

That’s all a distant memory. Only 25, Britney has had two children in a year, is going through her second divorce and is in and out of rehab.

The sight of her shaving her locks was pitifully sad. She needs help.

Get it soon, Britney, love.

Being told to get help by the Sun is like being told you're a cunt by Russell Brand.

Elsewhere in today's Grauniad, Sophie Ellis-Bextor entertains with her brilliant reasoning for getting a "sailor-style" tattoo:

Tell me about your tattoo.

I got it when I got married so that it would go with my wedding dress, though I did understand it was going to be there after the event. My mum got a tattoo when I was about six and I think that probably left an impression on me. I quite like the old sailor-style ones. Mine says "family" because it's something I believe in.

This seems to miss the point that if a sailor had actually ever got one of those tattoos then they would have been thrown overboard, but maybe that's what Sophie's trying to tell us. Is this her cry for help? Perhaps Zoe Williams and Ben Hammersley should let us know.

Will you excuse me? I'm going to look for my noose.

Labels: ,

Share |


  • This is septicisle


Powered by Blogger
and Blogger Templates