Random internet people, I need you to do me a favour. If I ever get to the point of meteoric stardom (and with no acting talent and a face like a slapped arse it’s only a matter of time before I join Eastenders) I need you to arrange a hit on me.
Nothing flashy, or too machiavellian – just hire one of those hoodies to knifecrime me in the back of the head.
You’d be protecting me from the negative sides of celebrity. Having so much money and fame would effectively alienate me from the rest of the populace, meaning I would be living in my own world, surrounded by a group of ‘yes men’ – spineless arse-kissers who realise they can let me indulge in any hair-brained vanity project so long as they market it the right way.
Which brings me to Johansson. She’s the one of the latest stars to hit A–List status and thus she’s decided to record her own album. Unlike other A list bands, who tend to be poor copies of whatever’s popular at the time, it’s a covers album. Of Tom Waits songs. Yes, that Tom Waits.
What next? Keira Knightly records her own version of Trout Mask Replica?
The song in question is one of Wait’s better ones, ‘Anywhere I Lay My Head’. It’s basically a horn section and Wait’s voice, which sounds like a gravel pit with a forty-a-day habit. From the bottom of the bottle, Waits rasps on about the changes he’s going to make to his life after being spurned by a lover. It sounds something like a male ‘I Will Survive’ but in that fuzzy state of consciousness where your head is spinning and you lost coherent thought-processes ages ago.
While Johansson’s voice doesn’t add anything to the song, her vocals take away all the character and feeling. Waits fans aren’t going to want to listen to somebody murder a good song, so this must have been written for people that just happen to be fans of both. Or, more likely, it’s written for pretentious twunts who want both a bland, inoffensive recording by a famous face and something they can put on their iPod that’ll let other people think they are cultured and well-versed in popular music.
Which is all well and good if you’re that kind of soulless parasite, but that means the rest of us have to put up with a steaming pile of shit.
Which is why I want you people to knifecrime me. Or at least, when I’ve made a few good films and start recording ‘Ugeine Sings Led Zeppelin in French’, please have the balls to tell me it’s rubbish.
I’d hate to inflict such a misjudged project on an unsuspecting public, simply to stroke my own ego and to give some idiots music cred points.