Posts Tagged ‘Video’

NewsGush – Mum’s Gone To Boots

October 23, 2008

Good news for idiots – specifically those who like to discuss the ins, outs and shake-it-all-abouts of untalented minor celebrities. Click here for the ‘big’ story.

Kerry Katona appeared on This Morning with Phil & Fern and slurred her way through the interview. She didn’t look pissed and the explanation that she happens to be on anti-psychotic drugs covered her phonetic sludge, yet this has somehow made the national news. Must’ve been a slow day.

In WWM’s defence, I’ve stuck this clip up knowing full well that Katona’s name alone will guarantee a good few handfuls of extra hits. It’s a mercenary world.

Though I was a fan of Katona’s early work with Atomic Kitten, I felt (and continue to feel) that she’s really come into her own with her appearances on the Iceland ads. I don’t follow the populist view that the Nolan sister who features in the more recent clips has diluted the franchise – I actually feel very strongly that Katona has become stronger as a thespian working alongside another untalented old boot.

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Scarlett Johansson – Anywhere I Lay My Head

October 22, 2008

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.

Nickelback – Photographs

August 27, 2008

There’s a town in Florida called Celebration that was designed, built and engineered by the Disney Corporation. It’s an ode to the small town of American mythology – where everyone knows everyone elses’ names, where little league is the sport of choice, where there’s a church on every corner and where 97% of the population are white. In its early years, actors were employed to aide the impression of the the yokel spirit and snow was sprayed on the ground every Christmas whether it was cold or not.

Celebration is, in more ways than are readily recognised, the epitome of American values. It presents the right image, it taps into patriotism and nostalgia and it is effortlessly controlled by a ruthless corporate behemoth that purports to be about family values. If it looks genuine and it sounds genuine then who cares if it actually is genuine?

Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Nickelback country.

Writing about music on WWM is always a tricky proposition as it always flares up far more defensive responses than your average ITV show. However, with Nickelback I feel I’m on safe ground.

To like this band you must be a tone deaf, semi-illiterate fucktard who enjoys the sensation of being aurally patronised and having their values slowly beaten into a bloody pulp by a thousand men in very expensive suits. You must be a masochist whose musical purchasing revolves around the latest ‘Now’ compilations and ‘Hardcore Urban Trance Classics 2009’. By all accounts and all tastes and all allowances for musical snobbery, you must be a moron.

‘Photographs’ is the band’s most recent single – a rerelease following the highly explicable but no less painfully successful ode to money and directionless consumerism ‘Rock Star’. It’s a contrived amalgamation of supposed memories from lead mullet Chad Kroeger, all perfectly emoting what is an archetypal upbringing for your average middle class ‘troubled’ teenager who still shops at The Gap – you know, the ideal demographic for this sort of thing.

Like a fake medium hustling a rich and grieving widow, Kroeger channels picture perfect vagaries of screen-door memories in middle America Nowheresville, picking out the schoolgirls who broke his heart and his numerous brushes with the law. He contemplates how he went astray, becoming a reflective and wizened soul who wants a second chance at life – all the while seemingly forgetting that he’s actually a former session musician from Canada whose only conviction is for being a drink-driver.

This follows the same line as their previous single ‘Rock Star’ which is basically a list of rock star cliches – a song particularly interesting as it features a rock star singing from the point of view of an ‘everyman’ about how he really wants to be rock star. Projected self adulation it may be, but it’s also about a rock star clearly becoming annoyed that his rock star life doesn’t follow that of what a rock star life should be – so he sings a song about he’d rather have a rock star image than be the actual rock star he is. Are you still with me?

Music is all about image, I’m not denying that, but there’s something deeply sinister about the way Nickelback go about it – their lyrics are almost focus-group driven, sculpted from marketable subjects that can inspire the most ferverent puchasing and imbued nostalgia. They drip Americana; etched into every rumpled t-shirt and straggly rat-tail is a sense of rugged machoism and glistening self importance, all topped off by a style that was popular roughly 15 years ago.

Of course, Nickelback aren’t the image of the real America, they’re the image of the corporate America. They’re the image of socially responsible rebellion, of radio friendly rock music and of all-out war-waging pomposity. Yes, there are other bands who use the flag as their image and some are far worse than these pseudo hillbillies, but I don’t think there’s a band out there who wear it so brazenly – who tread the line between sincerity and self parody so closely.

Listen to the lyrics. It’s like they’re cribbed from Facebook photo comments to achieve maximum effectiveness – a false history wrapped within a culminated life and sponsored by Disney. They’re the Miley Cyrus of rock bands; tightly squeezed by an army of imagemakers who can take their sub-average cliches and present it with so much glitter and sparkle that you hardly notice what’s beneath it all.

The talkbacks will begin soon and we’ll all wade through the usual music arguments. Let me save us all some time; I know there’re far worse bands in the world, I know that commercial rock is nothing new, I know that the music industry has always been about image and I know that even those precious fuck-you rock bands that I grew up on were really powered by Sony.

Nickelback are a new breed of all that, though. They’re a genetically spliced super group that combine the twin powers of alt dot origins and massive commercial appeal. Much like GI Joe, they have a copyright logo where the cock and balls should be – and should that sort of behaviour really be encouraged in the first place?

One Minute Review: ‘Emily, I’ by Scrabbel

January 15, 2008

If something is shit, it’s simply shit. Hey, no problem.

When something tries desperately to be witty, cool, ‘off the wall, ‘knowing’, and fails, then my blood pressure rises. After watching this video I was so enraged I was left spitting at my computer with my face all red and puffy.

Using bits of stop motion animation and live footage of this appalling group of wankers all being funny and wotnot by dressing as animals and ‘larking’ about- we are left with what is possibly the worst piece of crap ever seen in the history of mankind. To add insult to injury, some prick has spent a great deal of time on this bollocks. Take the animation for example, out of context it isn’t that offensive, in context it simply lends itself to underline the shit-flinging awfulness of the fucking video.

The band, a sort of partially dieted Magic Numbers, but far, far worse (and that’s saying something), they display vastly over-inflated egos which tower so far over their insignificant talents it makes me feel physically ill. The sickening cutesiness of their supposed image, the attempted nonchalance, the cunting costumes… I can’t do anymore on this. I need to fill my eyes with thick bleach in order to redress karma.

Oh – the song? Don’t get me started on that. Someone tell them the fucking 60s is over.