Category Archives: Music

X Factor not-so-live blog: part 3

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1.02 AN HOUR IN! I can do this, I can do this. AN HOUR TO GO?? No, I can’t do this.

Absolutely brilliantly, the judges have all gone to prepare, apart from Louis, who is sitting on his own looking like a happy puppy. Louise* just mimed playing the bongos, and rambled a bit about what he would have sung, given half the chance. Damn, imagine if Wagner was in this year, and Louis and Wagner did a duet of ‘King of the Bongo’? With Louis and Wagner both PLAYING the bongos and grinning at each other? Oh my god. Just the sheer thought has made me so overwhelmingly happy I know that I can keep going with this programme. I’m happier than Gary Barlow with a cup of tea. I am restored.

*This was a genuine typo, but I’m going to leave it in.

1.04 Marcus is saying how he’s ‘never met anyone as talented, sexy, and with such a penchant for velvet as Gary Barlow’. Mere weeks ago, I would have agreed. But it’s all gone so, so wrong for Gary and me. I think it’s probably because I keep watching Rory Kinnear have sex with animals. (I’m sorry about all the refs, but I’m still so disturbed by Black Mirror that humour is my only way of coping.)

Wow. Gary does sound…velvety smooth. And I love this song. ‘Always a woman’ by Billy Joel from the ‘Music John Lewis has ruined’ album. Marcus is kind of going for it a bit too much though, which ruins the sleek vocals of Gary, who I’ve suddenly started fancying again.

To give him his due, Gary is taking a back seat and really letting Marcus go for it. And giving Marcus the mildly saucy eyebrow. It’s all faintly homoerotic. But I’d rather just watch Gary do this. It was very sweet though, very retro. They even did a delightful little laugh afterwards.

Now Gary has spoilt it all by talking. Going on about how great Marcus is, when we know full well Gaz spent the first couple of months pawing over Frankie Cocozza and revelling in his filthy, filthy hair.

Sneaky fast forward.

1.10 Little Mix time! Don’t do Little Mix kids, it’s bad. For this particular look, the X Factor stylist robbed the Swarovski crystal store at gunpoint and took them for all they had. Singing wise, it’s….ok. I hope I’m getting across a point here, that the X Factor isn’t remotely about singing prowess. Oh NO! They’ve done that whole ‘REEEEE-MIX’ thing. Only Missy Elliot can do that. Her, and T.S. Eliot. If you don’t believe me, check out ‘J Alfred Prufrock: the Death Monkey remix’.

1.14 BLOODY HELL! Some complete idiot has got a Little Mix tattoo on their arm. A genuine tattoo! FOR LIFE. What an idiot. I mean, don’t get it on your ARM. My Johnny Robinson tattoo is on my bottom.

1.15 Uh oh, after the break it’s Amelia Lily and Kelly. I’ll be back soon, I’ve just got to remove all the glass from the room. This is going to get shrieky, isn’t it?

1.20 Apparently the competition is about to get ‘raging’, according to Dermot. Raging like my headache.

He’s now pimping out the atrocious bit of tomfoolery that is the ‘tap to clap app’. TAP TO CLAP. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Thank god there’s finally some technology to make the labour intensive business of clapping much easier for me. Phew!

1.21 Kelly says she knew from the start Amelia ‘had something’. No STD jokes. No STD jokes. Aaaargh, this is killing me. They’re doing ‘River Deep, Mountain High’. Gawd bless America. I don’t hate this. Well, I do and I don’t.

Ten hours later, and they’re hitting a note that only insane chipmunks can hear. Also, Kelly is super duper out of breath after that. Yo! Kelly! Try doing 10 minutes of a Tracy Anderson workout if you think THAT’S tough!

1.24 Kids, I’ve got to leave you here. I’m deadly serious, I think my mental health will be compromised if I watch anymore of this freakshow. Yep, I’m picking up the remote to turn off, and – OH HOLY JEBUS. A woman has made an ‘Amelia Lily cocktail’. She names the ingredients as ‘cherry, pina colada, pineapple’ or something like that. PINA COLADA IS NOT AN INGREDIENT. Oh, hang on. I can’t turn off. I’m about to see Amelia Lily have sex with a pig, live on national TV. Right? That was the deal, wasn’t it? Charlie Brooker has broken me. Finally.

1.46 I’ve fast forwarded Leona Lewis, a million ad breaks, and Michael Buble. I went off Buble after seeing footage of him in concert, swearing all over the place and being generally inappropriate. I’m not even putting the accent on the ‘e’, just to annoy him. There was an ad with Kasabian, a group of utterly beautiful men who produce proper music. It brought me back to earth.

1.52 Nearly time for the moment when I get to see disappointment and fury etched on the face of Amelia Lily. Hooray! And a happy Christmas to one and all.

It’s a beautiful moment. Actually, Amelia handles it very, very well. She does a kind of head nod, smiles widely, hugs Marcus, and all without opening her eyes. That was actually very, very classy. Good for her.

So, we made it. WE MADE IT! Now excuse me, because I’ve got to go and have a shower, and erase my memory. Still, at least we’ll always have this not-quite-live blog.

3 weeks till Christmas!

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Is everybody feeling festive yet? I am! We picked up a tree yesterday – sadly everywhere in the world seems to have run out of lights though, so I’m looking at it right now, perched against the garden table, all sad and undressed. This is my first Christmas where I’ve been working from home – the last two years, I worked time-consuming jobs, and in 2009 I was working both Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, so I’m really excited to be a little more in control of my schedule this year.

Apparently we’re due for some snow in the South East, and for the first time since I was a child/at uni (fairly similar times in my life, actually…) I’m really excited about it. The prospect of not having to fight my way across icy streets/have a 7 hour journey home from a town 6 miles away is extremely thrilling. I hated the snow we had last year as it just represented a whole heap of problems in terms of getting around. Oh, woe is me.

Anyway, we’ve got a tree, the house is full of things like candied peel and Heston’s mulled cider (if you’re near a Waitrose, GET SOME), the weather’s getting colder, we’re going to have our first open fire….perfect. Sussex in Winter is absolutely beautiful. What are you looking forward to? What makes you instantly feel festive? When I was younger, I always felt mega Christmassy whenever I heard Simon & Garfunkel. Yep, that’s just how cool I am.

I’ve posted this particular music video not because it’s wildly festive, but because it’s been on my Winter playlist for two years running now, so it’s intrinsically linked with Christmas for me. Not the most imaginative of videos, but actually quite nice to have a break from some of those very ‘try hard’ videos that some of my favourite bands seem to go for. I had a spate of watching music videos that put me off my lunch (Yeasayer and MGMT, I’m looking at YOU), so it’s good to see just an old school video that isn’t making any huge point. ‘Old school’? Did I really just say that?! I’d better stop typing now…

Runaway Love

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I’ve become slightly transfixed by Alice Gold’s voice. Her album is well worth a listen, crossing folky, pop-y, jazz-y lines. This was a song that lodged in my head, and I knew before I even saw it that it’d have a cute video. I also like the lyrics, which bear a bit closer listening to than you might first think. I’m an especial fan of the line ‘Take a trip on a boat down the Seine, champagne, and I’ll let you pay!’ Quite right. She looks like a painted cherub on a ceiling somewhere.

 

It’s time. To lose! Some BRAINCELLS!

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The hilariously awful first auditions, bootcamp stage, and judge’s houses are all out of the way. It’s that time of the year again, when people happily relegate both precious Saturday and Sunday evenings to angrily criticising/silently weeping over a bunch of oddly dressed people on a stage.

This year marks the much lauded (not) start of ‘X Factor: The New Generation’, which Dermot has been shoehorning in for all he’s worth. Things were looking up – the old guard had vanished, save Louis Walsh, who is still clinging like a barnacle to the oversized cruise liner of the X Factor. In came Tulisa, she of the brassy hair and street slang; Kelly Rowland, over emotional and yet strangely earnest, and Gary Barlow, who…well, everyone knows how I feel about Gary.

It started out looking incredibly promising. My issue with previous series had been the way the judges hyped up the contestants, bloating them with undeservedly excellent feedback, then choosing one or two acts to really lambast, just to feed the public appetite for blood. The other reason I lost faith last year was Matt ‘Who?’ Cardle. Jesus….but the less said about that, the better. The show seemed to become increasingly fixed, overstyled, overproduced, and out of touch with any sort of reality. I’m sure a common complaint up and down the sitting rooms of the country was ‘are those judges hearing the same thing I’m hearing?’

I liked the new wave. They were all honest with their acts, with Gary even telling Frankie ‘Seven girls names tattooed on my bottom’ Cocozza he didn’t think he was ‘the best singer’. Ace, I thought. The judges are actually saying, you know, proper things. That normal people think. People keep claiming they want to see Simon Cowell back, as he’d really tear them to shreds. I disagree – I think he became one of the worst offenders of over-hyping, and those ridiculous misleading, crowd-manipulating sentences. ‘I have to say…..we’ve made a huge mistake choosing you…..a huge huge mistake…..because……I SHOULD HAVE JUST GIVEN YOU A RECORD DEAL STRAIGHT AWAY BECAUSE YOU’RE SO BLOODY BRILLIANT’.

'Goth Juice, the most powerful hairspray known to man'

For once, I had high hopes that we’d get the honest feedback that is so essential for making X Factor compulsive viewing. Words cannot describe my horror when the aforementioned Frankie sailed through with glowing praise after the most disgustingly bad version of Ed Sheeran’s ‘The A Team’ I’ve ever heard. I must also take the time to mention the styling. My old fave, Grace Woodward, used to be responsible, and a bloody good job she did. Lord alone knows what’s happened this time – I can only assume a truckload of glitter intended for a drag queen convention had collided with a truck of glue, and attached itself to half the contestants. Frankie (sorry, I clearly have a huge issue with this poor chap) looked like an earlier, underwritten version of Vince Noir.

I feel so dispirited writing this that I don’t think I can cope with much more. I’m so so disappointed that the show is exactly how it used to be before; much too long, over the top, a complete assault on all the senses, and pumped full of contestants who previously wouldn’t have made it past the first few rounds, let alone to the live stages.

By the end of the Saturday marathon, I felt completely overwhelmed, nerves frayed, and like I never wanted to see another dairy product in my life. I don’t even know why I’m blogging about it. I suppose it’s really just to make some recommendations. The only way I found it bearable was by doing both of the following:

  1. Following @themanwhofell on Twitter. He live Tweets it, and is convinced that Louis is sexually obsessed with the moon. It’s the kind of abstract humour that is much needed when watching a hulking megabeast like the X Factor.
  2. Reading Stuart Heritage’s live blog on The Guardian: http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/tvandradioblog/2011/oct/08/x-factor-liveblog-first-live-show

I have to stop writing now. I need to go and take a shower and wash away the X Factor-y remnants than are covering me in vainglory.  Buh bye.

Pictures from the luminous Google images. Thanks, guys.

You need me, I don’t need you

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I adore Ed Sheeran, because…well, look at his hair. How can you not love him? But, I always felt he veered too much towards the ol’ mainstream that I hate so much. But by adding in the extraordinary Rizzle Kicks, that’s a bit of a problem solved in my book. I love the way Mr Sheeran sort of drifts across the screen. I first heard Rizzle Kicks on the way back from Latitude, when India and I turned to each delightedly and chorused ‘but when the sun comes up we’re still alchies!’ Anyway. Enjoy.

Cover my eyes

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While others may find them hollow, disappointing, mercenary, and entirely ‘missing the magic of the original’, I have to confess, I am a HUGE fan of the cover version. I can’t even tell you when this obsession started – it must have been somewhere between ploughing into the darkest depths of free Mojo compilation CDs featuring reworkings and indulging in the poppy sheen of Radio One’s Live Lounge. Sometimes, I just sit there, typing various song titles into Spotify, just seeing what turns up. My finest (or worst…who knows) hour was finding a cover of ‘How Soon is Now?’ by…..t.A.t.u. Remember them? All school girl uniforms, Soviet angst, and snogging in the rain. Covering The Smiths. Don’t lie – you’re already Googling it, aren’t you?

That, for me, epitomised the sheer heady, guilty joy of the cover. Seeing the unlikeliest of candidates tackle an old favourite on paper, and being utterly unable to imagine how it’ll hang together. Those tantalising opening chords when you sit, transfixed, open-mouthed. Will it be good? Will it be…better? Is it sped up, slowed down? Syncopated? Totally bloody awful?

I suppose I love a good cover version because it allows you that rare feeling of falling in love with something twice, in completely different ways. The songs will remain two separate entities, but you may come to love each equally. I fall in love with songs quickly and easily, and out of love just as fast. One too many replays, and those magical cadences are lost to you forever, and suddenly it’s all just noise. The cover version lets you recapture that first tingling feeling.

I thought I’d guide you through the maze of covers with a pick of some of my absolute favourites. I’ve avoided the obvious – everyone knows that Johnny Cash covering ‘Hurt’ was a seminal moment, for Christsakes. You will also find no mention of that cultural wrecking ball, Glee. What they did to the Human League, I can never forgive. What do you think? What are some of your favourites? Have I made some glaring omissions? Drop me a comment, whydoncha?

  1. Sex Bomb – The Easy Virtue Orchestra. From the film ‘Easy Virtue’ a song that had seemed so sleazy when sung by Tom Jones it actually caused me to turn off the tv in embarrassment becomes tongue in cheek (rather than tongue in…other places) through the cut glass vocals of Andy Caine. Far more thrilling than the original.
  2. Dandy in the Underworld – Adam & The Ants. Originally performed by T.Rex. Ostensibly, the only difference at first is between Adam Ant’s more confident vocal and Bolan’s enchantingly quavery tenor; and the tempo. The true genius appears later on – where T.Rex ‘shoo be doo’ their way around this alleged underworld, Mr Ant shoehorns in a recognisable riff, restoring the ‘dandy’ of the title. Both worth a listen.
  3. Independent Woman – Elbow. Originally performed by Destiny’s Child. Recorded for the aforementioned Radio 1 Live Lounge, this is deadpan to the point of disinterest. The Northern drawl on ‘throw your hands up at me’ never fails to draw a smile, and the pre-chorus ‘girl, I didn’t know you could get down like that’ gives me an irrepressible image of a man in a flat cap in a pub, watching some underdressed, inebriated Northern lass throw herself about.
  4. The Model – Seu Jorge. Originally performed by Kraftwerk. Brazilian Jorge is no stranger to covers, having been responsible for the excellent ‘Life Aquatic’ soundtrack, comprised totally of Bowie covers. Here, the cold electro/synth beats of the original are replaced with warm, sprawling guitars. Detached, clinical pop becomes sexier and slightly dirtier, too, while still somehow maintaining a mild chill.
  5. Only Love Can Break Your Heart – St Etienne. Originally performed by Neil Young. A slightly dirge-y yet pop-py piece of fluff is reimagined via a Balearic dancefloor. The soulful crooning of Moira Lambert combines with a bassline dub, creating a totally distinct sound from the original.
  6. Come as You Are – Little Roy. Originally performed by Nirvana. Timings are totally skewed on this one. With a recording career spanning from the late sixties to the present, Little Roy is a Jamaican reggae artist. He’s just released an album of Nirvana covers, including this. Gone completely is the grunge core of the original, replaced with smooth, sliding funk and splurging sax. A must hear.
  7. Rock El Casbah – Rachid Taha. Originally performed by The Clash. Algerian singer Taha grabs this classic with both hands, rolling his ‘r’s’ and generally giving the listener a thoroughly enjoyable aural experience.
  8. White Wedding/Rebel Yell medley – The New Morty Show. Originally performed by Billy Idol. A perfect example of turning the original completely on its head, to great success. The New Morty Show lobotomise the punk out, condensing the two songs and piping them full of big band enthusiasm and swinging beats, with the occasional delve into a samba. Like Benny Goodman woke up in 1977.
  9. Jealous Guy – Roxy Music. Originally performed by John Lennon. Controversial, this one. With a total of 92 cover versions recorded, the simple elegance of the song and the disconcerting honesty of the lyrics have been tackled by everyone from Elliott Smith to Belinda Carlisle. I don’t know how to defend myself on this one. Perhaps Lennon’s is just a little too painful to hear.
  10. La Vie en Rose – Grace Jones. Originally performed by Edith Piaf. Long gone are Edith’s pining, dreamy vocals. Here instead are the pulsing disco beats. Grace’s stylised, throaty tones don’t kick in for almost two minutes. Ever the diva, she just loves to keep you waiting, patiently anticipating. See also the faintly terrifying ‘Demolition Man’.
  11. Can’t Get used to Losing You – The Beat/The English Beat. Originally performed by Andy Williams. Williams’ original was a perfect slice of 1960s easy listening Americana, complete with swooning, cooing female backing singers and plucking strings. 20 years later, in 1983, The Beat pulled in sax, ska and reggae to transform the track.
  12. Oops I did it again – Richard Thompson. Originally performed by Britney Spears. What could be more contrasting than a blonde pop princess in a school uniform, and Mr Thompson, bearded, folky, and full of irony. The thrusting, pouting and moaning from Britney gives way to a cool, considered and also oddly passive-aggressive version.
  13. Don’t Leave Me This Way – Communards. Originally performed by Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes. What can I add? Everyone knows this. Pure disco camp: soaring vocals and wailing with despair, just listen and join in the chorus.
  14. Working Class Hero – Marianne Faithfull. Originally performed by John Lennon. The year was 1979. At the beginning of the decade, the sweet-faced Faithfull had parted ways from Mick Jagger. Homeless, addicted to heroin and anorexic, the intervening years were to alter Faithfull’s voice forever. The album from which this is taken, ‘Broken English’, revealed the damage – cracked and exhausted sounding, Faithfull herself sounded broken. Putting the full force of that voice behind a song like this added a whole new dimension.
  15. Smells like teen spirit – Tori Amos. Originally performed by Nirvana. Brooding, moody, vaguely menacing at times. Sweeping pianos make it a ballad, Amos’s voice makes it haunting.
  16. Putting on the Ritz – Taco. Originally written by Irving Berlin. What’s my most common complaint in life? That there just aren’t enough Indonesian/Dutch/German performers covering 30s standards. Thank God for Taco, then. Strange and sibilant, just wait till his breathy incitements to ‘move to the rhythm’ before the honky tonk piano kicks in. You’ll feel like you need a cold shower.
  17. Ring of Fire – Grace Jones. Originally performed by Johnny Cash. Simply put, utterly bizarre, and a tiny bit demonic. It sounds like our Gracie kinda loves those flames.
  18. This is not a love song – Nouvelle Vague. Originally performed by Public Image Limited. The original is almost unbearably pounding, replete with sumptuously wailing yet bored 80s vocals. When you fancy a break, turn to cover lovers Nouvelle Vague. A chilled, husky experience. Just listen to how she pronounces ‘enterprise’. Saucy and brilliant.
  19. Please don’t stop the music – The Bird and the Bee. Originally performed by Rihanna. Much in the same vein as Nouvelle Vague, all the swagger and insistence of the original has been distorted and slowed by indie duo The Bird and the Bee. Jazzy and naked, perfect for the tail end of a party when you’ve thrown the windows open to let cold night air in, and the crowds are shuffling home.
  20. And an honourable mention for an original that few people know is just that – original: Tainted Love – Gloria Jones. Made famous by Soft Cell. Soft Cell made it so much their own that I’d never heard the original version until last week. It’s a full bodied tour de force that deserves more of a public airing.

So there we go! Maybe you’ll feel inspired to listen to a few covers. Or possibly even make your own?