You’ll have to excuse the rather sparse updates here at The Sloppy Dog of late. A mixture of arranging birthday parties, handing in letters of resignation, whipping ourselves into a froth of excitement at the prospect of Victoria Beckham on Ugly Betty, and life-or-death open-heart surgery. One of those may not be true. Please accept our lamest excuses humblest apologies, and enjoy this week’s Single Reviews…
Paramore lead the pack this week, in review order only, though - definitely not in terms of quality. Aside from the shameless, barefaced ripping-off of No Doubt’s
Hey Baby video, artwork and general soul,
CrushCrushCrush provides sod all to write home about. Rather like a budget Evanescence with hip motion, this is little more than
Bratz Go Emo.
A very welcome return to the tremendous
Estelle, whose criminally underrated album, singles and overall status thankfully haven’t prohibited the arrival of her second album. Heralded in by the skill
Wait A Minute (Just A Touch), even the mouldy touch of Will.I.Am thankfully can’t taint one of Britain’s brightest stars. Shuffling beats peppered with fleeting parps of brass, it’s a perfect partner for Estelle’s incomparable style.
While
Sean Kingston’s mahoosive
Beautiful Girls was equal measures of gimmicky and tiresome, it wasn’t difficult to see why it reached the heights it did. So, in a further aping of Eamon’s career, his second single is a wishy-washy pseudo-ballad that’s unlikely to bother the upper regions of the chart. So although
Me Love may be a throwaway, reggae-tinged pop nonentity, let’s be thankful he hasn’t spawned his own Frankee…
With possibly their most mature single to date,
Girls Aloud ease us into their fourth album after the cacophony that was
Sexy! No No No. The slick, sophisticated
Call The Shots may not carry the same level of excitement that previous upbeat material held, but it matches
Whole Lotta History as a demonstration that Girls Aloud can pull off earnest rather well. (Who’s Ernest, fnar fnar, etc etc…)
After breaking - marginally - away from the drippy
X Factor standard with his previous, shall we say, experimental double A-side,
Shayne Ward dives straight back into the empty sentiment of his debut with
Breathless. Were it not for his own brand of endearingly oafish childbirth-related lyrics, this could be the work of any tween-throb, boyband, or even twilight-era crooner.
Finally, unveiling a full-throttle anthem of genius are
Editors (who we had to do an extensive Googling over just to determine the existence of a “the” prior to “Editors”).
The Racing Rats easily scoops our
Single of the Week, far surpassing their previous prevalent single
Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors, and arguably, a big ol’ chunk of their first album. Finally, we’re actually getting the hype.
You’ll have to excuse the rather sparse updates here at The Sloppy Dog of late. A mixture of arranging birthday parties, handing in letters of resignation, whipping ourselves into a froth of excitement at the prospect of Victoria Beckham on Ugly Betty, and life-or-death open-heart surgery. One of those may not be true. Please accept our 
Paramore lead the pack this week, in review order only, though - definitely not in terms of quality. Aside from the shameless, barefaced ripping-off of No Doubt’s Hey Baby video, artwork and general soul, CrushCrushCrush provides sod all to write home about. Rather like a budget Evanescence with hip motion, this is little more than Bratz Go Emo.
A very welcome return to the tremendous Estelle, whose criminally underrated album, singles and overall status thankfully haven’t prohibited the arrival of her second album. Heralded in by the skill Wait A Minute (Just A Touch), even the mouldy touch of Will.I.Am thankfully can’t taint one of Britain’s brightest stars. Shuffling beats peppered with fleeting parps of brass, it’s a perfect partner for Estelle’s incomparable style.
While Sean Kingston’s mahoosive Beautiful Girls was equal measures of gimmicky and tiresome, it wasn’t difficult to see why it reached the heights it did. So, in a further aping of Eamon’s career, his second single is a wishy-washy pseudo-ballad that’s unlikely to bother the upper regions of the chart. So although Me Love may be a throwaway, reggae-tinged pop nonentity, let’s be thankful he hasn’t spawned his own Frankee…
With possibly their most mature single to date, Girls Aloud ease us into their fourth album after the cacophony that was Sexy! No No No. The slick, sophisticated Call The Shots may not carry the same level of excitement that previous upbeat material held, but it matches Whole Lotta History as a demonstration that Girls Aloud can pull off earnest rather well. (Who’s Ernest, fnar fnar, etc etc…)
After breaking - marginally - away from the drippy X Factor standard with his previous, shall we say, experimental double A-side, Shayne Ward dives straight back into the empty sentiment of his debut with Breathless. Were it not for his own brand of endearingly oafish childbirth-related lyrics, this could be the work of any tween-throb, boyband, or even twilight-era crooner.
Finally, unveiling a full-throttle anthem of genius are Editors (who we had to do an extensive Googling over just to determine the existence of a “the” prior to “Editors”). The Racing Rats easily scoops our Single of the Week, far surpassing their previous prevalent single Smokers Outside The Hospital Doors, and arguably, a big ol’ chunk of their first album. Finally, we’re actually getting the hype.
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