Prior to this week’s Single Reviews, we feel we must address our actions. In light of recent events, it’s come to our attention that some readers may have been offended by our past slaegin of Mika. We apologise unreservedly for any upset these remarks caused Mika or his family. As a result, we’ll be suspending The Sloppy Dog for three days, and Tim Berners-Lee, who is obviously responsible in the bigger picture, will be retiring from the internet, effective immediately.
Aptly for a release this close to Halloween, a startlingly good debut by the intriguing
VV Brown, which sounds dangerously similar to
The Monster Mash. And, for all the sarcasm abused on this blog, we say this as a good thing.
Crying Blood is the sort of delightful peculiarity doused in Sixties goodness that Solange Knowles’ album was sorely bereft of. With any luck, this is merely the start of something huge.
It’s safe to assume VV Brown would’ve been a certainty for
Single of the Week had it not been for the
Stereophonics, who steal the title with their greatest single since
Dakota. The spine-tingling melancholia of
You’re My Star provides a softer-edged sound for the band, but the raw, gravelly melodies are still very much on show. What better way to cap a ten-year career and lead into their Best Of? Or, more aptly, cover up
Superman?
Whinging shite-sack and all-round pain in the cock
Adele makes another stab at matching the inexplicable success of the loathsome
Chasing Pavements. Yes, in spite of all ensuing singles barely denting the lower end of the Top 250, the grim Biffa unveils
Make You Feel My Love, a truly depressing bleatalong fit for the dumper. And, for the record, we imagine Adele’s love smells like the underside of a North Sea trawler mixed with chip fat.
And sticking with the Brit School, we come to a slightly less irritating graduate in the form of
Leona Lewis. Having already milked her debut album of a massive two singles (and no, we don’t count the truly cuntish
A Moment Like This), the Cowell Cash Cow heralds a shameless repackage in the form of
Forgive Me, a forgettable and nauseatingly sexless attempt at uptempo. Mind you, the accompanying video proves great fun – the dullest woman in music also dances like a white man.
Prior to this week’s Single Reviews, we feel we must address our actions. In light of recent events, it’s come to our attention that some readers may have been offended by our past slaegin of Mika. We apologise unreservedly for any upset these remarks caused Mika or his family. As a result, we’ll be suspending The Sloppy Dog for three days, and Tim Berners-Lee, who is obviously responsible in the bigger picture, will be retiring from the internet, effective immediately.
Aptly for a release this close to Halloween, a startlingly good debut by the intriguing VV Brown, which sounds dangerously similar to The Monster Mash. And, for all the sarcasm abused on this blog, we say this as a good thing. Crying Blood is the sort of delightful peculiarity doused in Sixties goodness that Solange Knowles’ album was sorely bereft of. With any luck, this is merely the start of something huge.
It’s safe to assume VV Brown would’ve been a certainty for Single of the Week had it not been for the Stereophonics, who steal the title with their greatest single since Dakota. The spine-tingling melancholia of You’re My Star provides a softer-edged sound for the band, but the raw, gravelly melodies are still very much on show. What better way to cap a ten-year career and lead into their Best Of? Or, more aptly, cover up Superman?
Whinging shite-sack and all-round pain in the cock Adele makes another stab at matching the inexplicable success of the loathsome Chasing Pavements. Yes, in spite of all ensuing singles barely denting the lower end of the Top 250, the grim Biffa unveils Make You Feel My Love, a truly depressing bleatalong fit for the dumper. And, for the record, we imagine Adele’s love smells like the underside of a North Sea trawler mixed with chip fat.
And sticking with the Brit School, we come to a slightly less irritating graduate in the form of Leona Lewis. Having already milked her debut album of a massive two singles (and no, we don’t count the truly cuntish A Moment Like This), the Cowell Cash Cow heralds a shameless repackage in the form of Forgive Me, a forgettable and nauseatingly sexless attempt at uptempo. Mind you, the accompanying video proves great fun – the dullest woman in music also dances like a white man.
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