The Sloppy Dog.co.uk - Scrutinising pop culture since, like, forever

Mull Historical Society - City Awakenings (Xtra Mile Recordings)

2012-01-24T12:30:00.003Z

What’s in a name? For Colin Macintyre, seemingly something more than merely what appears on your passport. The transition from initial guise Mull Historical Society to Colin Macintyre evidently came from a need to forge something more personal, something that hiding behind a quirky moniker and a dog in a wig might’ve made slightly more difficult, in all fairness.

So after one triumphant, pop-heavy masterpiece (The Water) and a dour, sub-par non-starter (Island) under his birth name, the Mull Historical Society tag has been reappointed. But to what effect, if any, for sixth album overall City Awakenings?

First and foremost, it appears to reinstate the bright, indie-pop audacity of debut Loss, all explosive choruses and killer hooks and full-on abandon. But there’s simultaneously an extended distance from there to here, with Macintyre’s voice in particular sounding exceptionally strong, every note walloped with fervour.

There’s also the appearance of the occasional kooky vocal tic, best embodied on the rattling drumbeats of Can You Let Her Know, before its titanic chorus floors everything in its path. Elsewhere, the one-man Polyphonic Spree of Must You Get Low further showcases the quietly eccentric grandeur he does so well.

But it doesn’t mean City Awakenings is all sunshine and big arrangements beginning to end – there are some modest, reflective moments dotted throughout, while the haunting, instrumental skank of Thameslink (London’s Burning) makes for a bold and moving climax to proceedings.

So, with that covered, what exactly is the difference between Mull Historical Society and Colin Macintyre? Very little. City Awakenings is no less personal or emotive or charming than anything else he’s done, and whatever prompted Island’s misfire has been fully patched up. Regardless of who he’s signed to or how he’s marketed or what he’s calling himself, there’s little to deny the pull or the talent of an artist whose self-carved niche is producing something very special indeed.

Honking Box Review: Masterchef

2012-01-20T09:30:00.004Z

Masterchef is a show we’ve shied away from previously. Well, not so much ‘shied away’ as ‘run screaming from all televisions, covering your ears’. But last year’s rejigged format proved impossible to resist, and so the proverbial party poppers are back out again for a new series, especially now they’ve run out of ways to spread the Great British Bake-Off brand as thinly as possible.

Yes, Gregg and John are back, once again on the hunt for a person wot can cook, and can translate that skill into a moderately successful recipe book. Seemingly, their hunt for a Mini Heston wasn't satiated by the questionable, stomach-turning-on-paper – but ultimately champion – flavour combinations of last year's winner Tim. The unofficial brief is once again someone who takes risks, but more often than not results in what sounds like the culinary offerings of Letitia Cropley from The Vicar of Dibley.

As for Gregg and John themselves, it’s almost impossible to fathom that the pair have miraculously gotten less loathsome. And if John’s pathetic “I WANT THAT CURRY SAUCE, WAH WAH WAH” tantrum was any indication, they haven’t.

(Top tip! Watch with subtitles on, and the volume muted. It makes the Wallace/Torode element infinitely less painful.)

More likely, their overt cuntishness has been merely offset by the significantly more unpleasant head chef of Gilgamesh, whose appearance must have been an ingenious plan to ward off customers as part of some kind of elaborate taxloss scheme. He may as well stand outside the premises, foaming at every orifice and screaming “FRESH HOT PLAGUE! Get your plague here!”

(...Which, bearing in mind it’s in Camden Market, isn’t entirely implausible.)

The contestants are the usual bunch of competent, wacky, weepy, clumsy and trainwreck, so even if there’s not a worthy winner in the mix, there’ll at least be some entertaining television. Somewhat unfairly, the selection process was a bit of a first come, first served affair, with five hopefuls put through in the first episode, leaving just three places for the last eight competitors. Mind you, if the same rules had been applied to the first series of Pop Idol, we’d have been spared a decade of Will Young sounding like the mating call of a walrus with a headcold.

The current favourite round these parts is Aki. Partly because she’s a quantum physicist (which is up there with ‘marine biologist’ and ‘chocolatier’ as one of the coolest-sounding job titles ever), partly because her food looks amazing, and partly because she’s responsible for facial expressions such as these:

With the track record of Masterchef champs being very heavily male, even though the sole female winner gave us the immense Wahaca, we don’t fancy Aki’s chances much. At this stage, however, she’s head and shoulders above the competition.

No doubt that’ll all fluctuate across the course of the series, when the contestants are made to cook a nine-course feast from the comfort of a genuine WW1 trench in the middle of a re-enactment, or have a head chef with stinking breath screaming orders in their face until they cry, or fillet an entire deer underwater, with just two minutes of oxygen, using just a clothespeg. Frankly, we can’t wait.

Howler - America Give Up (Rough Trade)

2012-01-16T11:00:00.000Z

Our end-of-2011 rant about how the charts have turned into some sort of awful, overproduced pop marshland still stands. But with a new year comes new hope, and amongst the small-but-assured list of promising new releases is the debut album from Minnesota five-piece Howler: it’s cocky, surf-heavy, semi-countrified, and all kinds of noisy. But is it any good.

A mere couple of bars into Beach Sluts, the opening track of America Give Up, and it’s already pretty clear Howler mean business. A frenetic yet rhythmic carnival of amp-shaking alt-rock, you’d be forgiven for wondering how they’ll maintain that energy throughout. And yet, they manage it.

The pace slows down from time to time, such as the brooding Too Much Blood, but the scratchy, intense stamp is still very much present. In contrast, the few occasions they employ a major key – yet still maintaining the Howler passion – makes for an interesting blend. In fact, the surf guitar jollity of Told You Once or lead single Back of Your Neck arguably provide the album’s standout moments.

Another artist tackling such busy productions would have difficulty selling it as anything other than white noise. But Howler have a gift for instantaneous, infectious choruses, that every crunching riff, every wallop of the cymbal, every superfluous bit of noodling create the perfect backing for.

The intense, unforgiving arrangements and the snarling vocals are unlikely to please everyone, occasionally sitting just this side of uncomfortable. But crucially, it’s not fully there – it’s sometimes a hard listen, perhaps, but it’s a worthwhile one.

The wet-behind-the-ears enthusiasm of America Give Up has a touch of early Kings of Leon about it – not sonically, but in that it conjures up the very real possibility of greatness. Who knew that the distinguished mix of ‘a little bit country, a little bit rock ‘n’ roll’ could result in something so bold, so vibrant, and so brilliantly cacophonous?

The Sloppy Dog 2011 Honours List

2011-12-31T10:00:00.007Z

Hilary Devey
You could make her foot itch, sunshine
A breath of fresh air to the waning Dragons’ Den, Hilary Devey turned heads from even her first appearance on the trailer (although that was mainly based on her looking like a conceptual art piece). However, once the show was underway she turned out to be ballsy and straight-talking yet warm and human. We’d love her even more if she’d bump off Bannatyne.

Sky Arts
Music TV's brave saviour
The sorry excuse for a Christmas Top of the Pops this year was yet another reminder that TV is sorely bereft of music performance shows. Thankfully, one lone channel is fighting the cause like no other – Sky Arts’ music output puts its terrestrial contemporaries to shame, and hopefully will prompt the pen-pushing commissioners of certain other channels to follow suit.

Ed Sheeran
A middle finger to the Rihannabots
A chap whose heart-on-sleeve simplicity has many a music snob eyerolling up and down the country, but his talent is truly immense. Having caught him in a pre-signed, 100-capacity gig some time ago, he showed the promise of brilliance, and he’s made good on it. A pleasing reminder that hard work really can pay off.

Goldie Cheung
Batshit crazy; incredibly shrewd
Let’s face it, she’s pretty damn talentless. But Goldie Cheung’s refusal to take part in what proved to be the most contrived and counterfeit series of The X Factor to date was a genuinely admirable move. And not many people can wrap their leg around Gary Barlow’s neck half-dressed and come out the other side with this much dignity.

Amy Winehouse
1983 - 2001; irreplaceable
British music lost an institution in 2011 with the sad, if horribly inevitable, death of Amy Winehouse. Sure, she had her flaws – something which was reported on a hell of a lot more than her positives – but the untouchable musical legacy left behind says significantly more than a million trashy column inches ever could.

Pulp
For services to music and general awesomeness
Their comeback was every bit as triumphant as we could’ve hoped for, both their Wireless headline slot and Brixton Academy gig highlighting their charisma, their talent, and their staggeringly impressive catalogue of Britpop magnificence. With any luck, 2012 will see some new material of the same quality.

The Bluetones
Hounslow Heroes
While one example of Britpop royalty came together for a reunion, a criminally less-celebrated Britpop act announced their split. The Bluetones, even in their more hushed recent years, provided some of the greatest indie anthems in existence. Farewell, The Bluetones. Now hurry up and get cracking on that comeback tour.

Twitter
(Except when it's shit)
To paraphrase someone, Twitter is like an exclusive party with cool, attractive strangers; Facebook is a rainy barbecue at your aunt’s house. And that aforementioned someone is a person we don’t know or follow, retweeted by a person we follow but don’t know. And that’s why Twitter rules – it’s a custom-made pick ‘n’ mix of brilliance, sans social awkwardness.

The Sloppy Dog's Best of 2011: Albums

2011-12-22T15:00:00.001Z

While we’ve had to concede that the singles chart is now the realm of piss-weak Rihannatastic cannibalised McPop, at least the album world has yet to be infected to the same extent. Notable omissions from this year’s final ten include Alice Gold, Tim Wheeler & Emmy The Great, Bright Eyes and Thirteen Senses, but let’s turn our attentions to those that did make the cut...

10. Neon Trees - Habits
Opening the list are Utah candyfloss rockers Neon Trees, with an album originally released Stateside way back in March 2010. This year saw its eventual arrival in Blighty, and it proved to be worth the wait. Habits was laden with huge pop melodies and addictive punk riffs, blended together seamlessly for a defined, cohesive and hugely enjoyable collection.
Key Track: Animal

9. Ed Sheeran - +
A rather lacklustre mish-mash of his EPs it may have been on paper, but the quality of Ed Sheeran’s debut was otherwise hard to contest. The peculiar marriage of timorous acoustic ballads and cocky, head-turning semi-rap somehow worked exceptionally well, and deservedly pushed a genuinely remarkable new talent firmly into the mainstream.
Key Track: Drunk

8. Melanie C - The Sea
While Melanie C’s last three albums have been solid, unified bodies of work, The Sea is a return to the pleasing patchwork quality of Northern Star, jumping from lush ballads to fiery girl-rawk to demi-electro thumpers and back again. Whether she’ll ever repeat the success of her debut is up to the public, but The Sea proves the material itself is more than capable.
Key Track: Burn

7. Friendly Fires - Pala
A vigorous, funk-laden and charismatic follow-up to their exceptional debut, Pala was a smart and effective next move for Friendly Fires. Brazilian beats, swooning house rhythms and spellbinding vocals, all capped with a keen injection of Britishness and even a slight indie campness, it’s hard to think of another band better equipped for a Coldplay-esque stadium transition.
Key Track: Chimes

6. Nicola Roberts - Cinderella’s Eyes
A confident, intelligent and stylish debut from perhaps the least likely member of Girls Aloud. But that was part of the beauty of Cinderella’s Eyes – it was a window into a mysterious and misunderstood individual, not only unveiling her character but doing so with a musicality and an imaginative, earnest quality her band have yet to achieve, either solo or as a unit.
Key Track: Yo-Yo

5. The Vaccines - What Did You Expect From The Vaccines?
Touted as 2011’s big hope by all and sundry this time a year ago, it was fortunate that The Vaccines had the talent to live up to the hype. What Did You Expect From The Vaccines made its mark with certainty – it was youthful, it was boisterous and it was addictive; an album which, in the most positive, complimentary way, left us wanting much, much more.
Key Track: Wreckin' Bar (Ra Ra Ra)

And here’s where it all gets a bit difficult. While 2011 has provided us with some rather impressive albums, there hasn’t been one particular standout offering, as has been the case in previous years. So from here on in, let’s call it a four-way tie for the top spot...

Guillemots - Walk The River
While the superb solo effort from frontman Fyfe Dangerfield was crowned our best album of 2010, the Guillemots as a band don’t have the greatest track record when it comes to albums. Walk The River, however, finally broke the curse, stealthily flitting between dark, introspective moments and huge give-away-the-farm indie-pop magnificence.
Key Track: The Basket

Miles Kane - Colour of the Trap
The beguiling, Sixties-infused indie of lead track Rearrange has already gotten the bronze medal as far as the Singles of 2011 are concerned, so it’s hardly a surprise to see Colour of the Trap taking some acclaim as well. Gloriously unpretentious yet effortlessly cool; current yet classic; varied yet consistent. Best Male at the 2012 Brit Awards, please.
Key Track: Rearrange

Little Jackie - Made For TV
An album that was sprung on us from out of nowhere, the follow-up to 2008’s exceptional The Stoop arrived in August with little warning. But Made For TV proved to be the best kind of surprise. Tongue-in-cheek social commentary executed with a breezy charm and an unrivalled knack for a captivating hook – essentially, everything we’ve come to love about Little Jackie.
Key Track: Take Back the World

CocknBullKid - Adulthood
Initially, Adulthood felt like a nice stop-gap while we wait for VV Brown to make good on her second album, but repeated listens revealed a unique magnetism, soulful but playful, and worthy of far greater attention than it actually received. Easily one of 2011’s best new artists, long may the pleasurable, Londoncentric charm of CocknBullKid reign.
Key Track: Asthma Attack

The Sloppy Dog's Worst of 2011: TV

2011-12-20T16:00:00.003Z

Our next End of Year countdown looks at the worst television 2011 has had to offer. There are some notable exceptions from the ten – let’s just assume that annual offenders Sky News, The Jeremy Kyle Show and Eastenders will forever be in every worst TV list ever compiled until the Google/Apple Coalition World Government deem lists of every kind illegal, sometime in the 2020s. That’s not to say that there wasn’t plenty of utter guff left to choose from...

10. Epic Win
An entire television format built around an internet catchphrase perhaps isn’t the strongest premise for a Saturday night gameshow, but when you consider it’s essentially a low-budget rehash of You Bet, it reveals itself to be even more of a trainwreck. A deserving dose of poetic justice, then, that Epic Win turned out to be a monumentally epic fail.

9. The X Factor
The gutter press blamed the departure of Cowell and Cole for a lacklustre series, but if anything, their absence improved proceedings. What let The X Factor down was the blatant transparency in not just the pimping of certain acts, but in offering others up for sacrifice. Meanwhile, Tulisa’s treatment of Misha B made for a new benchmark in malice, even by this show’s standards.

8. Waterloo Road
“Let’s have a high-budget impromptu fashion show in the school gym! Let’s rewrite the entire curriculum in an afternoon! Let’s introduce storylines tackled by Grange Hill with far more finesse two decades ago! Let’s write dialogue a million miles from how anyone ever talks in any walk of life!” Artistic license is one thing, but this shit is verging on accidental sci-fi.

7. Sing If You Can
It’s hard not to love Stacey Solomon, bless her, but the truly bizarre Sing If You Can was a low-rent mash-up of D-list celebrities, terrible karaoke and humiliating challenges. In short, it was the Channel 5 ‘classic’ Night Fever, with added baked-bean-baths and witchetty grub munching. When the most dignified thing on your CV from the last year is an Iceland ad, it’s time to get a new agent.

6. Primeval
What began as a promising action series for all the family soon morphed into an awkward, watered-down mess, riddled with plotholes. Granted, Primeval didn’t have an easy time of it, being given the chop then thrown a lifeline by a pan-global mix of broadcasters, but it seems to be a case of too many cooks. Are they really still planning a film version...?

5. Don't Scare The Hare
In fairness, Don’t Scare The Hare was the kind of misfire channels should be making. After the success of Total Wipeout, it’s clear to see why things went down this route, plus it was certainly offering something different. It’s just a shame it ended up on BBC One on Saturday nights rather than on Nickelodeon being played by six-year-olds.

4. Red or Black
An even more uninspired gameshow than the aforementioned Epic Win, this was a definite low point in 2011’s TV offerings. You can hang all the bells and whistles on it that the ITV1 budget will allow; it’s still, at the end of the day, an entire series centred on the concept of guessing either A or B. Gifting a million quid to an ex-con is the least of their troubles when the show itself is this lame.

3. So You Think You Can Dance
It’s difficult to think of another show of this ilk where so little effort or passion was put into it, let alone budget or publicity. In the US, it’s an explosive, fast-paced, attention-grabbing entertainment show; the horrific, half-arsed UK reboot had Cat Deeley reinventing the word ‘disingenuous’, the world’s dullest judging panel, contestants it was nigh on impossible to care about, and the all production values of a primary school nativity play.

2. Sunday AM
Granted, not a show that ordinarily makes for regular viewing round these parts, but the occasions where it’s popped up via a session of lazy Sunday channel-hopping has proved it to be truly painful television, all down to the unfathomable snobbery of Andrew Marr. His sniffing at popular culture is hilarious, a key moment being his pretence at not knowing what The X Factor is. You’re educated, we get it. Also: the opening music is what plays 24 hours a day in Hell.

1. The Tudors
And a once-entertaining, if always ridiculous, show takes the unenviable title of 2011’s worst television show. The Tudors was rarely anything more than a 15th Century take on The Red Shoe Diaries, playing it fast and loose with historical fact and relying on knockers ‘n’ gore. But Jonathan Rhys Meyers’ portrayal of Henry VIII was like a bad impression of Father Jack Hackett that got less and less funny. Arguably one of the worst pieces of acting ever witnessed, it ensured the series went out on an entirely new low.

The Sloppy Dog's Best of 2011: TV

2011-12-18T11:00:00.001Z

While the world of music had little to offer us in 2011, television picked up the slack. There was tough competition for a spot in the ten greatest TV shows of the year, and just missing the list were brilliant new comedies Trollied and Fresh Meat; an iffy-but-addictive Torchwood: Miracle Day; the mesmerising Frozen Planet; an incredible conclusion to Spooks; and the gloriously high-gloss, low-rent tits-and-explosions-fest of Strike Back: Project Dawn. But on to those that did make the cut...

10. Episodes
A peculiar transatlantic co-production perhaps shouldn’t have worked quite as well as this, and the holes were undoubtedly visible, but Matt LeBlanc’s bravely self-deprecating portrayal of himself and the partnership of Stephen Mangan and Tamsin Greig made for a hugely entertaining – and fairly innovative – new comedy. (The ultimate kudos goes to Daisy Haggard for her hilarious facial expressions.)

9. Shameless USA
It’s rare that a remake manages to outdo the original, and we’re almost ashamed to say the US update trumps the British version, but it almost feels like a different show altogether. Faster, sharper, and boasting some outstanding chemistry from its impressive cast, it’s a chance to enjoy classic Shameless brilliance on a whole new level. (FYI – Americans also do mustard better.)

8. The Cafe
A prime example of Sky1’s unlikely new role as bastions of British comedy, The Cafe was a sitcom with a rare warmth and a uniquely Westcountry charm. It may have been gentle and lulling in tone, but the scripts were uproariously funny, delivered with scrupulous timing from an exceptional cast. And as a bonus, the potential for catchphrases is immense. Alright? Alright. Alright?

7. The Big C
The very concept of a comedy series centred around cancer is hard to get your head around, and on paper, far from appealing. Yet The Big C proved to be an affectionate, intelligent, sharp, heartbreaking and hilarious tale, with Laura Linney’s performance a particular highlight. With such an epic climax, it’s both intriguing and exciting to see where the next series will go.

6. The Walking Dead
The seemingly-neverending hunt for Sophia made this half of Series Two drag ever so slightly, but the emotion, the tension, the gore and the inappropriate laughter were very much present. Shane’s metamorphosis into full-on villain was mesmerising, the zombie in the well was distressingly funny, and the final twist was truly gut-wrenching. Bring on the second half.

5. Campus
Sadly culled by Channel 4 after just one series, but it was unlikely the public at large would take to something as absurdly dark as Campus. Andy Nyman’s twisted Vice Chancellor was the star attraction, but that’s not to detract from any of the other components that made Campus such a hysterical, enchanting and downright bizarre comedy gem.

4. Shooting Stars
And the second axed show in a row comes in the form of Shooting Stars, an inexcusable victim of BBC Two’s entertainment cull. Still, at least the series went out on a high, with yet another torrent of eye-wateringly funny moments: Vic Reeves’ bullying of the buzzard, Bob Mortimer’s turn as David Furnish, Brigitte Nielsen completely missing the point, and the highly-disturbing Archie Andrews, to name but a few. Here’s hoping a channel with some sense throws it a lifeline.

3. The Great British Bake-Off
Once again proving to be one of the most watchable, discussion-worthy and entertaining elimination formats in years, The Great British Bake-Off combines mouth-watering food, genuinely knowledgeable judges (*cough*Tulisa*cough*), lovable presenters, and bizarrely gripping moments of jeopardy. Who knew a falling cake or a misspelt word atop a ganache could provide two of 2011’s TV highlights?

2. Misfits
Having taken the top spot last year, Misfits has to do with second place this time around. Perhaps the all-too-easy act of murder – now a weekly occurrence – makes it the wrong kind of implausible, but aside from that, it’s still one of British TV’s greatest offerings. The addition of Joseph Gilgun as Rudy heightens the show significantly, leaving Nathan a distant memory, while the outstanding Lauren Socha continues to justify that BAFTA win.

1. True Blood
And having bubbled away in the runner-up position for the past two years, True Blood makes a deserving climb to the top. The introduction of all manner of new supernatural creatures had much of the internet eye-rolling, but it bore the hilarious moment Sookie found out what she was (“How fucking lame!”). Aside from that, True Blood was responsible for the TV moment of the year, Russell storming the newsroom for the greatest monologue since the heady days of Annie Douglas. Season 4 kicks off on FX in February, and frankly, it can’t come soon enough.

The Sloppy Dog's Worst of 2011: Singles

2011-12-15T15:30:00.002Z

It’s been a barren year for music, with the pop genre in particular churning out some truly awful material. The likes of Pixie Lott and The Saturdays have rarely been bastions of pop greatness, as evidenced by their awful output in 2011, but even the more reliable contenders such as JLS have produced some serious tripe. Luckily for them, none of them have made our final ten...

10. Cher Lloyd - Swagger Jagger
You can’t stop! Looking at her! MySpacing her! Chattin’ shit ‘bout her! That makes you’s a hater, but we’s also’s a hater, so you’s in good company. Some begrudging respect must go to Lloyd for such brazenness, and it certainly got people talking, but beyond that, it’s hard not to actively detest every single note of Swagger Jagger.

9. Viva Brother – Darling Buds of May
Initially, the promise of such a Britpop-heavy entity was hugely appealing, but in its execution, it all went horribly, horribly wrong, laden down with piss-weak riffs, scoff-inducing lyrics and affected vocals. Had this appeared at the heady days of the genre’s reign, it would’ve been laughed out of the Melody Maker within its first eight bars.

8. Kreayshawn - Gucci Gucci
It’s a mercy that this slithery, sub-Ke$ha trampfest didn’t perform better than it did, although just a couple of seconds exposure is all it takes to poison your system, with irreversible effects. That said, you can take some amusement from the fact that, even amidst all its attitude and boastfulness and supposed stabs at credibility, it just sounds like The Llama Song slowed down.

7. Jason DeRulo - Don't Wanna Go Home
He’s always been partial to the more peculiar sample, as far back as his passable debut single Whatcha Say. But the interpolation of The Banana Boat Song – a song whose inclusion in Beetlejuice and/or 1980s Trio ads is hard to shake off – was one sample too far. And for the love of God, STOP SINGING YOUR BLOODY NAME. Just look what happened to Craig David.

6. Nicole Scherzinger – Right There
Becoming one of the most loathed women on television thanks to her many X Factor USA misfires, ol’ Shitsinger’s popularity is taking quite a plummet lately, and yet, her musical output is still the worst thing about her. Right There was a desperate stab at Rihanna-style sluttiness, grinding away scuzzily, rhyming ‘dirty’ with ‘dirty’, and all stuffed to the gills with cod-Patois.

5. Yasmin - Finish Line
A song with so little substance it barely even exists. It’s mad that a producer actually finished this beige puddle and thought “Hey, that’s pretty good.” Or that a label executive thought it single material. Or that DJs considered it worth playing. Even with its peculiar nod to Mortal Kombat , it was the single most boring track since Sixpence None The Richer shat their sappy Christian crud all over the charts.

4. SBTRKT – Wildfire
Actually not a million miles from Finish Line in that it’s pretty much a lukewarm cesspool of swilling ad-libs and R&B clichés, but its constant overplay on 6Music was the final nail in its coffin. As producers, SBTRKT certainly know how to work a mixing desk, but somewhere along the line, they got very, very stoned and created this molten, miserable, slapdash non-entity of a song.

3. The Wanted - Glad You Came
Proving that All Time Low was (a) very much a one-off, and (b) way too good for them, The Wanted continue in their quest – even in the presence of One Direction – to become Britain’s most pointless boyband. The foolish Balearic squelch of Glad You Came was utterly devoid of character, and urinated all over the very concept of house music. Well done, all parties involved. *slow clap*

2. Adele - Rumour Has It
Rolling In The Deep just missed out on a place in our countdown of undesirables, on account of it sounding like a particularly violent yawn, but the insipid Rumour Has It manages the feat. Adele’s actually gone up in our estimations this year, but the complete lack of chorus here cannot be excused. One can only assume this was written on the back of a fag packet in five minutes one hungover morning.

1. Rihanna - What's My Name
Technically released in 2010 – but then, technically, it’s not even actual music – this discharge-splattered, dishwater-dull, airplay-rapist of a track lived well into 2011, polluting airwaves with its abysmal lyrics, its teeth-grinding hook and its general Rihanna-ness. And while the woman herself carries much of the blame, radio, TV and press should be ashamed of themselves, consistently peddling this useless creature’s atrocious output, irrespective of quality. If pop music really is dying on its arse, it’s down to fucking inexcusable tripe like this being put on a pedestal.

The Sloppy Dog's Best of 2011: Singles

2011-12-11T18:00:00.002Z

With Christmas fast approaching, it's time for the annual tradition of both kissing arse and kicking arse, as we unveil the Bestest and Worstest of the past 12 months. We begin on a positive, with the greatest singles the year has had to offer. Ordinarily we have difficulty whitting down a lengthy list of singles to a definitive ten, but 2011 has been a sorely barren year for new music. Decent new music, at least. In fact, even finding a worthy ten has been a bit of a struggle. But the struggle was worth it, as we’ve come up with a list of good ‘uns...

10. Two Door Cinema Club – Something Good Can Work
Starting us off are a band whose debut album received many a spin and a place on our Best Albums list of 2010, so it’s little surprise Two Door Cinema Club are back to fill a spot this year. Something Good Can Work married a near-calypso rhythm with good ol’ indie foundations for yet another example of Bangor's finest.

9. Morning Parade - A&E
Battering many an earphone back in February were Morning Parade, with the burning, intense A&E, a dancefloor-directed indie-rock hymn. And as if it weren’t vigorous enough in its original guise, A&E spun off an onslaught of intriguing remixes, prompting even the most stubborn of B-sides purists to concede the brilliance.

8. Manic Street Preachers - Postcards From A Young Man
One of the stand-out cuts from the 2010 album of the same name, the crashing riffs and lavish strings of Postcards From A Young Man proved the Manics’ best is far from behind them. And, as previously documented on these pages, the slight parallels with Melanie C’s Northern Star gives ‘em a few bonus points and all.

7. David Cook - The Last Goodbye
Ordinarily, such an unashamedly wholesome slice of radio-friendly American Pie wouldn’t go down too well round these parts, but the instantaneous melodies and colossal chorus of The Last Goodbye proved impossible to resist. A terminally uncool display of grown-up power-pop it may be, but in a world of increasing music snobbery, that only heightens its appeal.

6. Glasvegas - Shine Like Stars
Second album EUPHORIC /// HEARTBREAK \\\ proved Glasvegas were no one-trick ponies. And heading up the new direction was Shine Like Stars – soaring, emotive vocals over a bed of subtle, twinkly electronica which gives way to a thundering wall of drums and guitars. So good we can even overlook the album title’s absolutely fucking ludicrous use of punctuation.

5. Summer Camp – Down
A cyclical, captivating gem that soundtracked a long, dreary Autumn and made it that bit more bearable. An uptempo yet refrigerated indie pop anthem-in-the-making, Down was the perfect introduction to Summer Camp (complete with ingenious video) and shines a light on the duo as something worth getting rather excited about for 2012.

4. Nicola Roberts - Lucky Day
The melancholic charm of Lucky Day made for an intelligent, spellbinding (and unfortunately, criminally underrated) portion of classy pop from a singer whose time in the spotlight was long overdue. Let’s hope if and when Girls Aloud eventually reform, we get to hear a bit less Clubcard Coyle, and a whole lot more of this.

3. Miles Kane - Rearrange
Uplifting indie with a dash of darkness and a splendid Sixties overtone, Rearrange proved to be one of 2011’s most addictive tracks. Plucked from a similarly impressive album (more on that in our Best Albums list), Rearrange underlined Miles Kane as a formidable talent above and beyond that of his various band memberships.

2. Guillemots - The Basket
Fyfe Dangerfield provided us with the album of 2010 a year ago in the form of Fly Yellow Moon, and he’s kept the momentum going, regrouping with Guillemots for one of this year’s greatest albums, and from it, one of this year’s greatest singles. Daring, energetic and compulsive, The Basket’s thunderous beats and speeding falsetto may have been relatively new ground for Guillemots, but the results were truly exceptional.

1. The Vaccines - Post Break-Up Sex
And taking the crown is a balls-out tale of awkwardness, bitterness and remorse from the Vaccines, a band who’ve deservedly gained some serious momentum throughout 2011. To be able to turn such uncomfortable subject matter into such an enjoyable, addictive, and unorthodox rock anthem is the mark of something pretty special indeed, hence its position atop our countdown. In contrast, check back soon for the worst the year had to offer...

Single Reviews 04/12/11

2011-12-02T14:00:00.000Z

This week’s Single Reviews is a surprisingly positive affair, which is a rare occurrence. It’s actually quite unsettling. Rest assured, we’ll be back to our usual bitter outlook before too long. No doubt with the X Factor final in sight, it won’t just be back, it’ll be coarser than ever. But for now, enjoy this brief moment of optimism. Just don’t get too used to it...

We begin with Katy Perry, who thankfully is keeping the smutty, unfunny innuendo to a minimum on the acceptably treacly The One That Got Away. If you can overlook the “I’m-really-credible-honest” references to Johnny Cash and Radiohead, and unintentionally hilarious video, it’s actually a pleasing few minutes of midtempo melancholy that far outshines her seemingly endless torrent of cheesy underage disco fodder.

In the wake of the Westlife split, there’ll be a fair few surplus key changes knocking about the music industry – but fear not, as Beyoncé has used literally all of them in Love On Top. Go on, count ‘em, there’s like 19 or something. But it makes for a big, commanding track in what starts life as a fairly bland 80s soul offering, so kudos for managing to keep our attention and create what’s actually quite the head-turner.

We’re not big ol’ fans of re-releases round these parts, but five years (give or take a couple of months) is probably an acceptable amount of time between stabs at the chart, plus this take on Rosé is a reworked version, so we can forgive The Feeling. Stripped back to just piano and strings, it’s a more modest yet significantly more dramatic arrangement, and proves itself as a stunning piece of music the band have yet to top.

And we round things off with Example, who grits his teeth for the expressive dubstep of Midnight Run. It’s heavy but melodic, and does a good job in managing to convey such an intense level of sentiment over such busy beats, with the rap breakdown adding another dimension to proceedings. Tough competition on this particular round-up, but Midnight Run is a well-deserved Single of the Week.

Single Reviews 27/11/11

2011-11-25T13:00:00.000Z

Well hello! Welcome to this week’s Single Reviews, in which we lay into the new offerings from an R&B gobshite whose output is 75% him singing his own name; 2011’s new darling of the most uninspired airwaves; an indie band more pop than most pop bands; and a honking, horsefaced dullard from a reality show that’s well and truly jumped the shark. Shit, hope we’re not doubling up on what they’re covering in Newsnight Review later...?

Next up, a woman so dull she makes Leona Lewis seem like an explosion of hyperactive Fraggles at a Scissor Sisters concert on the Moon, the beyond dreary Rebecca Ferguson. Her X Factor performances and her personality left a hell of a lot to be desired, a pattern repeated in her debut single, Nothing’s Real But Love. A yawnsome, slippery puddle of a ballad, devoid of a beginning, middle or end, and arguably bereft of any kind of tune. Nauseatingly, unforgivably bland.

Single of the Week goes to The Wombats, who present another clipping from This Modern Glitch, on this occasion the more-than-passable 1996. The melancholic synth hum and modest melody make for a slightly darker, calmer affair, one that works rather nicely. Perhaps it’s not the most exciting example of their output, but it’s a nice contrast to some of the noisier end of their catalogue, and the rousing chant that closes proceedings underlines it as classic Wombat goodness.

Christina Perri has a hard time ahead of her, presumably hoping that new single Arms will get even the slightest modicum of interest in the wake of the increasingly-colossal Jar of Hearts. It offers up something fairly different to its predecessor though, launching into a pulsing, fem-rock ballad midway through, bearing the kind of production you’d expect-slash-hope from an aloof, emo Bonnie Tyler, and more than a hint of staying power.

And finally, Jason Derulo, a man whose peculiar choice of samples is on the verge of outdoing both Cher Lloyd and JLS. This time, it’s Toto’s Africa which gets mutated into an overproduced, bubbling midtempo monstrosity, going by the name Fight For You. Take away the wee bursts of tribal chatter and it’s like a How To in R&B clichés, as though it were composed via Taio Cruz-branded wordplay refrigerator magnets.

Emmy The Great & Tim Wheeler (Infectious) - This Is Christmas

2011-11-21T12:15:00.000Z

It’s hard not to get your Scrooge on when you hear All I Want For Christmas Is You for the millionth time. Even the jolliest of elves must surely groan at the same tired standards spun again and again. So it’s always a welcome sight when a contemporary artist embarks on a Christmas project, particularly when the likes of The Killers and The Boy Least Likely To have achieved it with such aplomb.

So imagine our excitement when arguably one of the greatest songwriters of the past 20 years, Tim Wheeler, announced his plans for a Christmas album alongside singer-songwriter Emmy The Great. With Ash on hiatus, an offering from Wheeler in any guise is a blessing. That said, This Is Christmas doesn’t sound like an Ash record – but why should it? It’s a Christmas album first and foremost, and thus, making an album for Christmas is its only objective. Fun is very much on the agenda here, and if titles such as Jesus The Reindeer don’t convey that, then the content certainly will.

Marshmallow World is every bit as daft, merry and eggnog-fuelled as any version that’s come before it, while Home For The Holidays could well have been recorded by Same Difference with little altered. And that’s certainly no bad thing – This Is Christmas summons up a joyfulness that even the cheesiest of pop acts would shun these days in pursuit of that elusive Radio 1 playlist spot.

The result? An album full of high points. Snowflakes marries synth and sleigh bells for a starry-eyed, 80s-tastic ballad; (Don’t Call Me) Mrs Christmas is a 60s girl group swingalong with a dash or two of rock sensibilities; and the addictive, inventive Zombie Christmas makes for an unlikely, yet superb, yuletide ditty for the 21st Century.

Just as Ash’s new-single-every-fortnight project saw them add some startlingly different new classics to their catalogue outside the constraints of an album, the gimmick aspect of a Christmas record also throws up similar opportunities. So while This Is Christmas might not quite unveil a genre-defining anthem, it shuns all ideas of credibility or marketability or developing a ‘now’ sound. Such details have no place on an album where unadulterated, unpretentious fun takes centre stage, and it benefits from it greatly. The merriment is that much more merry, the romance that bit more romantic. Call it corny if you want, but it’s a Christmas album, not just by nature, but very much in spirit.

Single Reviews 20/11/11

2011-11-17T14:15:00.000Z

Thank you for popping along to peruse this week’s Single Reviews, but alas, we are in mourning, so don’t expect any of them to be particularly positive. Then again, are they ever? But we digress. The BBC, in all their wisdom, have chosen to axe Shooting Stars. Apparently, there’s no room for comedy panel shows on BBC Two anymore (in a week where they announce a new one, and pilot another). Well done, Auntie. You’re really justifying that licence fee lately. *slow clap*

Britney Spears leads the pack this week with Criminal, a welcome venture away from her mechanical McHouse tedium. The nasal twang is unmistakeable, but it’s one of her less predictable offerings in recent years. From its peculiar hey-nonny-nonny intro to its midtempo strum to its understated chorus, it’s pretty different within the sphere of Britney. And yet, not really worth getting too excited about outside of said sphere.

Next under the proverbial microscope are Kasabian, who serve up another helping of the ludicrously-titled Velociraptor! in the guise of Re-wired. The intro offers up the suggestion of a slice of dirty, nonchalant rock, a promise made good once the monstrous chorus sinks its jagged teeth in. It doesn’t quite stand up to the peaks of their catalogue, but functions rather well on its own. Now, if they could just ease up on the superfluous punctuation...

Single of the Week goes to Emeli Sande ft Naughty Boy, with the dark, despairing greatness of Daddy. There are shades of Duffy in her voice here, which is no bad thing, particularly since we lost the original to The Curse of the Second Album (and, of course, THAT Diet Coke ad). But it’s the elegantly-trippy production that really sets her apart, and sets her up for what can only be Adele-level sales in 2012.

And we wrap up with Kelly Rowland, a woman whose business card once read Professional Second Fiddle. Oh, how things have changed. Now she’s star of the show on UK shores thanks to some talent show or something, but Down For Whatever sadly doesn’t move on from the Clubland clichés she’s become mistress of over the past few years. As great as she is on the X Factor panel, it seems musically she’s at her best when stood ten feet behind Beyoncé.

Single Reviews 06/11/11

2011-11-04T15:00:00.000Z

Welcome to this week’s Single Reviews, in which we not only lay into a selection of the week’s new releases, but also take the opportunity to celebrate the 15th birthday of Spice, the fucking magnificent debut album from the Spice Girls. Bear in mind we’re overlooking Mama when we say ‘magnificent’. But hey, Love Thing more than redresses the balance. Happy Birthday Spice, and a huge thank you to Woolworths on Streatham High Road for providing us with such iconic pop awesomeness (may you rest in peace).

A modest, jovial offering from The Kooks opens proceedings this week, a summery burst of radio-indie much needed in the barren, chilly darkness of GMT. Early listens would suggest Junk of the Heart commands two thumbs up - its simplicity and unpretentiousness make for a plus point on the surface, but further exposure highlights that there’s not much to the song beyond that. So we’ll downgrade it to just the one thumb up, with a side of “well, it’ll do”.

Sort-of-birthday-girl-ish Melanie C makes another push for her sorely-underperforming fifth LP The Sea, with the mature demi-ballad Weak. With its dramatic, emotive sounds and its strong Scandinavian melodies, it makes for a more-than-passable album track, but somehow falls down in its new guise as a single. Perhaps her rather vocal fanbase had a point when they called for Burn to be released. Maybe they should’ve done it more politely...

Having produced the worst record of their career thus far in the shape of the braindead She Makes Me Wanna, it’s time for JLS to head back to safer territory. Take A Chance On Me does the trick with ease, all earnest harmonies and ensnaring refrains and twinkly piano moments. Even though it has hordes of parallels with that whole With You /Tattoo / Irreplaceable crop, it’s still less derivative than She Makes Me Wanna, and nestles down for the Christmas market very nicely.

And finally, Single of the Week is awarded to Hackney/Wexford one-man mash-up and peddler of nu-blue-eyed soul Maverick Sabre. It takes a while before the enchantment of I Need fully takes hold, all jittery vocals backed by a straight-down-the-line shuffle. And truth be told, he still sounds like an Amy Winehouse vinyl played at the wrong speed, but given a bit of effort, something pretty special indeed reveals itself.

Single Reviews 30/10/11

2011-10-28T13:00:00.000+01:00

Welcome to this week’s Single Reviews, in a week in which the Syco machine was well and truly floored by a miniscule charity after attempts to steamroller over them backfired horribly; a week in which fans mourned the Westlife split; a week in which Chris Moyles’ listener figures took yet another dive. Sometimes, a nice bit of schadenfreude does a world of good.

Ah, 2000. The year that the Toploader album Onka’s Big Moka got a good few more spins round these parts than it was probably deserving of. The folly of youth and all that. Eleven years on, and they’re still hard at it, albeit on the other side of a long hiatus, with new single She Said. In fairness, it’s a definite progression from the pub garden indie of yore, a harder-edged but tuneful affair. Quite what its point is at this moment remains to be seen, but it’s hard to find fault with.

Beyoncé thankfully follows on from the most boring single of her career – the truly wearisome Best Thing I Never Had – with something far more fitting. Countdown is infectious, kittenish, bouncy, and almost functions as one long chorus. In essence, it’s Single Ladies Pt 2, and that’s no bad thing. Beyoncé can now proudly add a Single of the Week to her mantelpiece full of nice shiny Grammys. That’s assuming Countdown’s actually a single, and not just yet another random Beyoncé album track given a video and serviced to radio.

Another act papering over their previous release is Cher Lloyd, although let’s face it, she’s got a much harder job after the aural genocide that was Swagger Jagger. It was probably seemed a good move – get people talking, then swoop in with a far superior follow-up and change opinion ahead of the album release. Problem is, the playful pop of With Ur Love doesn’t pack much clout. But it does feel very much a Cher Lloyd record – whether you like her or not, she’s carving out a true niche for herself.

And rounding off proceedings is Shake It Off, the decidedly average launch single to (attempt to) herald the return of Florence & The Machine. The huge, affirmative chant of a chorus goes some way to making a statement, and the shuffling, elegant production carries its own merits. But it all feels strangely derivative, and not quite the impact an artist needs when they’re already branded with the style-over-substance marker.

Matt Cardle - Letters (Sony)

2011-10-17T12:00:00.001+01:00

In 2006, when Take That appeared on the final of The X Factor as guest performers alongside soon-to-be-winner Leona Lewis, Gary Barlow bravely called out Simon Cowell in front of millions of viewers, telling him he had a responsibility to create an album worthy of her talents. Cowell, perhaps surprisingly, obliged.

So it’s frustrating that he seems to have forgotten this sage recommendation ahead of the release of Letters, the debut album from deserving 2010 winner Matt Cardle. And it’s all the more frustrating that Barlow himself was responsible for launch single Run For Your Life, a drippy, overindulgent ballad and an instant turn-off as far as the album is concerned.

And aside from a question of quality, Run For Your Life is also very much a red herring, with Letters overall displaying a far more interesting and intelligent offering than its lead single would have you believe. Granted, Letters was never going to be anything groundbreaking, and it was obvious the Pearl Jam enthusiast within Cardle would be all but silenced. But, as a grand pop album with quietly plausible rock leanings, it ticks the box with some conviction.

It’s commercial enough to satiate both the horny housefrau demographic that voted for him in their millions, and the everyman market who’ll sheepishly download it in between pretending they genuinely like the Kaiser Chiefs. But there’s also a certain musicality present which reveals the artist at the heart of it, even if it isn’t laid fully bare in this particular setting.

That said, the unprocessed, orchestral Beat of a Breaking Heart goes a good part of the way there; and even taking Letters for its surface merits, Cardle boasts an enormous vocal and an admirable control, best displayed on the lukewarm-but-likeable All For Nothing, or the genuinely impressive anthemic indie of both Starlight and the title track.

So, that’s Letters. It’s no game-changer; it’s reliable; it’s listenable; and it’s got the raw materials to do great things. But ahead of being any of that, it’s a bombardment of tracks that would have made a better choice of first single than the tepid whimper of Run For Your Life. As cruel as it sounds, getting dropped would be the best thing that could happen to Matt Cardle. While his suicidal trudge through the promotional trail suggests his heart’s not in it, Letters itself denotes a spark of substantial talent. The gift of freedom would turn that spark into something else altogether, away from the foolish decisions of a clumsy label, or a TV show that’s fast becoming its own worst enemy.

Single Reviews 09/10/11

2011-10-09T12:00:00.000+01:00

Greetings, yo. Apologies we didn’t get to do an X Factor liveblog last night, but alas, prior engagements made it impossible. Thanks to the hundreds (‘both’) of you that enquired, though. For the record, Misha nailed it, followed by Sami, Craig and, in spite of our hatred of Frankenbands, The Risk did a sterling job. The judges will have a tough time deciding who to cut – how can they limit it to one act each when so many were shite? Ah well. Here’s the Single Reviews...

On the subject of The X Factor, deserving winner and legitimate talent he may be, but debut single Run For Your Life is giving 2010 champ Matt Cardle the limpest, lamest start possible. Granted, it’s not quite Sacred Trust, and the colossal chorus does claw back some points, but the feeble verses, spate of clichés and a video where he looks like he wants to kill himself don’t amount to a very effective launchpad. Looks like The X Factor’s track record of bollocksing up the careers of their male winners remains intact.

Doing his bestest impression of Justin Timberlake is one-time Nu-Hansoner and sexless Disney mascot Joe Jonas. However, the squeaky siblings and bushy JoFro have been ditched in favour of a slick, overpolished R’n’B backdrop and expensive stylist. In fact, everything about Just In Love screams I AM MANHOOD. It’s certainly progression from The Jonas Brothers, but the lazy melody and clichéd beats mean he’ll have to work a bit harder to truly turn heads as a soloist.

Scoring a Single of the Week all of two seconds into their career are Stoke-on-Trent indie advocates All The Young. Whether they’ll succeed in a sea of braindead dance-pop is unlikely, but Quiet Night In champions the kind of instantaneous rock the charts are sorely bereft of. It may not be forging a whole new genre, and frontman Ryan Dooley has more than a touch of the Guy Garveys, but the vigour, bounce and musicality make All The Young a welcome prospect round thisaway.

And finally, the combination of Gym Class Heroes and Adam Levine makes for a frightening prospect – two artists who each produce music it’s really not ok to like, but which more often than not prompts more than a foot-tap. Thankfully, Stereo Hearts doesn’t boast the same kind of guilty witchcraft found in the likes of Millionaire or Moves Like Jagger. The post-chorus hook with its stop-start strings deserves some kudos, but otherwise, it’s all lumpy metaphors and bland rapping. Nothing to see here, folks. As you were.

Honking Box Preview: The X Factor

2011-10-02T20:55:00.002+01:00

So the Judges Houses stage is over, and all the conventions are in place: ropey stock footage covertly promoting airlines; a million utterances of 'this means everything'; waterfalls of snot; and helpers who aren't so much helpful as headline-generating. So what are we left with? Well, while the new judging line-up has given the show a much-needed shake-up, the rather embarrassing crop of finalists has swung the show's credibility right back the other way. There are a few gems, it must be said, but for the most part, you'll be crying out for the return of Wagner...

The Groups, mentored by Tulisa
The poor ol’ groups get a fair bit of stick about being perennially awful, but in fairness to them, they’re very rarely actual groups, mostly resentful soloists thrown together by hapless producers. This year is no exception, with Tulisa presiding over the back-and-forth Sugababes-style personnel nightmare. No doubt she’ll try to apply some sort of ‘urban’ ‘edge’ to each of them, but it’ll take more than a clumsy rap to paper over this shower of uselessness:

The Risk
What’s their deal, then? You know the story: boy meets producer, producer thinks boy is good but not ‘Eoghan Quigg good’ or ‘Lloyd Daniels good’ so chucks him in a group with some other boys deemed semi-rubbish. A last-minute rejig also saw the talented one from The Keys plucked from his bandmates and shoehorned in here. Mmmm, organic.
Pigeonhole: The niche carved out by/for Futureproof, way back in the Godawful series four.
Most likely to sing: Hoobastank’s The Reason hasn’t been massacred on The X Factor yet. Maybe The Risk are the ones to butcher it?
Probable position: 10th. A cut-and-shut job can only last so long before imploding.

Two Shoes
What’s their deal, then? Gobby orange duo, presumably well-spoken and well-educated, but sprayed and bleached and lobotomised into a first-class ticket aboard the deplorable The Only Way Is Essex bandwagon. Not bad singers, but annoying as hell. Fun fact! One of them’s preggers.
Pigeonhole: ‘Zany’ duo with the Marmite factor – like Jedward, except they can sing. And they’re not odious, talent-absent fuckwits.
Most likely to sing: A mash-up of When I Grow Up by the Alleycat Trolls, and Wham’s Club Tropicana.
Probable position: 8th. They’ll be in the sing-off with Kitty, who’d survive a nuclear explosion.

Rhythmix
What’s their deal, then? Girl group compiled from two other girl groups compiled from failed soloists. Even the Human Centipede was put together more gracefully than this lot. Also, one looks like her skull is sideways on its axis, making her face wider than it is long.
Pigeonhole: The dreadful Belle Amie. The even more dreadful Hope. This doesn’t bode well.
Most likely to sing: We R Who We R by Ke$ha. Badly.
Probable position: Girl group. 16th. Inevitable.

Nu Vibe
What’s their deal, then? And yet ANOTHER patchwork group completes Tulisa’s line-up. This one features that scally kid that can’t hold a note, the one that looks like the Cowardly Lion, and some others no-one would miss if they suddenly vanished. *slow clap*
Pigeonhole: These ones are clearly for the teenyboppers, a la One Direction.
Most likely to sing: They’re YOUNG ‘n’ URBAN! Lookit, a whole three members are non-white! Inevitably, something by Taio Cruz. Cue Louis: you’re like a little Jackson 5!
Probable position: 15th. One Direction and JLS have this market covered, thanks.

The Over 25s, mentored by Louis Walsh
Ah, good ol’ Louis. Does he actually know he’s there as the comedy judge, or does he think we actually take him seriously? When he’s not lumbered with the ham-fisted groups, he’s gifted the Overs category, which is less and less about mature, experienced vocalists worthy of a second chance, and more a parade of tone-deaf, mentally ill, watch-through-your-fingers monstrosities. Observe:

Kitty Brucknell
What’s her deal, then? Dramatic, fame-hungry, serial-reality-show-courting, loathsome caricature of humankind. Awful voice to boot, with every note sounding as though it’s being expunged mid-vomit. Looks and talks like a post-apocalyptic hooker from a Joss Whedon pilot. Needs a good slap.
Pigeonhole: Katie Weasel squared.
Most likely to sing: An electro-squelch take on Cabaret.
Probable position: 5th. The very second it’s out of the judges’ hands, this trainwreck is out of there.

Johnny Robinson
What’s his deal, then? Mincey, high-pitched, unemployed article of irrelevance, Johnny takes the baton from Goldie as this year’s REALLY FUNNY contestant. A sort of undernourished John Inman for the digital age, except without any of the charisma, wit or likeability.
Pigeonhole: He’s old, in X Factor terms at least, and he’s shit. Thus: Chico.
Most likely to sing: The most toe-curlingly atrocious Vogue you’ve ever witnessed.
Probable position: 14th. A joke that’ll get very old very quick.

Jonjo Kerr
What’s his deal, then? A family man who’s served in Afghanistan, making him an actual deity as far as The Sun is concerned. Expect them to give away free England flags with Jonjo’s face on them (collect tokens and redeem at your nearest Sports Direct).
Pigeonhole: We’ve not had an ACTUAL HERO reach the live finals before. However, we have had average singers with a backstory – remember Verity Keays, or Kerry McGregor? No?
Most likely to sing: Hero by Enrique Iglesias. Voting line meltdown.
Probable position: 6th, losing out to Kitty, followed by a wave of UK-wide riots in protest.

Sami Brookes
What’s her deal, then? Bellowing barmaid who Louis will struggle to introduce without saying “Big voice, big personality”. A last-minute replacement for Goldie, Sami’s got some impressive pipes on her, though no doubt the Sunday papers will shorten her stint with tales of ‘ZOMG she iz a reel-life LEZBEAN!’
Pigeonhole: The plus-size bellowing Over, a la Brenda, Beverley, Niki, Tesco Mary.
Most likely to sing: Can’t Fight The Moonlight by LeAnn Rimes. About as contemporary as Louis gets.
Probable position: 7th. A wonky week will see her in the bottom two with Kitty. Guess who stays?

The Boys, mentored by Gary Barlow
Last year saw a spike in the normally-dreary Boys category, courtesy of Dannii Minogue at the helm, and Paije, Nicolo and eventual winner Matt leading the charge. This year, however, is business as usual, with four largely bland entries – and yet, oddly, it appeared to be the most sought-after category as far as the judges were concerned. Winning out was Gary Barlow, who’ll no doubt have them sat at pianos, shunning choreography and slowly podging up.

Frankie Cocozza
What’s his deal, then? Cocky, intensely dislikeable, reedy-voiced brat who’s HAD SOME SEX WITH SOME GIRLS. As far as USPs go, it’s a pretty weak one. Mind you, looking at his contemporaries in the boys category, the “with girls” part might actually be exclusive to Frankie. Also: cunt.
Pigeonhole: On the surface, he’s the Olly Murs lad-about-town character. But while Kitty might be the obvious choice for filling Katie Weasel’s rhinestoned platforms, Frankie also ticks the contrived box with ease.
Most likely to sing: The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars. Cos our Frankie’s a REGULAR GUY, innit?!
Probable position: 11th. They’ll want to keep him in longer, but will sacrifice him to keep Kitty.

Craig Colton
What’s his deal, then? Likeable Scouse chubster with a towering vocal. It seems, thus far, the producers have done all they can to make him into some sort of He-Adele, but frankly, one of her is more than enough.
Pigeonhole: Fun, chunky and in possession of a more-than-respectable voice, he’ll be staying in the exclusive Paije Richardson Suite.
Most likely to sing: Someone Like You. Duhh.
Probable position: That voice combined with the Merseyside vote will help him come at least 2nd.

Marcus Collins
What’s his deal, then? High-camp former Eton Road member (post-live shows, we must add), Marcus has turned his back on the lucrative world of performing to precisely no-one to go it alone. Impressive voice, but perhaps a tad too, shall we say, Glee for the X Factor audience. Yes, Glee, that'll do. That’s the way to express what we mean without it being libellous.
Pigeonhole: Camp Crooner, like Rikki Loney, without the devil-brows. Or Rapey Aiden, without the murderous tendencies.
Most likely to sing: Something by Mika. *shudder*
Probable position: 12th. He’ll be chopped in favour of Brucknell too.

James Michael
What’s his deal, then? Permanently-hatted singer and guitarist who’s picked up very little in the way of screentime. Won’t go in his favour, but then, the fact his musical style lends itself more to Tube stations or university halls of residence will be an even bigger hindrance.
Pigeonhole: Serious musician, a la Matt Cardle. He’s probably been to Camden and everything!
Most likely to sing: Cannonball by Damien Rice. Already given an airing this series by that useless Welsh maths teacher that got sent packing, and we all know how much this show likes to recycle.
Probable position: 13th at a push. He’ll also be cut when up against Kitty.

The Girls, mentored by Kelly Rowland
Easily the best judge this year – in terms of professionalism, creativity, and all-round entertainment – it’s therefore justified that Kelly is awarded the best category. It’s unclear which of the girls in particular they’re pimping for the win, but it’s safe to assume they’ll be making up a hefty portion of the Top 5. It must be noted that it’s monumentally disappointing to have not had a big dramatic Return of the Gamu, but hey.

Amelia Lily
What’s her deal, then? Some sort of Christina Aguilera/Margi Clarke hybrid, who’s apparently only 16. Hmmm. That said, her voice is the selling point, gale-force chops that should see her through the live shows with ease.
Pigeonhole: Pretty. Can sing. It’s a big pigeonhole.
Most likely to sing: The Voice Within by Slaguilera, though hopefully she’ll do a better job than the woman herself when slaughtering Beautiful in last year’s final.
Probable position: Top 3, perhaps even winner, assuming Kelly gets it right.

Sophie Habibis
What’s her deal, then? Another one who’s had sod-all in the way of screentime, but what little we’ve seen has been of a high quality. A mighty vocal could give her a fair run, even if most of the viewing audience will think she’s a failed auditionee who snuck in the side entrance.
Pigeonhole: The annual quite good, mildly quirky female; the role Stacey Solomon or Ruth Lorenzo filled better. Most likely to sing: Umbrella. It’s been a while since they wheeled that one out.
Probable position: 9th – she'll poodle along nicely until she faces Kitty in the sing-off.

Janet Devlin
What’s her deal, then? Wispy, timid Northern Irish songbird guaranteed to do well on the back of the local vote. And while she’s a sweet wee thing, she does sound rather like Julie Walters doing the ancient waitress character.
Pigeonhole: Diana Vickers 2.0 (claw TBC).
Most likely to sing: She’ll rinse the entire Ellie Goulding back catalogue, then move on to Nothing Compares 2 U for the moneyshot.
Probable position: Top 3 with Craig and Amelia, but her sheep-like vocal will have gotten pretty tiresome by then.

Misha Bryan
What’s her deal, then? Mancunian purveyor of big vocals and atrocious Mr Whippy weaves. Did a sterling job of Survivor by Destiny’s Child at Boot Camp, and probably has the most artistry out of all the girls. But we know how far a girl with her own brain gets on these shows, eh?
Pigeonhole: She sings! She raps! She’s a bit Graziella out of Miss Frank, before they Miss Franked her! But also, a bit Cher Lloyd. *takes step back*
Most likely to sing: Something by Beyoncé. But she’ll MAKE IT HER OWN.
Probable position: 4th. She deserves 1st, but since when have X Factor viewers embraced the new?

Tune in next week for the first live show with another SO-CALLED! BIG! TWIST! We won’t be liveblogging it, unfortunately – partly due to a prior social engagement, and partly due to the fact it’s two and a half hours long, and St John’s Ambulance would need to be on standby. Those of you who’ll be watching live without the aid of a fast-forward option? Good luck...

Nicola Roberts: Cinderella's Eyes (Polydor)

2011-09-26T11:00:00.001+01:00

The ongoing Girls Aloud hiatus hasn’t produced much of worth from its individual parts: a West-End stint; some questionable plastic surgery; some Clubcard points; and enough tabloid speculation to outdo the Beckhams. So as Nicola Roberts releases her debut solo album Cinderella’s Eyes, could it finally provide something of worth from a largely pointless interval?

Media-savvy circles have crowned Roberts the poster girl for postmodern irony, hailing her no-nonsense, plain-talking, working-class kookiness and lack of convention as the greatest thing to happen to popular culture in aeons. But to the iTunes-bothering layman, she’s still very much the quiet ginger one at the back.

That’s why opening track and lead single Beat of My Drum needed to be huge and noisy and make a statement. And it did, even if only about four people actually heard it. But it’s not the best indication of Cinderella’s Eyes as a whole. Emotive and understated and tenderly electronic, but simultaneously fresh and forward-thinking, it’s a novel window into an artist we actually knew very little about.

Girls Aloud’s catalogue was, for the most part, swamped by coquettish allegories, Xenomania’s give-away-the-farm production and Nadine Coyle’s tiresome wailing, so it’s a relief to discover something very different here. Glorious melodies, quirky concepts and a substantial dose of candour are the key ingredients of Cinderella’s Eyes, and they come together rather nicely.

Roberts is not afraid to play with intonation, as evidenced on Lucky Day’s lavish ad-libs or the haunting purity of Sticks + Stones, although it doesn’t always work – the shrill chorus of the title track aims for Kate Bush, but makes for genuinely uncomfortable listening. Meanwhile, the metaphor-free Scouse rap of Take a Bite is equal parts cringe-inducing and commendable.

With the likes of Dragonette, Metronomy and Diplo behind the mixing desk, the beats are naturally inventive, although occasionally veer too close to hipsterdom – for instance, the dolphin squeaks that initiate Fish Out of Water. But for such a stellar, buzz-creating line-up of production personnel, there’s little reliance on the acclaim attached to the backing tracks – Roberts is finally the star of the show, and it suits her well.

Girls Aloud were given the best possible start via the decade-defining Sound of the Underground. It was bold, it was distinctive, and it was of a particularly high quality. In the same vein, Cinderella’s Eyes sets Nicola Roberts up as a formidable solo artist, with a considerable talent and some exceptional ideas. Alas, without the publicity machine on her side, it’s unlikely to win fans outside of the knowing industry figures and frothing forums, but for those who’ll experience Cinderella’s Eyes, it’s got the potential to be a humble classic.

Single Reviews 25/09/11

2011-09-23T16:15:00.000+01:00

For about a tenth of a second, we considered addressing the split of REM in this weekly blurb o’ nothing prior to the Single Reviews. But we’ll leave that to the inevitable commemorative issue of Q, though how you’d tell a special REM issue apart from any other issue of Q is anyone’s guess. But we digress. Read on for a selection of British rock, some interchangeable girlband Autons, and a Seb Coe-approved musical endorsement of what’s essentially a fancy gas lighter.

You Me At Six herald their new album Sinners Never Sleep with the marching riffs and snarling vocals of Loverboy. It’s an interesting angle, and an effective one at that, letting the plodding, mesmerising hook do most of the work before the huge rock ideals are unveiled with force when the chorus comes along. And with even the most mainstream of rock acts finding it a struggle to promote in this fickle world of Rihanna, Rihanna and more Rihanna, it’s a nice quirk that’ll get them noticed without even coming close to diluting themselves.

We’ve already addressed the peculiar moniker of Noel Gallagher’s High-Flying Birds on these pages. And with a pretentious name comes an equally pretentious single title in the form of AKA...What A Life! It’s a level of extraneous punctuation not seen since Britney Spears’ early work, but thankfully the song more than excuses such anti-Truss behaviour. An inventive, poised and charismatic number, and surprisingly contemporary for a man usually shackled to 1996, it’s precisely the step forwards from Oasis he needs, and an easily-awarded Single of the Week.

With the Olympics less than a year away, the cash-ins and spin-offs are already well underway, once such example the Official Olympic Torch Song from Dionne Bromfield and Tinchy Stryder. A song for the TORCH. At this rate, should we expect an Aquatics Centre Anthem? A dubstep track from Wenlock and Mandeville? Still, at least Spinnin’ For 2012 has its merits – a bouncy, poppy offering much more suited to Bromfield than the considerably more mature soul she’s been peddling up until now.

And finally, we were planning on really laying into Freedom, the BIG! COMEBACK! single from the dregs of the Sugababes. But clearly, they’ve realised themselves what an unimaginative, uninspiring, unequivocal pile of horse-shit Freedom is, cancelling its release and giving it away for free instead. For a song that’s supposed to be a noisy, heartening call-to-arms, it’s more likely to induce diarrhoea than any kind of empowerment. Look girls, the Sugababes brand has been sullied enough, and we know it’s beyond repair. But that doesn’t mean we don’t want you to quit. Take the hint.

Honking Box Review: X Factor USA

2011-09-23T09:00:00.001+01:00

Regular readers will know that we’ve had a thing or two to say about The X Factor in the past – rants, round-ups, liveblogs, and posts so venomous and/or libellous we’ve deleted them in fear of Syco’s legal muscle kicking the front door in.

So we couldn’t let the big-money launch of the American version go without a dose of scrutiny, now could we? Admittedly, it didn’t come easy to do so – watching The X Factor recently has felt like such an effort, and that hasn’t provided a huge dose of enthusiasm as the long-touted Fox revision finally hit screens this week.

And while the new British judging line-up has given the show a kick up the arse, the transparency of show has become laughable. The clumsiest re-edits to steer the narrative how the producers want, the rejigging of acts and categories for no apparent reason, and the visible despair of Dermot O’Leary as he longs for the days of waxing indie with Bobby Gillespie on Re:Covered.

So it’s with some surprise that the American version doesn’t fall prey to the same tired standards – or if it does, it at least covers them up a whole lot better than the UK version. Furthermore, it was a relief to see the audition trail handled city by city, in comparison to the “We’re in BIRMINGHAM! No, LONDON! Hang on, LIVERPOOL! No, it was BIRMINGHAM all along!” that saturates each British episode.

One highlight – in terms of talent at least – came in the form of Chris, a former drug addict whose audition was genuinely impressive. But, rather disgustingly, Simon Cowell offered Chris a place at Boot Camp on the promise that he agrees to stay clean. Never mind that he’s already been to rehab, is doing exceptionally well and has a family to think about – he’ll lay off the crack because he wants to be turned into a watered-down Bruno Mars and sent home by Week 2.

The focus as far as ITV2 viewers were concerned was mainly on Cheryl Cole, and her unceremonious axing from the show. Surprisingly, she came across incredibly well – she may not be missed on the UK version, but perhaps the time out of the spotlight (in relative terms, at least) has been of benefit. She was warm, funny, friendly, understandable and confident – not the timid lamb Cowell told us she had become – and evoked the likeable, excited Cheryl of Series 5 rather than the jaded, entitled brat of Series 7.

Her ruthless, opportunistic successor Nicole Scherzinger, apart from being the devil’s own concubine, was actually pretty good value deputising for Cheryl and Dannii on the UK version last year. However, she’s not shown a whole lot in the way of promise Stateside – bland, flat and every inch the dead-eyed slutbag we got to know as Führer of the Alleycat Trolls.

Elsewhere, LA Reid and Paula Abdul were adequate in their roles, the former yet to reveal his in-show quirk, while the latter has evidently had hers placated by prescription medicine. And the auditionees ticked all the necessary boxes – cutesy kiddies, delusional bellowing, it’s-my-last-chance 40-something belters, sassy divas, over-rehearsed boybands, and of course, mentally unstable pensioners pushed onto the stage with the sole purpose of ridicule.

It was all passable stuff, generally entertaining and with a decent display of talent, certainly far greater than the train wreck we’ve seen over here these past few weeks. The problem seems to be an arrogant assumption that America will take to the whole X Factor machine the way the UK did. What Simon Cowell seems to have mysteriously forgotten is that The X Factor had fairly humble beginnings on these shores – discreet audition rooms instead of packed arenas; industry-based judges as opposed to shiny celebrities; comparatively modest viewing figures; little in the way of press coverage; relatively low-key live shows, with a sensibly-sized stage and a mere 9 finalists; Kate Thornton. Kate. Thornton.

It’s taken several years for the show to morph into the towering entertainment behemoth we know it as today. But the US version is starting right at the top, foolishly thinking that American viewers will be as susceptible to the media-wide propaganda that fills the tabloids here in Blighty. And while E! or the National Enquirer or The Ricki Lake Show would suggest otherwise, the Yanks don’t buy into that mindset quite as easily. If The X Factor wants to succeed, it’s going to have to absolutely nail every second of its content, because it cannot rely on the hype. And if that doesn’t work, particularly after the gargantuan publicity it’s created for itself, then it’s got a very, very long way to fall, very, very publicly.

Single Reviews 18/09/11

2011-09-15T14:00:00.001+01:00

Hey, you! In the mood to see a slightly-bloodshot critical eye cast over some pop music of varying standards? Then behold the Single Reviews! On the proverbial jukebox today, the best/worst member of a certain girlband; a UK rapper who’s equal parts hilarious/piteous; the most overhyped/hypeworthy band on the planet; and... well, one more artist who doesn’t really capture any kind of extremes. But hey.

There was once a time when older-skewing, slightly-introverted, slightly-safe, yet rather talented musicians were politely referred to as “albums artists”. The term, however, is now more realistically “Artists Whose Catalogues Lend Themselves to X Factor Boot Camp Butcherings” – doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, but summarises James Morrison nicely, particularly new release I Won’t Let You Go. Immediate, intense and hugely sellable, it’s every inch a James Morrison song. What else can be said?

Maintaining her flawless record of achieving a Single of the Week with every track she releases, Nicola Roberts scoops it once again. Granted, it’s only her second single, but let's not take such a towering achievement away from her, eh? Lucky Day is infectious, unpretentious, captivating and gorgeously melancholic, her swooning vocals nicely matching Dragonette’s elegantly effervescent production. It’s a shame the polarising Beat of My Drum scared off so many people, as Lucky Day cements Roberts as a talent of an almost surprisingly high calibre.

For someone who’s spent most of their career crowing about their roots, it hasn’t taken Dappy long to shake off his Camden credentials and adopt a done-to-death Stateside sound. Content-wise, the aim of No Regrets is clearly to dole out a hefty dose of maturity, and it does achieve that, but let’s be honest – the only appeal Dappy holds to most of the public is the probability of him putting his foot in it during another Never Mind The Buzzcocks appearance.

And we wrap proceedings up with a new offering from Coldplay, ahead of next month’s Mylo Xyloto album. Paradise sees astral organs make way for a Ryan Tedder-style handclap-beat, before the fundamental Coldplayness overwhelms proceedings. Admittedly, there’s a more twiddled, synthy sound present, but the falsetto ad-libs and swelling chorus make it yet another potential set-closer for the inevitable sell-out stadium tour.

Ed Sheeran: + (Atlantic)

2011-09-12T11:30:00.002+01:00

Much has been made of Norfolk singer-songwriter-sort-of-rapper Ed Sheeran’s rise to the top, which saw him sofa-surfing as he gigged his way into the public consciousness the old-fashioned way. No X Factor audition, no Usher/Bieber-style celebrity endorsements, no online gimmicks a la Sandi fucking Thom. But anyone who’s caught the Ed Sheeran live experience won’t be surprised that he’s made it, outlet of genius that he is.

So, with a wealth of live experience a musician twice his age probably couldn’t match, and a string of quietly successful EPs, the build up to debut album + has been just short of immense. The airplay behemoth of The A-Team needs no introduction, though whether it was the most accurate introduction to Sheeran himself is questionable. The gentle, lilting twang does crop up throughout +, but accompanied by hip-hop beats, cheeky lyrics and stuttered, 100-mile-a-minute vocals.

On paper, it’s daring stuff. A chubby-cheeked, ginger-haired, white kid armed with an acoustic guitar forging his own extraordinary adaptation of rap probably shouldn’t work. So it’s pretty impressive that he not only pulls it off, but that it doesn’t feel in the least bit unnatural. Sheeran owns every single note with a firm, commendable confidence, and from the outset it’s difficult to imagine anyone else even attempting something similar.

Tonally, the whole spectrum is covered, from the trippy, morose Kiss Me to the contented sway of Grade 8, essentially operating as both an amalgamation of and a follow-on from his EPs. It’s therefore hard not to compare + to his more low-key releases – You Need Me, I Don’t Need You may have functioned better in its initial acoustic guise, but actually brings some punch within the sphere of the album. And at the very least, the tracklist makes for an effective way to cap the journey to full long-player.

Lyrically, + might come across as occasionally gawky and literal, but it actually benefits from this. It feels disarmingly honest, and makes for a refreshing picture of late-teen life, particularly when the general depiction is some sort of Skinsesque, high-gloss fantasy, relevant to precisely no-one.

While he’s been adopted as some sort of voice of the BlackBerry Messenger generation, + proves that Sheeran is in possession of a talent whose reach goes far beyond that. And although perhaps there’s a slight worthiness in the aforementioned “I did it the traditional route!” schtick that comes attached with every mention of his name, it’s hard to imagine Ed Sheeran couldn’t have succeeded, whichever route he took.

Single Reviews 04/09/11

2011-09-01T17:00:00.000+01:00

Ah, September. The slippery slope to Christmas begins. Although more recently, The X Factor has sort of functioned as a run-up to Christmas, hasn’t it? Kind of like an 18-week advent calendar, except with Adele songs and clumsy editing in place of chocolate. To ward off thoughts of general Yuletide awfulness, we’re focusing on this week, with a naff Back-to-School selection of Single Reviews...

We begin things with Leona Lewis, and we promise to do our very best to review the song rather than make snarky references to her somewhat torporous personality. MUST RESIST. Collide is the result of a collaboration (translation: theft and ensuing payoff) with DJ Avicii, whose candyfloss trance beats match Lewis’ vocals rather nicely. Particular mention must go to the song’s mesmerizing bridge, which sadly makes way for a big gushy holler of a chorus, but overall it’s passable enough.

While worldwide press, radio and TV burble romantically about their every riff, we’ve always held a more take-or-leave-‘em approach to Foo Fighters. For instance: Breakout, Low, Learn To Fly = ace. Best of You, Times Like These, The Pretender = shut up and go away. However, in Arlandria, they’ve crafted something that falls safely into the former category. A dark, alluring whisper tempts you in, while the colossal, brilliantly belligerent chorus goes for the full KO. A well-played and well-deserved Single of the Week.

The Saturdays are a crafty bunch. We’d always thought they were decent enough, but in hindsight, the only reason we’ve ever given them the time of day was off the back of one great single (Up). It’s taken us eleven singles into their career for us to finally stop and realise that The Saturdays are actually really rather shit. All Fired Up proves the point – while not as inane and laughable as Notorious, it’s meaningless, personality-deficient Clubland filler that’s just about one step up from the Splendabots.

And finally, the neon guitar-pop of Think About It marks a welcome comeback from Melanie C, her first new material this side of the Spice Girls reunion. Clearly it’s kickstarted her inner popstar, thumping rhythms punctuated with engaging bursts of strummage. Vocally, it’s pure Melanie C – namely, if you love her, it’s perfection; if you don’t, it’s a million nails on a million chalkboards. And for those in the pro camp, it sets up her fifth album as a particularly intriguing prospect.

Friends: Farewell and/or Good Riddance?

2011-08-31T13:00:00.003+01:00

Wouldn’t it be intriguing to see some statistics on how many times each episode of Friends has aired on Channel 4? Well, don’t get too excited – after some frantic Googling, Asking and Wikipedia-ing, it appears such numbers are not in the public domain. But it’s safe to say they go well into triple figures, taking into account airings on Channel 4, E4 and their respective plus ones, since as far back as 1994. Hell, we wouldn't be surprised if it was knocking on quadruple figures.

Alas, those numbers – whatever they may be – will remain at their current total. Back in February, Channel 4 announced they weren’t renewing the rights to Friends repeats, and that moment has now arrived. As of last week, Channel 4 screened its last Friends, while the E4 showings come to an end this Sunday.

While its initial screening was warm, emotional and conclusive, the final episode doesn’t carry much clout these days. The fade-out on the peephole in Monica’s empty apartment doesn’t invoke anything resembling sorrow, because you know that after the break, a bouffant bride will thunder into Central Perk a decade earlier, and kickstart the whole timeloop once again.

But that’s not the case this time around. Once the Warner Bros end board vanishes on Sunday, that’s it. The Bing family really have moved to that house in Westchester; both Ross and Rachel, and Phoebe and Mike really have dissolved into their own private worlds of domesticity; and Joey... well, legend has it he moved to LA to pursue his acting career, but the rumoured footage of this has been seen by just a hallowed few.

As foreseeable and as familiar as Friends is when you’ve seen each episode two dozen times, it made for the perfect hangover/I’m-bored/I-have-writer’s-block/dinner-is-taking-too-long/it’s-too-cold-to-leave-the-house TV. Knowing that, at almost any point during the day, you can flick around and find that welcoming informality, it was kind of comforting. And somehow, it was still entertaining. The Barbados episodes, or Jennifer Aniston trying not to laugh when Ross is playing the bagpipes, or the all-too-rare appearances of Frank and Alice never fail to raise a cackle. And there will never come a time when the adventures centered around Phoebe’s 3D painting Gladys are anything other than uproariously funny.

But, when you look at it objectively, it’s good that Channel 4 are dropping Friends. Brilliant, in fact. While the convenience of having Friends on tap will be missed, the series has fallen prey to some of the worst editing in the history of British broadcasting. Entire jokes mercilessly ripped away, punchlines hacked from the dialogue, and mid-sentence words replaced with an eight-frame burst of audience laughter made Friends not so much convenient viewing as downright fucking infuriating viewing.

Sure, there were compliance issues that had to be dealt with. But ending a scene on the plaintive line “Didn’t you ever read Lord of the Rings in high school?” followed by a bellow of laughter from the studio audience is just plain lazy. The cut line featured the word ‘sex’. WHO WILL SAVE US FROM SUCH FILTH??!?! Thank God for Channel 4 and their Christian reversioning team, ready to tackle the sinful digi with round-ended safety scissors and a roll of sticky tape, and an approximate timecode of the offending term.

But aside from waving goodbye to the butchering of many a classic line, the pros of the show’s departure keep coming thick and fast. Hopefully the screentime and budget allocated to the Channel 4 Friend-Spend will be spent on original, entertaining (and with any luck, British) programming; and of course, we’ll be spared the dreadful spate of sponsorship bumpers that have bookended Friends during its UK run.

All that said, while the show may be waving goodbye to Channel 4, it’s certainly not disappearing altogether. Those needing their Friends fix will already be aware that there’s DVD boxsets going for all of two quid each; episodes are regularly available on Virgin Media On Demand; and Comedy Central will begin airing the whole lot all over again this Autumn. With any luck, they’ll be leaving the material the way it was intended, and not blindly taking a blunt scalpel to the scripts. As for Channel 4, thank you for the chuckles. Now let’s see how you fill that gap. (N.B. Buying the rights to air re-runs of Joey is cheating.)

Single Reviews 28/08/11

2011-08-26T15:00:00.000+01:00

Welcome to the Single Reviews, where this week we’ve got the proverbial streamers and party poppers out in celebration of Mutya Buena’s partial triumph over the ghastly Splendabots. Granted, she’s not yet in the position to ban them from releasing their bilge under the good name of the Sugababes, but surely world domination isn’t far off. Other things we’d quite like Mutya to take control of: Louis Walsh’s job on The X Factor; music commissioning at the BBC; the Coalition; the so-called disaffected youth; and the British weather.

First under scrutiny is Barbadian band – yes, a proper band wot have instruments, NME! – Cover Drive, who unveil themselves to the good folk of Britain with debut single Lick Ya Down. Where Rihanna’s occasional foray back to her roots generally amounts to flashing her cameltoe in some battyriders whilst miming to some heinous cod-reggae, Lick Ya Down has a feeling of authenticity, whilst successfully looping in an inviting pop melody and a forceful rock energy to the mix. As new bands go, they’re an interesting prospect.

Single of the Week goes to a man who, not content with making one of the best songs of 2010, is looking to match the feat this year with Cry Baby. Granted, it’s been knocking around the ol’ Creative Zen for a good while now, but Cee-Lo Green bears a unique aptitude for an immediate, captivating and uplifting anthem, with Cry Baby no exception. Brass-heavy with a Sixties twist, and delightfully heartless in tone, if this isn’t butchered for Big Band Week on this year’s X Factor, it’ll be a crying shame. Or a blessed relief.

Ed Sheeran’s initial promise as potentially the most exciting artist this decade has waned slightly with his reworking of You Need Me I Don’t Need You, turned from an acoustic, attitude-packed, rapalong strumfest into a frenetic, cocky anti-climax, garnished with broken rhythms and peculiar beatboxing. But the wit, the charm and the capability exclusive to Sheeran are still very much present, and even if he has morphed into some sort of Official Bebo Mascot, this is still testament to an almighty talent.

And finally, a woman whose singles pattern thus far has been shaky – namely a ratio of two good to one dreadful – balances things out with another stinker. It’s fair that Jessie J felt the need to address the things she addresses on Who’s Laughing Now, but it’s executed with an intoxicating jumble of clumsily literal lyrics, iffy rapping, irritating runs and, scarily, what appears to be an overt Blazin’ Squad influence.

The Sloppy Dog Liveblog: Celebrity Big Brother 2011

2011-08-18T20:53:00.030+01:00

Well, who'd have thunk we'd be liveblogging the start of a brand new series of Celebrity Big Brother? Yes, after its 'final' series on Channel 4 last summer, here it is, back one channel up the spectrum with a shiny new house, a shiny-faced new host, and a big ol' tabloid monster behind the scenes weaving his publicity-generating sorcery. Hit refresh for updates as we find out who's going in...