The Sloppy Dog's Best of 2006: Albums

Welcome to the first of our end-of-year countdowns, in which we celebrate the best and condemn the worst that the last twelve has brought us. Beginning proceedings with a positive note, behold The Sloppy Dog's ten greatest albums...

10. The Automatic - Not Accepted Anywhere
Kicking off our ten is Not Accepted Anywhere, the debut album from The Automatic, a band with larger energy reserves than an entire train of camels. Pop sensibilities peep out through dynamic licks, themselves in turn making way for killer choruses – amalgamated, the greatest boisterous racket of 2006.

9. Cerys Matthews - Never Said Goodbye
A softly uplifting collection of earnest folk lullabies, with just a hint of ballsy rasp. In honesty, we miss the barking Welsh geezerbird that boozily fronted the outstanding Catatonia, but Never Said Goodbye is the ultimate verification that she’s sobered up, grown up and loved up. And it looks bloody great on her.

8. The Zutons - Tired Of Hanging Around
Following on from a patchy debut album, The Zutons had only medium-sized boots to fill this time around. However, they’ve excelled themselves with Tired Of Hanging Around – diverse, memorable, entertaining and unashamedly Scouse. One of the most distinctive bands of the moment (and only partly due to the token sax).

7. The Boy Least Likely To - The Best Party Ever
Without a doubt, the cutest album ever to caress our eardrums. However, scratch beneath the Sanrio confectionary on the surface (and song titles such as Warm Panda Cola), and you realise The Best Party Ever is pleasantly intense, expressive and wholeheartedly charming from start to finish.

6. Pink - I'm Not Dead
After her stinking third album plummeted her to new lows, Pink’s ability to claw her way back up was surely commendable. As smart, as accomplished and as agreeable as M!ssundaztood, the pure unadulterated skill of I’m Not Dead indicates that one Alecia Beth Moore could well be the greatest female artist of our generation.

5. Embrace - This New Day
While useless single choices have tainted this album ever so slightly, This New Day is evidence that Embrace continue to go from strength to strength. Bearing in mind we own the version sans the insipid World Cup fiasco, This New Day is back to back anthemic enchantment.

4. Kelis - Kelis Was Here
Ah, the sporadic Kelis finally comes good and stays good. While she’s previously had far better individual songs than many featuring on Kelis Was Here, it’s her most consistent album to date, defiantly refusing to swerve from the strict space-age refinement she’s skilfully crafted. In a calamitous year for US pop, Kelis is a Godsend.

3. The Fratellis - Costello Music
Like a vial of ohrwurms released into your pillow, this album stays with you long after the stop button is pushed, and it’s not in the least bit unwelcome. A medley of coarse riffs, jangly hoedowns and swaying pub-period finesse, Costello Music is the mark of an album and a band to get very, very excited about.

2. Lostprophets - Liberation Transmission
Narrowly missing out on the album crown, the awesome Liberation Transmission has to settle for silver. Clearly, it’s not to everyone’s taste – emo brats can bellyache all they want about selling out, but Liberation Transmission highlights how a wee bit of commercial awareness can be a remarkable thing. The jagged vivacity hasn’t gone anywhere, it’s purely tied in with mindful melodies, which together, create the paramount record of the Lostprophets’ career thus far.

1. The Feeling - Twelve Stops And Home
And so we reach Number One. In The Feeling, we’ve got a band who’ve torn up the rulebook, turfed it out the window and, for an encore, had a competition to gob on it from the highest point. Twelve Stops And Home is the fruit of that fantastic insurgence, where even the most sombre subject matter is clad in fancy dress, while simultaneously remaining drenched in meaning. Optimistically redressing indie conventions, and quite simply making exceptional music, The Feeling have provided us with the best album of 2006.

And, having gushed like a sycophantic OK! reporter about ten whole albums, we’re in desperate need to release some anger. Rest assured our next End Of Year list will be addressing the worst...

Single Reviews 11/12/06

Premature Yuletide greetings, dear readers! It’ll just be a quick ‘un from us as far as Single Reviews go this week – but fret not, as we’ll also be unveiling our Best and Worst of 2006 lists for your perusal. Sadly, the negative line-up has been compiled before we’ve had a chance to see who wins The X Factor. Either way, it’s a world of bovvered.

Leaping out of the carnival we imagine constantly exists in her head and into seasonal ballad territory, Shakira channels the spirit of Bonnie Tyler with the sweeping, gushing Illegal. Still, anything’s better than another video writhing in questionable brown goo. Next, the omnipresent Lily Allen, whose triumphant 2006 and gobby stance has meant her placing in our ongoing chart of greatness/hatred has gone up and down almost as often as Javine’s knickers. However, Lily finishes the year on a high note with Littlest Things, a tranquil bubble of sincerity that hoists the musician out of the vile chav exoskeleton.

Launching her second solo album and redefining barmy in ways previously unimaginable is Gwen Stefani, with the exasperatingly doolally Wind It Up. The quirky string loop lifted from The Lonely Goatherd we can get on board with. The chanted verses of claptrap we can just about withstand. However, there is no place in the UK charts for ACTUAL YODELLING, least of all from a rock frontwoman from Orange County. Fucking yodelling! How very dare she.

Finally, we round things off with a bloodthirsty duel for Single of the Week – ladies and gents, welcome to the Battle of the Christophers. In the funereal black corner, Chris Cornell produces the most original Bond theme since... well, Madonna’s. But hers was also highly shit, so it doesn’t count. You Know My Name stands aloft as an advanced rock anthem even without the 007 connections. Meanwhile, in the chequered-like-overkill’d-Vans corner, we have Gettin’ Enough?? by the worryingly-underdeveloped Lil’ Chris, which against our better judgment, is an infectious electro-snigger through a world of political incorrectness. And the victor? If only for the acoustic Black Hole Sun on the B-side, Cornell pips it. Hard luck, Lil’.

Emma Bunton - Life In Mono (Universal)

It’s a considerably alien sentiment to feel virtual indifference to the release of a brand new Spice Girl album. Perhaps that elusive “s” missing from the end of “Girl” would trigger the world’s greatest heart attack, as opposed to the reaction of mild acknowledgement we felt on encountering the 12th solo album from the most exciting pop group in the history of recorded music.

Life In Mono, the third solo offering from Emma Bunton, may not induce holy elation for millions upon millions, but it’s certainly worth an examination. And while the music itself may appear far from groundbreaking, it’s undoubtedly a turning point for the lady herself.

Largely, we’re offered an unhurried, mellow compilation of servings of lite lounge, infused with the occasional Ibizan chillout mantra. Although Take Me To Another Town and Mischevious maintain Baby’s cutesy persona, the whole package is draped in enough gentle panache to achieve a level of gloss no other Spice has yet reached.


It’s hugely distanced from the lava lamp cliché of previous album Free Me. However, this isn’t without its downfalls – the vigorous cartoon class of Maybe would provide a shot of energy amidst the leisurely trills. With the exception of a couple of Sixties standards tacked on the end, the pace is measured, hushed, potentially even tedious. But evidently, Emma had no intention to even consider second gear, as this strict design brief provides a steadiness rarely found in contemporary pop.

Fair play to a woman who’s spent the best part of her adult life thus far dressing as a small child a good 20 years her junior. Life In Mono is not just Emma Bunton growing up, it’s Emma Bunton growing up with dignity. After a wired decade of flashbulbs and Buffalos, she’s kicking back, relaxing, and inviting you to do the same. In the most gracious, complimentary way possible, this is an album to send you to sleep. And who doesn’t love a nice kip?

Single Reviews 04/12/06

Good Lord! When did frickin’ December happen? In the coming weeks, we’ll be unveiling the definitive Sloppy Dog highlights and lowlights of 2006. And much as we’d like to send a Chrimbo card to all our lovely readers, unfortunately we don’t have either of your addresses. In the meantime, enjoy this week’s Single Reviews...

Paolo Nutini’s Rewind is a track that pays testament to his gargantuan success, which has probably come about due to the barren lack of wistful young singer/songwriters lately. Let’s hope 2007 brings more of those. He’s certainly an all-round box ticker, straddling the usually-distant fields of credible and marketable, but from where we’re sat, it’s all a bit... meh.

One of the most inventive tracks of the year comes courtesy of Jamelia. While it could be argued Beware of the Dog merely rehashes the concept behind Rihanna’s SOS, the end result is far superior. A meaty, excitable pop marvel with characteristic balls, Beware of the Dog is our Single of the Week. And, as we’re fervent supporters of any form of Javine-baiting, Jamelia herself has gone up in our estimations too. Slag, indeed.

Another track built upon the foundations of a classic is Land of a Thousand Words by the Scissor Sisters, essentially a minor deviation from 2004 single Mary. Still, it’s a light, faraway lilt to remedy the hyperactivity of I Don’t Feel Like Dancin’. In a vaguely similar semi-theft of an existing number, Jay Z’s tired, heffalumping Show Me What You Got sounds uncannily like the original theme tune of Sunset Beach. If only it were an actual sample, we could count on the curse of the Rosario jewels or a handy tidal wave to erase the monotonous troll from the airwaves once and for all.

In presenting I Can’t Come Down to the world, Embrace have somehow managed the near-impossible feat of releasing the four weakest tracks from This New Day. Either someone in the record company is attempting some form of assassination-by-chart-positions, or the band haven’t even heard their own bloody album. Still, feeble by Embrace standards is grand by anyone else’s, thus we can’t wag the finger of disapproval too hard.

Honking Box Preview: Michelle & Andy's Big Day

Celebrity weddings are always worth a through-the-fingers glance, eh? From Jordan’s preposterous pink atrocity of a dress, to David and Liza engulfing each other’s skulls, the British public thrives on the crassness of all-star matrimonials and their endearingly OTT lunacy.

So imagine our delight to learn that ITV2 have captured one of these examples of uber-folly in Michelle & Andy’s Big Day. As the name on the tin suggests, the show records the nuptials of serial career malfunctionee and resultantly the world’s greatest sport, Andy Scott-Lee, and the adorable Michelle Heaton of Liberty X, whose eminent label as one of our favourite Geordies has caused some unrest amongst certain friends in the North East (though let the record show that Spuggie will always hold a place in our hearts).

While we’re in no doubt that the key pleasure of Totally Scott-Lee was the nefarious hilarity known as Roseann McBride, a significant number of belly laughs came courtesy of Lisa herself, and her vengeful odium towards Michelle. Quite why the High Priestess of the Car Crash has such a burning hate for a genuine sweetheart is bewildering, but Michelle’s ability to remain entirely unbothered only upped the laughs – nothing can rival loathing like a mere shoulder shrug. For this reason, we’re secretly hoping for a mid-service explosion of bile from Lisa, a la the Tragedy video.

In seriousness, The Sloppy Dog wishes the happy couple all the best, but should things go the way of Jen & Brad / Harvey & Alesha / Nick & Jessica / Buffy & Angel / Tom & Katie, at least we can revel in the merriment captured here long after the divorce.

But, y’know, all the best. Seriously.

Single Reviews 27/11/06

It's almost as if Christmas has come early here at The Sloppy Dog. This week's Single Reviews provides us with a wealth of top-notch songs, which admittedly isn't exactly a £100 Selfridges voucher, but after recent droughts meant Tenacious D somehow rose to the top with their worst single to date, it's certainly no swift kneecap in the bollocks.

While we’re far more supportive of her R&B brothelmusic than the anodyne cautionfest previously peddled, it’s nice to see Nelly Furtado returning to a slightly less slutflapped sound in All Good Things Come To An End, though we can’t help but think people wouldn’t care quite so much had it not been tainted blessed by the hand of Chris Martin.

Muse continue to push towards the title of most innovative and exhilarating band on the planet today with Knights of Cydonia, although it must be noted we have a difficult time not hearing Cydonia as "Cidona" - and once you've crossed that line, there's no removing the mental image of a mucky ginger child asking his Mammy if he can have a glass of the aforementioned to go with his banana and Tayto sandwich.

Lostprophets further flag up the greatness of Liberation Transmission with the anthemic Can't Catch Tomorrow. We're still not sure whether the Good Shoes Won't Save You This Time sub-title is entirely necessary, but managing to inject both melody and energy into a rock song to this extent transcends any bizarre naming conventions. Elsewhere, another icon of the wondrousness of 2006 comes in the form of The Fratellis, whose lovable lament Whistle For The Choir displays a mellow alternative to their patented acid country, and just manages to claim Single of the Week ahead of its worthy contemporaries.

However, there's one single out this week on which we can allow the bile to flow freely. Not before time either, as we were on the verge of running out of good things to say, and Lord knows, being nasty comes so much easier. Take a third of a quirky hip-pop collective turned four-piece washaway nightclub PA specialists, mix with an underachieving Tweet song too recent to warrant covering, and engulf the whole lot in a tar-like treacle of Eurocheese house. Boogie 2Nite by the faceless Booty Luv featuring Nadia and Cherise, is arguably the most pointless release of the year - although if Big Brovaz keep dividing down according to the current pattern, maybe we'll get at least one half-decent solo career.

The 'Ump: "A Moment Like This"

This year's X Factor has been a right funny one, eh? Boy bands with gender issues; frontrunners stopped in their tracks before the live shows; Louis Walsh actually coming across better than his contemporaries; The Unconventionals... well, The Unconventionals. But nothing can match the nonsensical news that has just reached Sloppy Dog Towers.

We've learned, courtesy of Digital Spy, that the winner's single has been selected as A Moment Like This, the debut single of bellowing K-Mart cashier, purveyor of pogde, and apparent American Idol winner Kelly Clarkson. A song that was eventually relegated to Bonus Track status when they realised teefing Slaguilera cast-offs was far more effective. A song that's since provided the stiltonised audio to Sandals adverts. A song so absolutely bereft of original thought, even bloody Westlife haven't touched it.

Have we learned nothing from the whole Sound of the Underground vs Sacred Trust non-debacle? There's a pattern as clear as Aisleyne's green dress between gungey, insipid, I-am-here balladry and a steep drop into the unforgiving shitter. Evergreen. Anything Is Possible. All This Time. That's My Goal. Seriously, how did Simon Cowell ever claw his way out of the BMG postroom? Sure, you're a millionaire mogul turned supposedly omnipotent pop guru, but mistakes like this only remind us that you're also responsible for some of the biggest fuck-ups in modern music. Girl Thing, anyone?

So, that's that. Once again, the Great British public invest months of Saturday night eye-squaring, spend small fortunes on the extortionate phonelines, not to mention the desolate hopefuls who put themselves firmly in the firing line in front of millions week after week, and for what? An insulting, re-harvested spunkrag of a song doubling as a one-way ticket to Brooksteinville. Farewell, Leona/Ben/Eton Road - we knew thee well, and liked you in drastically varying levels.

Single Reviews 20/11/06

Ciao ragazzi! We write this week’s Single Reviews from the picturesque Italian town of Bracciano, just outside of Rome, where we’re attending the modest ceremony of our good friends Tom ‘n’ Katie. Truth be told, we’re not too keen on her – she looks like she’s about to burst into tears at the best of times, so God help her during the vows. Seriously, we wish them all the happiness in the world, or if they prefer, a lifetime of column inches. We really should have taken a glance at their wedding list.

Inaugurating this week’s assortment of bitchery are the Red Hot Chili Peppers, though it should be noted that we’re actually quite contented with the line-up of singles this week. In fact, the only pessimistic point to address for Snow (Hey Ho) would be the use of “ho” in its title when the lyric is quite clearly “oh”. Otherwise, we’re presented with a beguiling, affable tune and the biggest redeeming feature of Stadium Arcadium. Pedantic? Us?

Although we’re more likely to wave a banner for Pink’s more ballsy repertoire, it’s always nice to heed the musician behind the stern beats and corrosive I-am-woman hollers. Nobody Knows sees Pink playing the little girl lost in a unruffled, authentic ballad, adding a squillionth string to her musical bow.

The Feeling continue to dominate the Sloppy Dog MP3 player, having provided us with the definitive album of the year. And while Love It When You Call is our least favourite excerpt from the aforementioned masterpiece, it’s still head, shoulders, groin and mid-shin area above its nearest competitors. Need we even point out that it’s out Single of the Week?


While we’re big supporters of worthwhile charities (morally, not financially), this year’s Children In Need single warrants a gloves-off examination. Once again a rush-released cover of indefensibly unoriginal proportions, we see current Beeb darling Emma Bunton taking on Downtown. Luckily, we needn’t be too harsh, as The Bunto carries it with just enough Mary-Quant-in-a-can sass that only she can pull off. Satisfactory for now, but Must Try Harder.

Next up, the elite homecoming of Take That, a return so heavily hyped, it feels like they haven’t actually been away. The reception hasn’t been exactly toasty for Patience, having been described as somewhat Bluntesque by numerous outlets. However, it’s more that it sounds like four blokes in their thirties making capable pop, which quite frankly is preferable to four blokes in their thirties reliving the days of jelly, ice cream and stark bollock nudity.

Single Reviews 13/11/06

We know whenever the Single Reviews are late, we come up with some lousy justification for the tardiness, be it a coma or an explosion or alien abduction. But we’re sure you’ll understand that it’s taken us almost a week to pick ourselves up off the floor after seeing the new M&S Christmas ad. Never have so many of the senses been so ill-treated all at once. *shudder*

Pushing the tired jailbird branding to its limits, Akon returns with Smack That, a track supposedly including Eminem as a featuring artist, yet the unmodified stench of Slim Shady throughout all but clouds Akon entirely. More likely than not, Smack That is a mere stop-gap until we’re ‘privileged’ enough to hear the former get back to sampling Tweety Pie, and the latter providing us with another HILARIOUS! and ORIGINAL! parody-packed cuss-by-numbers.

Greatest Hits albums, by their very nature, should contain the artist in question’s greatest hits (c’mon, it’s right there in the title). Oasis inaugurate their Greatest Hits – a compilation that skips much of their greatest work and most of their hits – with The Masterplan, which, by releasing as a single, is forever stripped of the hallowed title of Greatest B-Side Ever. No contesting the triumphant material itself, but the approach of it all feels very, very wrong.

Sadly having not drowned in the vomit of the entire nation induced by Rudebox, Robbie Williams sneezes out Lovelight, an apparent cover of a song by someone we’re supposed to care about. An obnoxious jumble of high notes and textbook electro-squelches, it’s the polar opposite of Snow Patrol & Martha Wainwright’s striking Set The Fire To The Third Bar. A quietly epic musical delicacy, it not only highlights the remarkable diversity of Eyes Open but is a confident Single of the Week.


Fresh off the boyband conveyor belt are 365, a band so trite and clueless, said conveyor belt is evidently jerking awkwardly whilst chugging out black smoke. Curiously, One Touch reworks the demo version of Liberty X’s No. 48 ‘smash’ X, a fact that proves 365 will have a hard time ascending from their starting point at the bottom of the sewage-storing barrel, and that we here at The Sloppy Dog should be ashamed for even knowing what a demo version of a track that reached No. 48 sounds like.

Honking Box Review: Torchwood

Can it really be five episodes into a brand new series, and we're yet to cast a condemnatory eye over it? It took us all of two seconds to tear the parched, hopeless Robin Hood to mere shreds, but we've purposely held back in scrutinising the Doctor Who spin-off Torchwood until we've had a more comprehensive gander.

BBC Three's brand new bi-fi hasn't taken long to establish itself as an edgy, identifiable drama with a knowing element of kitsch. Perhaps its none-too-covert promotion throughout every single episode of Doctor Who would explain why we've eased into it so comfortably - effectively, we've known about it since forever ago.

Supposedly a tool for the endearingly plastic Captain Jack Harkness (although it must be noted he's far better at playing the space-age slutbag than the world-weary champion), we're also introduced to his team - an aggravated tea boy, an arse-kicking Welsh bird, a slimy mockney with no lips, and only fucking NICOLA FROM SPICEWORLD. Does television get much better?!

However, it wouldn’t be a Russell T Davies classic without an overt dash of smut – though we can’t help but wonder whether Auntie has actually seen half the stuff served up throughout Torchwood. So far we've seen Mockney No-Lips essentially date-raping a married couple, the heterosexual PC Gwen lezzing it up in a prison cell, and both of the above getting congenially clammy in a mortuary drawer while a semi-naked Cyber-ho stalks the unit looking to cut herself a robo-mate. We’re fighting the urge to leave our Catholic prude hat in its box.

This week's episode sees the team investigating fairies, which, it would appear, are not all that nice. Insert your choice of weak joke from either an obscure Labyrinth reference or an obvious remark about bitchy gays.

Russell T, you've nailed it once again. It'll still be a chic day in Lidl before you top The Dark Season, but sign us up for the Torchwood Appreciation Society all the same. Assuming it doesn’t actually exist, that is... we’re being strictly metaphorical.