Honking Box Preview: The Great British Bake-Off

Just as a round-up of the hapless X Factor condemnees ahead of the Live Shows has become a yearly tradition, a spot of gushing ‘n’ guesswork prior to the final of The Great British Bake-Off is too becoming ritual. And with Series Three coming to an climax this week, it’s time to chew over (and swallow, cos only a complete fucking bonehead would spit out cake) this year’s platter of finalists.

From early shock evictees in the form of Victoria, to week-on-week skin-of-the-teeth survivors in the form of Ryan and Manisha, the selection of characters has once again been outstanding. But special mention must go to Cathryn, who began the competition as a trembling, don’t-look-at-me dormouse, before slowly morphing into some sort of apron-clad valkyrie, facing down Paul Hollywood’s judgements with egalitarian sass.

But, as ever, we’re left with three. However, whereas previous years have seen a general three-horse race for the prize, this year there’s been a clear leader from the outset. Perfect Brendan, whose lone hiccup throughout the series was during the semi-final, when one rogue strawberry half dared to droop out of its pristine custard gulag, is the obvious favourite, with an unyielding – almost robotic – determination to win. (And what Brendan did to the aforementioned strawberry’s family in cold vengeance for its foolish audacity cannot ever be uttered.)

Far more interesting finalists come in the form of John and James, interestingly the two youngest contestants, in contrast to Brendan being the oldest. Brendan’s precision and perfection and infallible skill come from years of flour-dusted trial-and-errors, a million miles away from James and his constant wing-it approach. But when his results are good, they’re very, very good indeed.

John, while likeable and a gifted baker, has perhaps had the least consistent performance across the series. But he’s entertained splendidly: calling John a wily minx; his cheeks acting as a redscale to indicate his level of flusteredness; attempting a gingerbread Coliseum AND PULLING IT OFF. He’s been good, but he’s most likely a bronze medallist.

It’s hard to see James, even with his inventiveness and quirkiness and knitted owl mascot, being picked over Brendan in black-and-white terms, but Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry can be hard to predict. And it makes for quite a final: a millimetre-precise, accomplished baker with throwback appeal; or a more haphazard, but hugely exciting, innovator.

Regardless, it’ll make for a fitting end to what’s been a gripping and entertaining series. And while, on paper, such words applied to a baking competition defies all kinds of logic, the execution has been truly brilliant. And to tide us over until the fourth series, we’ll amuse ourselves by playing YouTube clips of Mel and Sue saying the word “strudel” on repeat.

BIGkids - Never Grow Up (BIGkids Recordings)

Side projects are a funny old concept. Sometimes, they do great things, often outshining the day job: Codeine Velvet Club, The Last Shadow Puppets, Gorillaz. Other times, they pass without much noise, such as SuperHeavy. And then there’s the genuinely horrific offerings: Alex James and Betty Boo teaming up as Wigwam, anyone?

So as blue-eyed soul troubadour Mr Hudson sneaks out from under his urban credentials into candyfloss pop surroundings, it could be a recipe for disaster. But in practice, his partnership with singer Rosie Bones under the guise of BIGkids is nothing short of triumphant. Sugary and glittery and exuberant, sure, but definitely triumphant with it.

Never Grow Up is one big major key delight – traditional pop in the best possible sense, but fresh and flagrant with it. Even the more downbeat offerings fit into the overall tone – for instance, Good For You, whose simple earthiness is lifted by mischievous Tomy twiddlings. But amidst the day-glo friskiness, there’s taut, defined musicianship. Mr Hudson’s graceful tones and Rosie Bones’ rich, bluesy honk bring a real depth to proceedings.

The playful back-and-forths between the two is one of Never Grow Up’s key pleasures. But when they’re not engaging in a light-hearted lyrical duel, they’re equally as good when they form a team, purveying a genuine us-against-the-world, screw-the-rest-of-em attitude.

Never Grow Up recaptures some of the unashamed Englishness that made Mr Hudson & The Library’s debut album so effortlessly charming. His ditching of The Library and palling up with Kanye West inevitably drifted things Stateside, but he’s very much back to Blighty here, albeit with a very different tone. And as depressing as it is that Parklife and the Spice Girls now count as nostalgic references, it adds to the aforementioned Britishness whilst underlining the bouncy, light-hearted quality that makes Never Grow Up twinkle.

Business-wise, it’s probably not going to shift a squillion-odd copies. But Never Grow Up has a list of merits as long as Kanye’s rider demands. Above all else, it functions wonderfully as a good mood inducer, and displays a side to an artist most of us were completely unaware of. Possibly, even Mr Hudson himself.

Honking Box Preview: The X Factor

Welcome to the first blog post round these parts for some considerable time, and to our annual rundown of the X Factor live show fodder. You know the deal – work, summer, DIY, etc etc. Hell, if X Factor contestants are allowed to wheel out “this means everything to me” 16 times an episode, then we can regurgitate the same old excuses too.

So, aside from the presence of new judge Nicole Scherzinger on the panel (and deliciously, hated by the British public solely for not being Mel B), does this year’s X Factor have anything genuinely new to offer us? Read on...

Kye Sones

Who? Chimney sweep turned AOR busker type. Not a million miles from a certain Matt Cardle.

Ideal Theme Week: ‘Rock’ Week. While Tulisa gives her girls Ke$ha songs again, Kye will tackle a Train ‘classic’.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? A watered-down ballad as a debut single. Perhaps one penned by Gary Barlow.

Deserved placing: 5^th

Likely placing: 1^st. The White-Guy-With-Guitar epidemic that’s poisoned American Idol is heading thisaway.

Melanie Masson

Who? Vocally: absurdly noisy belter. Professionally: full-time fairy. Visually: Nicola Roberts’ reflection in a haunted mirror.

Ideal Theme Week: Rock Ballads. She’ll obliterate Bonnie Tyler’s back catalogue.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? Ill-selected PAs in chavvy nightclubs, album of covers for Mother’s Day, back to being a fairy within a year.

Deserved placing: 9^th

Likely placing: 9^th – that almighty holler will get pretty old pretty quick.

Carolynne Poole

Who? Fame Academy finalist, but for X Factor purposes, she didn’t actually exist prior to last year’s Judges Houses. Very, very good.

Ideal Theme Week: Shakira. No, wait, come back. Her Underneath Your Clothes back on Fame Academy was rather special indeed.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? No promotion beyond a performance Loose Women, on which she’ll eventually become a panellist.

Deserved placing: 1^st

Likely placing: 3^rd, if she’s lucky. There’s a touch of the Ruth Lorenzos about this one...

Lucy Spraggan

Who? One-trick Victoria-Wood-a-like, who’d have been far better suited to Britain’s Got Talent.

Ideal Theme Week: Self-Penned, Quasi-Touching-But-Mainly-Comedic Acousti-Wank Week.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? They won’t have a clue how to market her. In fairness, would anyone have a clue how to market her?

Deserved placing: 8^th

Likely placing: 6^th – it’ll be interesting to see how the public cope with hearing the same near-parody effect applied to every track, week in, week out.

Jade Ellis

Who? Single mum with half a head of hair, and a pleasant, low-key rasp.

Ideal Theme Week: Britpop Week. Not cos it’d suit her, just cos we’d quite like to see it.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? An album of dull-as-dishwater REAL JAZZ, as previously tackled by terminal dullard Rebecca Ferguson. Though, in fairness, it’s served her well...

Deserved placing: 3^rd

Likely placing: 10^th – not a whole lot of screen time + a unique quality = ITV1 VIEWERS DOEZ NOT WANTS.

 

Ella Henderson

Who? Likeable belter. In-show quirks include World War II hair, and the fact that she’s 16. The judges may have mentioned that once or twice.

Ideal Theme Week: Soul Classics. Inevitably, the closest X Factor will get is Songs That Have Been Played On American Radio At Some Point.

How will Syco bollocks up her career? By shoehorning her into a black frock and an Adele-by-numbers album. See also: Leanne Mitchell. (Y’know, her off The Voice. Look her up.)

Deserved placing: 2^nd

Likely placing: 2^nd – she’s good, but not White-Guy-With-Guitar good.

GMD3

Who? Horrendous, 1D-lite trio who claim to be all about the harmonies, yet sound like a dozen battery hens being ironed in unison. Fun fact: managed by Global Radio. Fixed? The X Factor?!

Ideal Theme Week: One Direction.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? By accidentally turning up their mics at T4 On The Beach, thus showing the world that a band full of Louis Tomlinsons is not a good idea.

Deserved placing: 11^th

Likely placing: 8^th – piggybacking on The Wanted’s fanbase can only get you so far.

Union J

Who? Horrendous, 1D-lite quartet, who represent the Frankenbands this year thanks to a fourth member squished in at the last second. Better than GMD3.

Ideal Theme Week: One Direction.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? It’ll be an intentional sabotage so as not to detract from One Direction. Or GMD3, whose uber-management will be having a quiet word with Syco.

Deserved placing: 10^th

Likely placing: 4^th, following the moment Louis gives up the ghost and just hands them You Raise Me Up.

MK1

Who? Boy-girl rap duo who brutally turfed out their founding member during their audition, then sabotaged the brilliantly-named Lightbulb Thieves at Boot Camp. Utterly ruthless.

Ideal Theme Week: Black Eyed Peas. Or, y’know, Love City Groove.

How will Syco bollocks up their career? Completely unaware of how to handle anyone who isn’t a throwaway boyband, Syco will force Labrinth to lay down one track with MK1, before forgetting about them altogether. Celebrity Big Brother for the white girl.

Deserved placing: 8^th

Likely placing: 11^th – that new-fangled rap music? On ITV? Oh goodness, no.

Jahmene Douglas

Who? Quite literally, Leighton from Trollied.

Ideal Theme Week: Anything prior to 1970. His At Last proved it nicely. His Moves Like Jagger proved it horribly.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? He’ll crumble into a quivering mess before he’s even reached his covers album. It’s unlikely they’ve learned from SuBo, and Jahmene might well be the proof of that.

Deserved placing: 4^th

Likely placing: 5^th, if his nerve and/or bladder holds out that long.

James Arthur

Who? Misshapen, soulful guitar-wielder with a distinctive voice and Deirdre Barlow’s glasses circa 1989.

Ideal Theme Week: Sting Week, or Damien Rice Week. He’ll have to make do with Big Band Week, when he rolls his eyes through Mack The Knife.

How will Syco bollocks up his career? They’ll do their damndest to emulate Ed Sheeran, note for note. James won’t play ball. He’ll cuss them out on Twitter, get dropped, and be back to playing the student union by 2014.

Deserved placing: 6^th

Likely placing: 7^th – it’ll be self-sabotage to get the hell out of the madhouse.

Rylan Clark

Who? Loathsome, fame-hungry mincefest. Most punchable contestant since Frankie Cocozza.

Ideal Theme Week: IBEEFA!! Innit! Oh my God!!!

How will Syco bollocks up his career? Rylan will do a fine job of that all by himself. Syco can put their feet up and watch him explode in a shower of glitter and complimentary lube.

Deserved placing: 12^th

Likely placing: 12^th – it’s hard to know what sort of moron Rylan will appeal to.

And let’s not forget that a 13^th spot is up for grabs in the live shows, meaning one judge will have one extra contestant. Fighting for the dubious honour of not being good enough to get through originally are simpering Scouse weepathon Christopher Maloney, passable Essex teen Amy Mottram, permatanned heavage-fest Times Red, and Matt Cardle 3.0 (or Kye Sones 2.0) Adam Burridge.

Times Red were by far the most impressive at Judges Houses with their beatbox-and-guitar interpretation of Ain’t No Sunshine/Let’s Get It Started, and far outshone the other three acts Louis selected. But Amy or Christopher will be a far more likely prospect. Not an interesting prospect, admittedly, but a far more likely one all the same.

For those of you asking about a liveblog this year, it’s probably not too likely – hell, it took a few months to even get a bogstandard blog post up and running again. However, we heartily endorse Jack Seale on the Radio Times, or Stuart Heritage on the Guardian. Or, if you’ve got a real boner for hyperbole, stating the bleeding obvious and general gutter-journalism, there’s always Digital Spy.

  

Still, no doubt we’ll be tweeting the bejesus out of it. After a horrific start to the series, with scripted conversations and contrived hashtags, it’s at least picked up as it’s progressed. But even then, it’s safe to say The X Factor has finally gone off the boil. Then again, in all fairness, how good can anything that’s not The Great British Bake-Off actually be?

Single Reviews 15/07/12

Sorry for the sparse updates these days – we’ve been so busy organising the London 2012 Olympic Games, coaching Andy Murray on how to express emotion in public, and masterminding Hard Rock Calling. By the way, Macca and The Boss, apologies for that thing with your mics the other day, but hey: when your phone needs charging, it doesn’t matter what’s plugged in. Anyway, Single Reviews, anyone?

First up, it’s Kasabian. For a band whose sound is so quickly-identifiable, it’s a surprise – and a good one, at that – to hear something that takes such a bold step away from the norm. Switchblade Smiles proves a much more desk-twiddled affair than previous material, understated and dark, with Tom Meighan’s vocals just sitting above the unremitting white noise. Somehow, it works. Whether it heralds a whole new direction is unknown, but it’s a pleasing departure all the same.

Daniel Powter – of all people – makes a comeback this week, with the inoffensive melodies and cheesy strum of Cupid. And yes, it inevitably does rhyme ‘Cupid’ with ‘stupid’. There’s very, very little to say about it. It’s every bit the hackneyed Jason Mraz sound you’d expect, and the few ears that might actually respond positively won’t even hear it, as you’d be hard pushed to find a single radio station that might consider it relevant. *disappears in puff of smoke*

Single of the Week is bestowed upon one of the few genuine talents in last year’s X Factor, the refreshing Misha B. Her debut release Home Run begins life as a gushy, soul-heavy Jennifer Hudson tribute, but kicks in after mere seconds with a fistful of pure attitude and an electro-dancehall backdrop. No wonder Tulisa turned to underhand tactics to deny Misha of viewer votes – Home Run absolutely tears the diabolical Young to shreds without even breaking a sweat.

And finally, an act who are about as country-and-western as the UK will allow, and even then, it takes a Gary Barlow/Cheryl Cole rendition to get noticed. Yes, it’s Lady Antebellum, who try to hurry things along from Need You Now’s resurgence with the AOR ballad Wanted You More. It’s hardly groundbreaking stuff, but a slightly rockier, larger sound, complete with grand strings and an engaging piano riff bring the whole thing to quite an impressive climax. Who saw that coming?!

Macy Gray - Covered (429 Records)

Rewind 13 years, and it was hard to picture Macy Gray achieving anything less than world domination. The acclaim flowed thick and fast, the sales figures rose quicker than river levels in a UK “drought” period, and her mantelpiece heaved under the weight of many an award.

But for whatever reason, things petered out for Macy Gray, and pretty quickly. So after a decade of non-starter albums and a ropey stint on Dancing With The Stars, she’s decided to return with what can either be described as a clever move or a desperate gimmick: a covers album.

A subdued start via Eurythmics’ Here Comes The Rain Again may not be the huge, audible bang needed to kickstart a record, but it’s a tender, affected and stirring rendition. There’s no overall theme on Covered; merely a selection of tracks given the once-over, and for the most part, successfully.

It’s a fairly predictable exercise on Radiohead’s Creep, but in all fairness, there’s little that can be done with Creep without it verging on sacrilege. Similarly, it’s no huge surprise on Metallica’s Nothing Else Matters.

However, her take on My Chemical Romance’s Teenagers is truly inspired. The melody is adhered to strictly, but a plinky, jazz-lite arrangement almost gives it a bizarre lullaby quality. And the frenetic, quickening race through Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs is brimming with character.

I Try makes an appearance in the form of an ill-advised skit, in which the odious Nicole Scherzinger rips the piss out of Alanis Morissette, Shakira and Britney Spears. It’s hard not to wonder whether the latter comes from some X Factor-related sour grapes, but whatever the hell it is, Covered isn’t the place for it.

On the subject of I Try, it was a track which, in spite of its successes, proved to be quite the albatross. There were those who identified its classically-brilliant songwriting but didn’t take to the package Gray offered as a performer; and since, there’s been those who have stamped her with the one-hit wonder tag.

What Covered does is underline exactly what Gray can do as an artist. These are songs that are (largely) well-known and much-loved, and thus, the only scrutiny to apply to the project is based solely on the choices Macy Gray makes as a vocalist. And while the Marmite quality is still indubitably there, Covered is an album of personality, of intelligent choices, and of tracks which showcase a genuinely unique talent rather nicely indeed.

Single Reviews 17/06/12

Welcome to this week’s Single Reviews. And completely by accident, it’s a ballad special here on The Sloppy Dog. If this were a late-night radio station, we’d be introducing it as ‘back-to-back love songs’ in a deep, husky voice, inviting you to get squelchy with your significant other until a vulgar ad for 118 Maureen curtly interrupts proceedings.

We’ll ease you gently into the Single Reviews with Fiona Apple, whose comeback starts with the hushed, fluffy Every Single Night. In fact, it’s barely even there. Obviously, this is Fiona Apple – no Dr Luke production or Flo Rida cameos here, but even within the sphere of what she can do, it’s hard not to be perplexed by the melody-lite stillness. And it doesn’t say much about her musical legacy when the first thing that comes to mind is an Officer Barbrady quote.

Stooshe’s second single (or fourth, depending on your perspective) comes in the form of Black Heart, a Shaznay Lewis-penned ballad with Motown leanings and huge vocals. After the noise made by Love Me, it does well to show a different side to them, but ultimately, isn’t quite up to the same quality. Still, in a world where The Saturdays are the UK’s biggest girlband, a group like Stooshe are a very welcome proposition.

From an exciting, ballsy pop group to... well, One Direction. Aside from What Makes You Beautiful, you’d be hard pushed to recall anything else they’ve done. Unless you’re a rabid 14-year-old Twitter-hijacker, that is. They’ve not done a bad job on More Than This, a melodious ballad precision-engineered to induce tears in females under a certain age. And hey, releasing a slowie gives them an excuse to not dance. Y’know, aside from the fact they CAN’T dance.

And off the back of that, it’s ironic that an indie band can do vocal harmonies better than a boyband. Case in point: The Futureheads, with their frankly peculiar acapella single Beeswing. Save for the occasional finger-snap, it’s nothing but voices, as is the case with the entire Rant album. It’s a strange move, but Beeswing is blokey, full of character, and unashamedly Geordie. And bravery deserves rewarding, so it’s a well-warranted Single of the Week.

Honking Box Preview: The Voice Final

Amidst all the fanfare about the Diamond Jubilee, the onslaught of the Olympics, and the impending European Championships, the fast-approaching final of the inaugural series of The Voice UK hasn’t quite grabbed the attention of the nation. But is it that it’s gotten lost amongst the numerous other events, or has the show itself gotten it all wrong?

When the series was first announced, our main worry was that the BBC wouldn’t give it the budget or the hype that it required, following in the limping footsteps of So You Think You Can Dance. But, in fairness to Auntie, the show has been gifted a healthy, impact-making budget, and a real sense of event.

So where exactly has it failed? Or has it even failed at all? Of course, detractors (and rabid Will Young devotees) are quick to call it a flop, and the ratings do give that theory some credibility, but it’s certainly got the nation talking, and numbers-wise, has hardly plummeted in a pattern emulating Celebrity Wrestling.

The main problem seems to be that the series is back-to-front – it begins with the most exciting component, and goes downhill from there. The blind auditions caught everyone’s attention, and wiped the floor with Britain’s Got Talent. The battle rounds were pretty clumsy, but still made for an interesting twist. Then we come to the live shows, and it’s pretty much Fame Academy all over again.

Quite how we’d do Series Two differently, it’s hard to say. Where it’d take all of 20 minutes to come up with a lengthy and detailed list of how to improve The X Factor, it’s difficult to determine exactly what needs to happen to The Voice. It’s entertaining, it’s found some great talent, but it’s lacking that certain something you can’t quite put your finger on... that ‘x’ factor. Cripes.

Back to Series One, and the final is looking fairly interesting, in that at least 75% of the acts have a decent shot at an actual music career. It’s a shame the exceptional Ruth Brown fell at the last hurdle, but it was hard to overlook her shambolic version of Emeli Sande’s Next To Me the previous week, in which she contorted her face into that of Pumbaa whilst taking a massive dump all over the concept of enunciation.

So, who are we left with?

Tyler James

Heading up Team Will – and far more deserving of a place in the final than Jaz Ellington, whose backdrop of his wife’s 15-foot-high face was irrevocably tasteless – is nu-blues proto-crooner Tyler. The most we know about Tyler as far as the show’s official storyline goes is that he was mates with Amy Winehouse. They’ve failed to mention he supported her on tour numerous times, and has a selection of Top 40 hits under his belt. But he’s got something fairly special, and The Voice might just give him the break he very nearly had six years ago.

Likely position: 2nd

Leanne Mitchell

Team Tom was never the most contemporary line-up, a point proven by its last hope, Leanne. She boasts some impressive pipes, but everything about her screams cruise ship. The best she can hope for beyond The Voice is a half-decent stage career – a touring production of Blood Brothers, perhaps? Or, more realistically, the Fairy Godmother in Cinderella at the Stockport Garrick opposite Gary Lucy and Siren from Gladiators?

Likely position: 4th

Vince Kidd

...Or, to go by the name on his birth certificate, the little one from Futureproof. But Vince has been proof of just how stifling The X Factor is, unleashing an outlandish, gritty, shamelessly camp musician. A good representative for Team Jessie, Vince probably offers the most unique qualities of all the remaining acts, but that could well go against him. Come on – do you really see Middle England voting for the peroxide dwarf in the wife-beater and the vinyl leggings?

Likely position: 3rd

Bo Bruce

Maybe Danny O’Donoghue had the right idea filling his team with interchangeable pubescent white boys – it only served to highlight the brilliance of Bo Bruce. She’s been likened to Diana Vickers, Dolores O’Riordan and Alex Parks – all of which are fair comparisons – but there’s a real sense of quiet artistry about Baroness Bo that should see her crowned the winner, and a deserving one at that.

Likely position: 1st

But where Bo will go from here is the real acid test. Will she rush-release a clunky covers album to cash in on the series, or take her time to cultivate her sound until the public have forgotten her altogether? Presumably, they can’t get it as catastrophically wrong as Syco manage to get it, year in, year out, but it’s worth noting that, as far as the public are concerned, the mark of a talent show’s success isn’t ratings or column inches. It’s talent. And if The Voice can handle that talent correctly, it should set itself up pretty nicely for Series Two, and beyond.

Single Reviews 27/05/12

Yikes. We’re a bit late with the ol’ Single Reviews this week, eh? Nice weather plus birthday celebrations equal slight tardiness. That’s a hint to send well-wishes, by the way. Under scrutiny this time around are a piss-weak ‘we’re-not-a-boyband’ boyband, some 90s bastions of brilliance, the return of an art-rock popstrel, and the rare sight of an X Factor winner with a record deal. So, without any further ado...

Ladyhawke starts us off this week with Sunday Drive, which somehow outclasses even My Delirium as her best offering yet. A heady fusion of cheeky piano and dizzying electro-swizz makes the perfect backdrop for a swooning, covertly-striking, melancholic chorus. The greatest thing to come out of New Zealand since... since... The Almighty Johnsons? Nice backdrops for Hollywood films? Bloody Kimbra? Actually, it’s not all that complimentary, is it?

Meet Lawson, another dreary British boyband who think a few instruments conjures up immediate credibility. Granted, they’ve got more substance than One Direction or The Wanted, but When She Was Mine is a miserable mid-tempo marshland, beyond bland and stuffed to bursting point with tired ideas. Trying to do what BBMak did better 12 years ago probably isn’t the greatest starting point for a career.

Single of the Week is proudly awarded to a band whose output never seems to falter in quality. After a good couple of decades in the proverbial biz, Saint Etienne have got their craft of sophisticated synth-pop down to a fine art, with I’ve Got Your Music the perfect example of infectious but understated house-lite indie we’ve come to love them for. Whose head to we have to put a gun to for this sort of thing to make it onto a playlist?

And finally, the foray into strident Euro-noise continues for Alexandra Burke, and it actually suits her rather well. Let It Go has a marginally more recognisable appeal than previous single Elephant, but overall it’s fairly unimaginative stuff, and has to rely pretty heavily on the personality Alexandra injects liberally into proceedings. Christ knows what dreary results we’d get if Leona Lewis had to tackle the same problem.

Single Reviews 20/05/12

Oh, it’s you. Sorry, didn’t see you there – we were busy toasting marshmallows on the Olympic Flame. Well, what else is it good for? On the Single Reviews this week, a good band, a crap band, a rather annoying pop diva doing something quite good, and a former Ash member doing something a bit rubbish. It’s all very unsettling...

The amazing Charlotte Hatherley unveils her peculiar electro sort-of-alter-ego Sylver Tongue, although anyone hoping for another Bastardo will be truly gutted. The busy, fieldmousey keyboard squeaks of Creatures carries precisely no melody – or perhaps it’s about 54 different melodies, we’re not sure yet – and overall makes for a seriously difficult listen. We want to love it, really. But we’ll have to concede this one’s passed us by.

Single of the Week is brought to us by London five-piece Spector, with the dynamic stadium indie of Celestine. It boasts immediate wallop, but from there, goes via bouncing guitars and dirty breakdowns to a soaring climax. Sounding rather like Editors after a few too many Red Bulls, and yet still boasting a vibe all their own, there’s a good chance their upcoming debut album could well be a 2012 highlight.

Jennifer Lopez, of all people, pulls the proverbial rabbit out of the proverbial hat with the surprisingly impressive Dance Again. Alas, it gives yet a further platform to serial collaborator and all-round rap-bore Pitbull, and the whole thing is Red One by numbers, but its tune is strangely spellbinding, and makes for a high point in a career of wishy-washy, overtwiddled R&B. Reluctant kudos awarded.

And finally, The Wanted kindly provide yet another example of how not to do pop, with Chasing the Sun every bit as predictable and forgettable as everything they’ve done post-All Time Low, all off-the-shelf house beats and a chorus of ohs and whoas. And let’s also address the video, in which they play vampires. Wow! That’s such a bold move! As daring and as original as the song itself. Now do fuck off, please.

Single Reviews 13/05/12

Welcome to the Single Reviews, on a week Great Britain learns it has a Prime Minister who doesn’t even know what ‘LOL’ means. Hell, that’s even worse than the fact he was schmoozing Rebekah Brooks in the first place. As a nation, we are truly doomed. Still, if you’re looking for recommendations for your apocalypse playlist, then read on, as we can offer a fine selection...

Nigerian rapper D’Banj is up first, with the hypnotic thump of Oliver Twist. Nonsense lyrics about arse-shaking and listing celebrity ladies he’d like to bone may not be the most appealing aspect of a song, but it’s hard to resist the mesmerising tribal beats and brilliantly daft rapalong chorus. Mix that with the lucrative Kanye West stamp of approval, and it’s safe to say we’ll be hearing Oliver Twist for some time to come.

Blood Red Shoes score a Single of the Week with the robust rhythms and brooding licks of Lost Kids. For the most part, it’s a solid, if fairly standard, indie-rock effort, but the intense, growing chorus brings Lost Kids into its own: a sharp-edged, attitude-laden anthem from one of Brighton’s brightest. If rock has any fighting chance of returning to the charts, it bodes well that it’s got Blood Red Shoes in its corner.

Neon Hitch drops a good few storeys in our estimations with the grotesque F U Betta, a messy, runny McHouse number with precisely zero relevance. She’s clearly going for some sort of legs-akimbo Rihanna skankfest, and she does achieve it on the most base of levels, but any vague credibility she may have once carried is lost amongst the overprogrammed beats, AutoTune hell and presumably whiffy quarter-leotards.

And finally, The Saturdays miraculously turn out a good song in what’s become one of the most dull, personality-free girlband catalogues in music history. It’s not quite on a par with Up, but 30 Days is playful, danceable, entertaining and a step away from the faceless, forgettable squelch that’s made up most of their recent output. (We’ll overlook the atrocious video shot in a motorway diner on a budget of £150.)