Not really a disastrous month for music. Vacuous, boring, inane, yes. But not a disaster. Still there was enough in the way of the above adjectives to compile a list this month. Also see Peter Simpson’s in-depth analysis on Chicane’s latest bullshit here.
5) Outta Here – Esmée Denters
Like clogs and Heineken, Denters is one of those Dutch exports that it’s hard to get very excited about. It’s not great pop music, but it’s not the worst either, just like Heineken isn’t great beer, and clogs aren’t great footwear. For a Dutch national, she seems to be no fan of progressive liberalism either. Lyrics include a diatribe against cloning or plastic surgery or something, who would have thought?
4) Now I’m That Bitch – Livvi Franc feat. (sigh) Pitbull.
I wasn’t sure whether to include this or not, but Pitbull convinced me I should. Straight off the motherf’ng streets of Harrogate, Livvi Franc is an odd choice to pair up with dunderhead hispanic exploitation merchant Pitbull, and there’s very little to justify his inclusion on the record, other than for publicity. Which is a shame, because the song is passable without him. Also the word bitch is not a misogynistic slur, but rather a feminist appropriation, turning it into an acronym for ‘Babe In Total Control of Herself’. Nice, I’m looking at Akon in a whole different light.
3) Celebration – Madonna (WARNING: Links to Madonna video)
I used up most of my cruelty towards Madonna earlier in the week. So with that in mind, I’ll try and rein in criticism. As irrelevant as never before, Madonna’s latest single is another Identi-Kit dance number, polished and glossy like an Argos catalogue, and much like said catalogue, what’s on offer here is of low quality. She’s been usurped by Lady GaGa to name one, and it’s only going downhill from here
2) New York – Paloma Faith
She may appear hipper than your average generic soulful female singer, but that doesn’t mean she’s above romanticising for the sake of clichéd romance. Boy leaves girl but for the big city, nobody ever mentions why. It was originally going to be titled ‘Bradford’ but they told her to go back and sex it up a bit. Perhaps this is the way forward for the tourism industry, an album of songs consisting solely of city names. Lou Reed is probably looking for work.
1) Fire Burning – Sean Kingston
Somebody call 911! Shorty fire burning on the dance floor. I have no idea what this means but I doubt the emergency services really need to get involved. It’s almost painful to think Seany Kingston gets caught under Flo Rida’s wheels and resorts to the sort of moronic bleating club numbers that ‘Rida’ so excels at. He can actually sing and could be doing a lot more with his talent, but he’d make less money so I’m not holding out hope of a change. Also people have died in nightclub fires before. I don’t think it’s something to be taken lightly.
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