What was unthinkable just three weeks ago has become an exciting and tense footballing reality. Manchester United were swanning down the home straight to the Premiership title, had drawn the - on paper - weakest opposition in the Champions League, had two cups in the cabinet and were in the semi finals of a third. The question wasn't whether United would win more trophies, but whether they could win ALL five of them.
That has now changed, quickly and drastically. United met Liverpool in a make-or-break match - for the Anfield side anyway - that, had United won, would have all but settled the Premiership title race. But they crumbled at the hands of Rafa Benitez, whose well-organised, energetic side led by Torres and Gerrard carried out a clinical and thrilling 4-1 dismantling of Alex Ferguson's men. Since that result, United have put in three lacklustre performances since: a 2-0 humbling at Fulham, an undeserved victory against Aston Villa thanks to a 17-year old debutant's moment of magic, and a barely deserved draw at home in the Champions League (quarter finals, no less) against Porto.
The last four games have exposed severe frailties in defence and a worrying lack of creativity going forward. United have conceded more goals in the last three Premier League games than in their previous 15, and have proven that without the formidable Ferdinand/Vidic partnership, others - notably Gary Neville and John O'Shea, not to mention Edwin Van Der Sar - are nowhere near the level required to keep clean sheets against top teams when the pair are missing.
Similarly, United's attacking options have run out of steam at just the wrong time. Ronaldo seems to be sulking, though two excellent goals against Villa managed to stave off excessive criticism and he could yet prove to be the single deciding factor in United's success this season. Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs both now look short on fitness when required to dominate the midfield in big games, with the latter virtually restricted to substitute appearances to affect matches. Michael Carrick, so essential for much of the season, seems to have run himself into the ground trying to provide defensive cover at the expense of the consistently injured Owen Hargreaves, and both vision and passing at the expense of Fletcher, who has neither. Whisper it, but a key figure for United currently missing is the Brazilian youngster Anderson, who can provide the perfect foil to Carrick's deeper creativity. United's bit-part midfielders, Ji-Sung Park and Nani, have suddenly become big game necessities.
Berbatov's disappointing season looks set to end in patches as he returns from injury, and United's predicament was summed up neatly by last night's performance,where only the industry and loyalty of Wayne Rooney and Carlos Tevez saved United's blushes - and the latter isn't even a full United player, still. The fans have made up their minds firmly on where Tevez's future should lie, though, and Ferguson should have the nous to realise how important he is to keep. If not, Barcelona or Real Madrid will surely come calling.
Against Porto, United were out-passed, outmanoeuvred, devoid of flair and that winning mentality that Ferguson instills in all of his teams, gifted their opening goal and lucky not to concede twice as many. Of course, that they had to work extremely hard against Villa barely 48 hours earlier showed. Again there, United were second all over the pitch for the third league game in a row, but the heroic Federico Macheda's last-gasp winner to steal three points was supposed to reignite the United march for five trophies.
The ecstasy and jubilation at that goal subsided last night, however, when United turned in another poor performance against a thrilling Porto team, and dealt their Champions League defence a hammer blow. It would be stupid to write United off in any of their competitions yet though - Ferguson's various United generations have made snatching victories from defeat's open jaws a habit over the last decade. An unprecedented quintuple would be Ferguson's greatest feat, possibly unrepeatable in future seasons, and United still have the time and the players to chase that dream.
Very quickly, however, Manchester United need to rediscover their form and self-belief of a few weeks ago, or the wonderkid's goal that supposedly set their title ambitions back on course will turn out to be much ado about nothing.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Jade Goody's 'legacy' should not be as a cash cow
The late Jade Goody has always been a favourite target of mine for this blog and throughout its archives are probably a generous spread of more-than-derisory remarks on the unfortunate icon who became the figurehead of a reality TV-obsessed - but not always friendly - media. I hadn't wanted to make any comment on her death - heaven knows it's everywhere else right now - but the fallout from Jade's demise peaked at fever pitch some weeks ago, and has failed to drop off since. It had been acceptable, although naturally over the top, but the personal tipping point came for me over the weekend, as headlines screamed of globally-renowned actresses being lined up to portray Goody in a film about her life.
Now let's get one thing straight. Jade Goody was an ordinary woman, with no outstanding talent, who contributed nothing of worth to society at large for about 26 of the 27 years of her life. In fact, her lack of intellect, Essex roots and loud mouth were remarkably common, middle of the road. Aside from (the small matter of) her early death, the more recent of Goody's years have been graced by extraordinary good luck.
Catapulted from a lower-class abyss to nationwide stardom in just a summer - with not one identifiable reason why, apart from a ravenous desire on the public's part for her documented humiliation - Goody was the first, and ultimate, reality TV star. Goody was ridiculed, admonished, shamed and caught out for months - yet refused to go away. It came full circle when, two years ago, she went on Big Brother again, this time as a celebrity in her own right. Books, videos, relationships, photoshoots, columns, interviews, TV shows - Jade Goody was the cat that got all the reality TV cream. She was rich, she was a success, beyond the dreams of many who share similar backgrounds to the Bermondsey babe, and for nothing more than exploiting the happy chance fate decreed her. She was the first to benefit from the insatiable cycle of reality TV feeding tabloids feeding public feeding reality TV, and because she was, she was also the last one standing. She is the irritating testament to just how far you can go in this country - despite having no remarkable talent whatsoever.
But it was not for her life in the media spotlight that Jade has a 'legacy'. In fact following the 'racism row' (more stupidity than malicious, and it's made Shilpa Shetty a household name), Goody was starting to tumble down the side of the peak she had been atop for so long. It was the onset of an untimely and unstoppable death that swung things back again.
To me, it says something that it took being diagnosed with cancer, that most terrible of illnesses, for the public to forgive and accept Jade Goody (I mean a certain public here, not necessarily everyone, and certainly not myself). It doesn't say a lot for her regard, and it doesn't say a lot for the press either, who were quite happily lambasting the woman one day and quite suddenly mourning for her the next.
The months leading up to the inevitable were quite astonishing. She did what any normal mother would, and that was to safeguard her children's future as best she possibly could, and, in the privileged position of being able to command hundreds of thousands of pounds for her fast-diminishing time, must have accounted for a lot of money, and is still probably making heaps as I write. Handled correctly, the money Jade will have secured will be immense, but the act alone does not make the woman remarkable.
Jade Goody also campaigned, with incredible success in such a short period of time, to raise the awareness of cervical cancer. Again, aided by the constant spotlight of a media falling over itself to portray her as an understudy to Princess Diana, great work has been achieved to this end. But there are many charities, and countless women who are faceless and nameless behind the scenes, who are doing exactly the same sort of work, for far, far less success. Goody's heroic success in reaching out to generations of women with an urgent and potentially life-saving message is remarkable only in its highlighting of how collective support can be mobilised by something as trivial as a twentysomething single mum dying. As if that doesn't happen every day of the week. Many of my friends have raised money in their own way for charities to support other family members and loved ones to the full extent they can. Jade did nothing differently to you or I; she merely had the help of the nation's daily media on her side.
It is the mark of a nation who can raise £57 million in one evening for a televised charity appeal, but who look the other way when offered a £1.80 Big Issue.
'Cash' and 'cow' are two words that have followed the late Ms Goody around from the moment she filled our television screens ten years ago. But she died a near-national treasure, a term that no matter how I look at her story, her 'achievements', her 'troubled past', her 'success', I cannot bring myself to accept. Her life story is made all the more remarkable by just how ordinary a woman she was, and how easily she was able to forge a career via an ever-present spotlight, and a huge market lapping up every tit-bit, good, bad or - as was often the Jade Goody case - ugly.
Hers is a story barely worth re-telling, lest the extreme spectrum of reality lived out by Goody be over- or under-played. She is worth remembering, of course, but a reinterpretation of Jade Goody's life will no doubt lend itself to a heart-warming, feelgood outcome. To preserve the memory of Jade Goody the person does not require Jade Goody: The Film (a.k.a one final money-spinning opportunity). No doubt her estate - no longer a two up, two down in Romford - will want the legacy of Jade Goody to be decent and dignified, qualities that the woman herself sometimes embarrassingly lacked. But a blockbuster movie would be indicative only of the society that made her the celebrity, and not of the down to earth, bubbly and honest qualities that made Jade Goody the person.
If it does happen, a film to mark Goody's death would be in danger of distorting reality one time too many. Because however much it may try to have us believe, the life and times of Jade Goody did not have a happy ending after all.
Now let's get one thing straight. Jade Goody was an ordinary woman, with no outstanding talent, who contributed nothing of worth to society at large for about 26 of the 27 years of her life. In fact, her lack of intellect, Essex roots and loud mouth were remarkably common, middle of the road. Aside from (the small matter of) her early death, the more recent of Goody's years have been graced by extraordinary good luck.
Catapulted from a lower-class abyss to nationwide stardom in just a summer - with not one identifiable reason why, apart from a ravenous desire on the public's part for her documented humiliation - Goody was the first, and ultimate, reality TV star. Goody was ridiculed, admonished, shamed and caught out for months - yet refused to go away. It came full circle when, two years ago, she went on Big Brother again, this time as a celebrity in her own right. Books, videos, relationships, photoshoots, columns, interviews, TV shows - Jade Goody was the cat that got all the reality TV cream. She was rich, she was a success, beyond the dreams of many who share similar backgrounds to the Bermondsey babe, and for nothing more than exploiting the happy chance fate decreed her. She was the first to benefit from the insatiable cycle of reality TV feeding tabloids feeding public feeding reality TV, and because she was, she was also the last one standing. She is the irritating testament to just how far you can go in this country - despite having no remarkable talent whatsoever.
But it was not for her life in the media spotlight that Jade has a 'legacy'. In fact following the 'racism row' (more stupidity than malicious, and it's made Shilpa Shetty a household name), Goody was starting to tumble down the side of the peak she had been atop for so long. It was the onset of an untimely and unstoppable death that swung things back again.
To me, it says something that it took being diagnosed with cancer, that most terrible of illnesses, for the public to forgive and accept Jade Goody (I mean a certain public here, not necessarily everyone, and certainly not myself). It doesn't say a lot for her regard, and it doesn't say a lot for the press either, who were quite happily lambasting the woman one day and quite suddenly mourning for her the next.
The months leading up to the inevitable were quite astonishing. She did what any normal mother would, and that was to safeguard her children's future as best she possibly could, and, in the privileged position of being able to command hundreds of thousands of pounds for her fast-diminishing time, must have accounted for a lot of money, and is still probably making heaps as I write. Handled correctly, the money Jade will have secured will be immense, but the act alone does not make the woman remarkable.
Jade Goody also campaigned, with incredible success in such a short period of time, to raise the awareness of cervical cancer. Again, aided by the constant spotlight of a media falling over itself to portray her as an understudy to Princess Diana, great work has been achieved to this end. But there are many charities, and countless women who are faceless and nameless behind the scenes, who are doing exactly the same sort of work, for far, far less success. Goody's heroic success in reaching out to generations of women with an urgent and potentially life-saving message is remarkable only in its highlighting of how collective support can be mobilised by something as trivial as a twentysomething single mum dying. As if that doesn't happen every day of the week. Many of my friends have raised money in their own way for charities to support other family members and loved ones to the full extent they can. Jade did nothing differently to you or I; she merely had the help of the nation's daily media on her side.
It is the mark of a nation who can raise £57 million in one evening for a televised charity appeal, but who look the other way when offered a £1.80 Big Issue.
'Cash' and 'cow' are two words that have followed the late Ms Goody around from the moment she filled our television screens ten years ago. But she died a near-national treasure, a term that no matter how I look at her story, her 'achievements', her 'troubled past', her 'success', I cannot bring myself to accept. Her life story is made all the more remarkable by just how ordinary a woman she was, and how easily she was able to forge a career via an ever-present spotlight, and a huge market lapping up every tit-bit, good, bad or - as was often the Jade Goody case - ugly.
Hers is a story barely worth re-telling, lest the extreme spectrum of reality lived out by Goody be over- or under-played. She is worth remembering, of course, but a reinterpretation of Jade Goody's life will no doubt lend itself to a heart-warming, feelgood outcome. To preserve the memory of Jade Goody the person does not require Jade Goody: The Film (a.k.a one final money-spinning opportunity). No doubt her estate - no longer a two up, two down in Romford - will want the legacy of Jade Goody to be decent and dignified, qualities that the woman herself sometimes embarrassingly lacked. But a blockbuster movie would be indicative only of the society that made her the celebrity, and not of the down to earth, bubbly and honest qualities that made Jade Goody the person.
If it does happen, a film to mark Goody's death would be in danger of distorting reality one time too many. Because however much it may try to have us believe, the life and times of Jade Goody did not have a happy ending after all.
Monday, March 02, 2009
Seeing wood for the trees
This economic climate, then. I've avoided getting on to it until now, because it's been everywhere for too long already and it's getting worse through constant coverage, doom-mongering, and so on like this blog. But it's taken some very real effects to people close at hand to bring home just how quickly this climate needs to bounce back.
I won't say much about it because I had genuine faith in people, the power of uniting in the face of adversity and challenging a crisis head on, to believe that come end of 2009, we'd have turned this ship around and been heading for a brighter horizon, albeit it sailing with much more care and attention to the course.
I don't believe that anymore. I don't believe in people now. This is all someone else's fault. Everyone is out for themselves, no one trusts anyone else to do something about the crisis, and individually everyone is contributing to a worsening situation that affects everyone collectively more badly than the day before anyway. There is no public trust in the banks or the Government to pull the economy around, there is only finger pointing between institutions to blame the crisis on a cause instead of unity and responsibility in getting through this, the media tells us the worst is yet to come, then behind us, then the worst ever, and no one is looking further than their own nose.
But it is going to take trust, more than anything, to turn this situation around. Only by putting faith in the people paid/elected to do their jobs right will this issue be addressed. If people actually thought, for one moment, 'hang on, what if I do something about it?' and changed the negative attitudes, put some belief (and some money) back into the banks and the economy, rather than cursing that damned 'someone' whose fault this all is, then things would be brighter based on a collective unity and effort to right the wrongs.
Yes mistakes have been made by few in high places, and everyone now has to suffer the consequences. But the consequences have now become so vast that everyone will have to pick up the pieces, not just for themselves but for others, to reverse the sliding global economy. It's going to require trust in each other to pull together for a greater good, instead of individual short-term safety (which has thus far done nothing but bad - for anyone). The bigger picture needs repairing through the changed views of millions of little pictures. But when the public can't seem to see the wood for the trees, I don't trust anyone else to think the same way.
I won't say much about it because I had genuine faith in people, the power of uniting in the face of adversity and challenging a crisis head on, to believe that come end of 2009, we'd have turned this ship around and been heading for a brighter horizon, albeit it sailing with much more care and attention to the course.
I don't believe that anymore. I don't believe in people now. This is all someone else's fault. Everyone is out for themselves, no one trusts anyone else to do something about the crisis, and individually everyone is contributing to a worsening situation that affects everyone collectively more badly than the day before anyway. There is no public trust in the banks or the Government to pull the economy around, there is only finger pointing between institutions to blame the crisis on a cause instead of unity and responsibility in getting through this, the media tells us the worst is yet to come, then behind us, then the worst ever, and no one is looking further than their own nose.
But it is going to take trust, more than anything, to turn this situation around. Only by putting faith in the people paid/elected to do their jobs right will this issue be addressed. If people actually thought, for one moment, 'hang on, what if I do something about it?' and changed the negative attitudes, put some belief (and some money) back into the banks and the economy, rather than cursing that damned 'someone' whose fault this all is, then things would be brighter based on a collective unity and effort to right the wrongs.
Yes mistakes have been made by few in high places, and everyone now has to suffer the consequences. But the consequences have now become so vast that everyone will have to pick up the pieces, not just for themselves but for others, to reverse the sliding global economy. It's going to require trust in each other to pull together for a greater good, instead of individual short-term safety (which has thus far done nothing but bad - for anyone). The bigger picture needs repairing through the changed views of millions of little pictures. But when the public can't seem to see the wood for the trees, I don't trust anyone else to think the same way.
Friday, February 20, 2009
It's Calypso cricket, Andrew, but not as we know it
Fortune favours the brave. He who dares wins. Just a couple of cliches that could be, and have been, applied to England's 3rd Test in Antigua. If you're feeling particularly vitriolic, you could apply them more specifically to Andrew Strauss's captaincy. In these days of instant success or failure, a lot of questions, if not criticism, will be placed at the spikes of Andrew Strauss.
But this was only Strauss's second Test match as captain proper. It was also one in exceptionally unusual circumstances, although given the Mumbai bombing-affected Tests last December, abandoning one due to the pitch being more like a beach and rearranging the next for two days later must seem like pretty standard fare by comparison. Regardless, several key decisions had to be made, and as it was England drew a Test they should have won.
The first decision was whether to make the West Indies follow on, after dismissing them for a first innings total of 285. Strauss instead chose to bat again. Was he right? England's bowlers were on a roll, there was enough time in the day to take another couple of West Indies wickets, and possibly pile on the pressure for day three. They could have knocked the West Indies all out for an innings defeat, or leaving a meagre total to chase in England's second innings.
But: Flintoff had picked up an injury. Harmison had been unwell all day. In fact the whole team had toiled admirably in the hot sun all day, and would have to do so again indefinitely the next day. Batting again, the West Indies could have posted a total some 200/250 ahead of England, leaving Strauss's men a difficult run chase and the danger of losing. And bearing in mind the last match's 51...
So for my money, it seems in hindsight that not enforcing the follow on was the right choice. By leading England out to bat again, Strauss ensured that England eventually put themselves in an unassailable position - 500 runs ahead. But one or two points stick with how he got there.
The second decision in sending James Anderson out as a nightwatchman at the end of day three was too defensive. We weren't protecting a lead because every run gained was an extra piece of the target for West Indies to have to chase, so a lower order nightwatchman was a hindrance as Anderson slowed things down - especially on the morning of day four - in Strauss's quest to reach a 500+ lead. Thirdly, there are question marks over the need to have that high a lead anyway. By giving the West Indies 450 or so to think about, a carrot dangling so to speak, they may have been inclined to go for their shots, take risks, and be more likely to go out. Did Strauss effectively price Windies out of the game to England's cost? Was he too worried about losing?
Well, really the answer is no. The Windies reached 380 - not all out, either - when trying not to take risks and score lots of runs. The ground, small and uneven, is notorious for having big run-scoring records broken on it. A lead of anything less than 500 would have been less of a carrot dangling, and more on a plate: England bowled 128 overs defending 503, and even then the West Indies only needed to score 4 an over to win against that lead. If they'd have been actually trying to score runs to win rather than avoid defeat, and especially if that target had been sub-500, who would have bet against the Windies getting there?
So we've established that Strauss's decision not to enforce the follow on was correct, the decision to declare with a 500+ lead was sensible, even if putting out Anderson slowed up the scoring. Why, then, did England not win?
There's a case to be made for the weather. England lost 75 minutes bowling time to rain, and bearing in mind England spent about 35 minutes trying to get the last wicket, it would be safe to say that with an extra 75 minutes that task would have been achieved. Of course, that is too simplistic because in the morning both Chanderpaul and Sarwan were at the crease, so it was they who would have taken up the minutes. but who's to say we'd not have rattled through them before tea, if it hadn't been for the rain?
Ifs, buts, maybes. The real truth of the matter, and the central point to this roundabout defence of Andrew Strauss, is that he is captain of a side that is not as good as it was two, three, four years ago - bowling especially. Anderson and Harmison shared just four of the 19 West Indies wickets to fall - Harmison in particular looked sluggish, bowling short and erratically for the most part. Swann is a virtual beginner in Test cricket, bowling in just his third ever Test - and he was England's keynote spinner. Broad, so useful in the second innings, remains expensive, and is only just beginning to show signs of maturing into a consistent world class bowler. Flintoff was the man to make things happen with the ball, but is short of full fitness and hasn't made a noteworthy score with the bat since returning from injury.
On the subject of batting, Pietersen's oddly subdued innings, Cook's two unconverted 50s, Owais Shah's uneventful debut and Collingwood's place-saving (career-saving?) century all went unnoticed in the excitement. No real complaints but overall, England were taught a lesson in Antigua on how to bat in the face of adversity, how to apply oneself to the task in hand and contribute to a match-saving team effort.
Cometh the hour, it was cometh the West Indies performers. England have got positives to build upon - I remain convinced that this match would have been an England victory but for the rain delay - but Strauss has got to ensure his troops are rallied, confident and prepared to win in the 4th Test.
But this was only Strauss's second Test match as captain proper. It was also one in exceptionally unusual circumstances, although given the Mumbai bombing-affected Tests last December, abandoning one due to the pitch being more like a beach and rearranging the next for two days later must seem like pretty standard fare by comparison. Regardless, several key decisions had to be made, and as it was England drew a Test they should have won.
The first decision was whether to make the West Indies follow on, after dismissing them for a first innings total of 285. Strauss instead chose to bat again. Was he right? England's bowlers were on a roll, there was enough time in the day to take another couple of West Indies wickets, and possibly pile on the pressure for day three. They could have knocked the West Indies all out for an innings defeat, or leaving a meagre total to chase in England's second innings.
But: Flintoff had picked up an injury. Harmison had been unwell all day. In fact the whole team had toiled admirably in the hot sun all day, and would have to do so again indefinitely the next day. Batting again, the West Indies could have posted a total some 200/250 ahead of England, leaving Strauss's men a difficult run chase and the danger of losing. And bearing in mind the last match's 51...
So for my money, it seems in hindsight that not enforcing the follow on was the right choice. By leading England out to bat again, Strauss ensured that England eventually put themselves in an unassailable position - 500 runs ahead. But one or two points stick with how he got there.
The second decision in sending James Anderson out as a nightwatchman at the end of day three was too defensive. We weren't protecting a lead because every run gained was an extra piece of the target for West Indies to have to chase, so a lower order nightwatchman was a hindrance as Anderson slowed things down - especially on the morning of day four - in Strauss's quest to reach a 500+ lead. Thirdly, there are question marks over the need to have that high a lead anyway. By giving the West Indies 450 or so to think about, a carrot dangling so to speak, they may have been inclined to go for their shots, take risks, and be more likely to go out. Did Strauss effectively price Windies out of the game to England's cost? Was he too worried about losing?
Well, really the answer is no. The Windies reached 380 - not all out, either - when trying not to take risks and score lots of runs. The ground, small and uneven, is notorious for having big run-scoring records broken on it. A lead of anything less than 500 would have been less of a carrot dangling, and more on a plate: England bowled 128 overs defending 503, and even then the West Indies only needed to score 4 an over to win against that lead. If they'd have been actually trying to score runs to win rather than avoid defeat, and especially if that target had been sub-500, who would have bet against the Windies getting there?
So we've established that Strauss's decision not to enforce the follow on was correct, the decision to declare with a 500+ lead was sensible, even if putting out Anderson slowed up the scoring. Why, then, did England not win?
There's a case to be made for the weather. England lost 75 minutes bowling time to rain, and bearing in mind England spent about 35 minutes trying to get the last wicket, it would be safe to say that with an extra 75 minutes that task would have been achieved. Of course, that is too simplistic because in the morning both Chanderpaul and Sarwan were at the crease, so it was they who would have taken up the minutes. but who's to say we'd not have rattled through them before tea, if it hadn't been for the rain?
Ifs, buts, maybes. The real truth of the matter, and the central point to this roundabout defence of Andrew Strauss, is that he is captain of a side that is not as good as it was two, three, four years ago - bowling especially. Anderson and Harmison shared just four of the 19 West Indies wickets to fall - Harmison in particular looked sluggish, bowling short and erratically for the most part. Swann is a virtual beginner in Test cricket, bowling in just his third ever Test - and he was England's keynote spinner. Broad, so useful in the second innings, remains expensive, and is only just beginning to show signs of maturing into a consistent world class bowler. Flintoff was the man to make things happen with the ball, but is short of full fitness and hasn't made a noteworthy score with the bat since returning from injury.
On the subject of batting, Pietersen's oddly subdued innings, Cook's two unconverted 50s, Owais Shah's uneventful debut and Collingwood's place-saving (career-saving?) century all went unnoticed in the excitement. No real complaints but overall, England were taught a lesson in Antigua on how to bat in the face of adversity, how to apply oneself to the task in hand and contribute to a match-saving team effort.
Cometh the hour, it was cometh the West Indies performers. England have got positives to build upon - I remain convinced that this match would have been an England victory but for the rain delay - but Strauss has got to ensure his troops are rallied, confident and prepared to win in the 4th Test.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Tweet, to who? It doesn't matter
Though Facebook was celebrating its fifth birthday this month with its 150m users, the party has been overshadowed by the spiralling stock of a rival social media platform. ‘Suddenly, it seems as though all the world’s a-twitter’, goes one of the social networking site’s snippet-like reviews. That might have been considered a premature verdict to... Read more
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Transfer window of opportunity disappoints
No takeovers, no £100m Kaka, no Robinho-style steal, no big names: 2008/2009's January transfer window was a shadow of the start of season sales. The obvious pick out of this lacklustre window is the farcical 'Robbie Keane returns to Spurs' story, the Irish whinger making a south-bound trip down the road he'd taken North only six months before to follow his 'boyhood dream' move to Liverpool. Farcical because it went against Rafa Benitez's continued assertions that Keane would continue to be a Liverpool player - though I doubt he was really as sincere as his words suggested - and farcical because the player's desire to fight for a place at Liverpool was clearly inhibited by his ego, and his desire not to sit on the bench at a top three club. Keane scored seven goals in around 28 appearances, which, given his proven pedigree in the Premiership, wasn't really good enough.
It obviously takes a player a while to settle at a new club, but Keane is nearly 30, a well-travelled and expensive forward (some £71m has been spent on the man in his career), a potent goalscorer with international experience, who did have plenty of starts for Liverpool. 28 appearances does not equate to limited chances - as Andy Gray would say, it only takes a second to score a goal. Liverpool find themselves second in the league, and in the Champions League knockout stages. It's not as if they haven't been winning games, and ergo scoring goals. He might not have played 90 minutes every time, but with Keane's experience, you could forgive Benitez for having expected a better return.
The third farcical point is Liverpool's title challenge. In Torres they have perhaps the most deadly forward in the league, but he hasn't been properly fit all season, and now has to carry the weight of the team's attack on his shoulders for the remainder. Support can come from Babel, N'Gog and El Zhar, but that's all they will be, support. Benitez maybe would have wanted to prove a point by allowing Keane to go, but he hasn't done himself any long-term favours by letting him do so with half an hour to find a replacement.
The only other major transfer of the window - Andrei Arshavin's incredibly protracted, probably dodgy, we'll turn a blind eye anyway switch to Arsenal - was verging on farce too. For 31 days, Arshavin wasn't, to paraphrase most football pundits, 'the sort of player Arsenal needed'. Then panic sets in hours before the window was shutting, and suddenly Arshavin is the player Arsenal cannot afford to miss out on, lest they fail to qualify for the Champions League. More pressing for Arsenal had surely been a holding midfielder in the Flamini role, which would allow Nasri and the returning Rosicky more freedom, and the inconsistent Diaby, Denilson and Song chance to improve. Arshavin is not going to score 15 goals coming from midfield, even though he will likely be given a totally free role behind one of Van Persie or Adebayor. Obviously the lad is top class, but his is a signing that needed to be made in August, not now, and one world class signing with four short months to make an impact might not be enough to give an inconsistent Arsenal side the necessary boost they need.
Returning to Spurs (like a certain Irishman), Tottenham continued this month's 'variations on a theme' transfer policy: the theme being ex-players, the variations being Keane, Pascal Chimbonda and Jermaine Defoe. Rumours that Ossie Ardiles and Jurgen Klinsmann were returning to White Hart Lane proved to be unfounded. Harry Redknapp, for all his transfer guile and experience, has never been in a position where resources are plentiful and the club is genuinely attractive, and Spurs were the busiest signing club in the window. After also capturing Wilson Palacios from Wigan, they had only spent a million or two less than billionnaires Man City, but Redknapp has got to do more with his usual wheeling and dealing than simply save Spurs from relegation. A top half finish is imperative now, given how close the table has been this season, but Redknapp will not have any excuses come the end of the season should they fail to head significantly upwards.
For most of the other clubs in the UK engaging in transfer activity, the credit crunch had a major impact on their plans. Outside of the Premier League, most clubs could only loan players to each other, with the occasional five or six-figure fee being splashed by a Championship team. Even Chelsea, so often the funds behind a merry-go-round of transfers, were restricted to a loan signing of the quality but inconsistent Ricardo Quaresma.
It seemed a case of two approaches in the Premier League. Spurs, Man City, Wigan and Arsenal, and to a lesser extent Hull, Pompey and Stoke, took the 'spending money to make money' path i.e. the monetary reward of staying in or succeeding in the Premiership. But for many other clubs including Blackburn, Sunderland and Middlesborough, it was more a case of keeping hold of assets already at the club - Roque Santa Cruz, Kenwyne Jones and Stewart Downing respectively - to aid their bid for survival or glory. Even in the multi-billion pound football industry, caution seemed the watchword.
But despite the economic climate and most clubs' lack of funds or willingness to break the bank, it was nevertheless a record January spend for the British transfer window: some £160m went on new players. However, for the incredible combined price paid, it will be interesting to see whether the rest of the Premier League season delivers its money's worth.
It obviously takes a player a while to settle at a new club, but Keane is nearly 30, a well-travelled and expensive forward (some £71m has been spent on the man in his career), a potent goalscorer with international experience, who did have plenty of starts for Liverpool. 28 appearances does not equate to limited chances - as Andy Gray would say, it only takes a second to score a goal. Liverpool find themselves second in the league, and in the Champions League knockout stages. It's not as if they haven't been winning games, and ergo scoring goals. He might not have played 90 minutes every time, but with Keane's experience, you could forgive Benitez for having expected a better return.
The third farcical point is Liverpool's title challenge. In Torres they have perhaps the most deadly forward in the league, but he hasn't been properly fit all season, and now has to carry the weight of the team's attack on his shoulders for the remainder. Support can come from Babel, N'Gog and El Zhar, but that's all they will be, support. Benitez maybe would have wanted to prove a point by allowing Keane to go, but he hasn't done himself any long-term favours by letting him do so with half an hour to find a replacement.
The only other major transfer of the window - Andrei Arshavin's incredibly protracted, probably dodgy, we'll turn a blind eye anyway switch to Arsenal - was verging on farce too. For 31 days, Arshavin wasn't, to paraphrase most football pundits, 'the sort of player Arsenal needed'. Then panic sets in hours before the window was shutting, and suddenly Arshavin is the player Arsenal cannot afford to miss out on, lest they fail to qualify for the Champions League. More pressing for Arsenal had surely been a holding midfielder in the Flamini role, which would allow Nasri and the returning Rosicky more freedom, and the inconsistent Diaby, Denilson and Song chance to improve. Arshavin is not going to score 15 goals coming from midfield, even though he will likely be given a totally free role behind one of Van Persie or Adebayor. Obviously the lad is top class, but his is a signing that needed to be made in August, not now, and one world class signing with four short months to make an impact might not be enough to give an inconsistent Arsenal side the necessary boost they need.
Returning to Spurs (like a certain Irishman), Tottenham continued this month's 'variations on a theme' transfer policy: the theme being ex-players, the variations being Keane, Pascal Chimbonda and Jermaine Defoe. Rumours that Ossie Ardiles and Jurgen Klinsmann were returning to White Hart Lane proved to be unfounded. Harry Redknapp, for all his transfer guile and experience, has never been in a position where resources are plentiful and the club is genuinely attractive, and Spurs were the busiest signing club in the window. After also capturing Wilson Palacios from Wigan, they had only spent a million or two less than billionnaires Man City, but Redknapp has got to do more with his usual wheeling and dealing than simply save Spurs from relegation. A top half finish is imperative now, given how close the table has been this season, but Redknapp will not have any excuses come the end of the season should they fail to head significantly upwards.
For most of the other clubs in the UK engaging in transfer activity, the credit crunch had a major impact on their plans. Outside of the Premier League, most clubs could only loan players to each other, with the occasional five or six-figure fee being splashed by a Championship team. Even Chelsea, so often the funds behind a merry-go-round of transfers, were restricted to a loan signing of the quality but inconsistent Ricardo Quaresma.
It seemed a case of two approaches in the Premier League. Spurs, Man City, Wigan and Arsenal, and to a lesser extent Hull, Pompey and Stoke, took the 'spending money to make money' path i.e. the monetary reward of staying in or succeeding in the Premiership. But for many other clubs including Blackburn, Sunderland and Middlesborough, it was more a case of keeping hold of assets already at the club - Roque Santa Cruz, Kenwyne Jones and Stewart Downing respectively - to aid their bid for survival or glory. Even in the multi-billion pound football industry, caution seemed the watchword.
But despite the economic climate and most clubs' lack of funds or willingness to break the bank, it was nevertheless a record January spend for the British transfer window: some £160m went on new players. However, for the incredible combined price paid, it will be interesting to see whether the rest of the Premier League season delivers its money's worth.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Kaka deal falls through, sun shines but hay is not made
The most expensive and lucrative job switch in the history of football (if not history of anything, ever) collapsed yesterday as Brazilian star Kaka decided against a move from AC Milan to Manchester City, turning down the chance to be come the sport's first three-figure million pound player and a wage of around half a million pounds a week.
That anyone can turn down that amount of money, for whatever reasons, is in itself a commendably brave rejection. Just a month's wages could set his family up for life, two months' pay would virtually save the UK economy in a single shopping spree. True, Kaka already commands a wage of around £100,000 a week at AC Milan, but while cynics would suggest anyone earning that much doesn't need a pay rise, not many people would ignore an opportunity to increase their wage by 500%. Imagine someone who happily earns £50k a year, and is offered the same job for a new company at £250k. Why turn it down purely because the current situation is comfortable? Make hay while the sun shines, and all that.
But the truth lies deeper than money. Kaka is the shining light of an imbalanced, ageing AC Milan team past their dominant glory years, and, though they're rebuilding slowly (and with Yohan Gourcruff still on their books, ominously so), a rejuvenated, new look Milan is far from ready to challenge seriously in their domestic league, never mind Europe. While the sale of Kaka made business sense, it would have been almost sporting suicide: not least because the backlash from the Italian media and the Rossoneri would have almost certainly lead to the notoriously violent and sometimes fatal scenes Italy's football supporters are well-versed in.
Depending on where you read, Kaka may or may not have been open to the idea of a move to Manchester City. Stories emerging today point to the steady influence of his father, who City's representatives talked with, and the stumbling block posed by AC Milan's apparently slow conduct in the transfer negotiations, as the reasons behind the failed move. It is also likely that a media furore about the sheer scale of the transfer got in the way of the hard facts over the last few days. But whatever the reasons for the deal's ultimate collapse, a quiet sigh of relief at the sport just about extracting itself from madness has probably been breathed all over the world (bar the City of Manchester stadium). I don't think the world of football is quite ready for the first £100m pound player.
Not yet.
That anyone can turn down that amount of money, for whatever reasons, is in itself a commendably brave rejection. Just a month's wages could set his family up for life, two months' pay would virtually save the UK economy in a single shopping spree. True, Kaka already commands a wage of around £100,000 a week at AC Milan, but while cynics would suggest anyone earning that much doesn't need a pay rise, not many people would ignore an opportunity to increase their wage by 500%. Imagine someone who happily earns £50k a year, and is offered the same job for a new company at £250k. Why turn it down purely because the current situation is comfortable? Make hay while the sun shines, and all that.
But the truth lies deeper than money. Kaka is the shining light of an imbalanced, ageing AC Milan team past their dominant glory years, and, though they're rebuilding slowly (and with Yohan Gourcruff still on their books, ominously so), a rejuvenated, new look Milan is far from ready to challenge seriously in their domestic league, never mind Europe. While the sale of Kaka made business sense, it would have been almost sporting suicide: not least because the backlash from the Italian media and the Rossoneri would have almost certainly lead to the notoriously violent and sometimes fatal scenes Italy's football supporters are well-versed in.
Depending on where you read, Kaka may or may not have been open to the idea of a move to Manchester City. Stories emerging today point to the steady influence of his father, who City's representatives talked with, and the stumbling block posed by AC Milan's apparently slow conduct in the transfer negotiations, as the reasons behind the failed move. It is also likely that a media furore about the sheer scale of the transfer got in the way of the hard facts over the last few days. But whatever the reasons for the deal's ultimate collapse, a quiet sigh of relief at the sport just about extracting itself from madness has probably been breathed all over the world (bar the City of Manchester stadium). I don't think the world of football is quite ready for the first £100m pound player.
Not yet.
Monday, December 22, 2008
My Year in Lists: Tim's absolutely definitive Albums of 2008
All right, this isn't the most defining list of 2008 music-wise, it is in fact a shortlist of albums I've acquired this year. But then, I wouldn't have got them without liking them, or if they were free, certainly not put them into an end-of-year list, so I've narrowed down this year's CDs into my top 25. Any similarities between my lists and others such as polls on God is in the TV Zine, The Guardian's website or even The Sun's (I wouldn't link...oh ok) are purely coincidental and only highlight how universal, eclectic and frankly spot on my music taste is. (My tongue is planted in my cheek as I write).
In January I predicted a few names of which most have made it into my albums list. Debuts as well, so they were hunches. Just pointing it out, y'know.
Haha. Anyway, the list (blog title comes from a Los Campesinos! song, they're at number 12). Without further ado, here it is:
1. Cats in Paris - Courtcase 2000
Frankly, this came out of nowhere. Back in August someone recommended them and linked to their MySpace and it was love at first listen. A Manchester four-piece, but one with the ideas, enthusiasm, quirks and guts to shame every band that ever stepped out of that city since The Smiths. An abundance of youthful creativity, Courtcase 2000 is a masterclass of micro-prog, songs squeezing a kaleidoscope of sounds and melodies, rhythms and instruments into four or five minute mini-operas, rich in vocals that whisper and shout, time signatures that take on a mind of their own, gorgeous string arrangements framing a tragic story of 'broken kittens', random instrumentals with French monologues over the top, bombastic chords that open 'lovelovelovelove', merry-go-round synths chortling to 'loose tooth tactile', perhaps the song of the year. It's almost twee, but it's so gloriously unhinged in its experimental, free flowing river of musical creativity that it deserves to remain undefined. Every British debut for the next five years should be measured against the sheer brilliance of Courtcase 2000, my album of 2008.
Listen to: Loose Tooth Tactile
2. MGMT – Oracular Spectacular
You can gauge much about this stunning debut from the cover. Its proprietors stand on a sunset beach awash with psychedelia in their get up of spangly scarves, bright trousers, make-up and wild hair. Indie-by-numbers this ain’t. Summer anthem ‘Time to Pretend’ kicks off proceedings, but as a benchmark is outdone by many of the album’s tracks – particularly the unbelievably gorgeous 'Of Moons Birds and Monsters' – which hurl together an American ‘60s guitar sound with modern woozy synths, snippets of playground chatter with haunting vocals, discofloor beats and progressive song structures with hazy choruses: above all astonishingly melodic and sparkling with ingenuity. A close listen reveals grimmer lyrical matter ('We’ll choke on our vomit, and that will be the end' anyone?) but such a mood is painted over by the cinematic colour of MGMT’s music, and supplants everything with a virtually unmatched-in-2008 sense of eclectic beauty.
Listen to: The Youth
3. The Mars Volta - The Bedlam in Goliath
Well documented are former ATD-I members Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's dabbling in 'creative substances', but though such antics are now assumed to be fewer and far-between, there must be something unusual keeping the latter, in particular, going, because the driving force of this band keeps surpassing each ground-breaking LP with another. Not quite a year and a half since third album 'Amputechture', 'The Bedlam in Goliath' was a tour de force of blistering drums - thanks to incredible new sticksman Thomas Pridgen - polyphonic rhythms, free jazz style solos as well as maze-like layers of guitars, more extreme bludgeoning than before, all doused in Omar's trademark effects and topped with the ever-impressive vocal range of Cedric. After suffering (lazy) criticism for their meandering jams passed off as songs on previous works, 'The Bedlam in Goliath' tied up some of those loose ends and pooled the myriad ideas, sounds and influences into tight, progressive behemoths that heralded The Mars Volta's most exciting album since their landmark debut.
Listen to: Wax Simulacra
4. Foals - Antidotes
Although they were bordering on the precipice last year, the Dave Sitek-produced Antidotes blew this Oxford fivesome out of the water and into the arms of the waiting press to critical acclaim, indie club hits and storming live shows. A collection of icy, minimalist indie with endless delayed guitar lines that gently melted into the subconscious, packing enough of an electro edge to get the body moving and the energy levels kicking into gear. Singles such as 'Cassius' (this year's 'Helicopter'), 'Vessels' and 'Balloons' were all shining examples of the meticulously angular melodies and rhythms abounding on the album, softened with the occasional brass moment and impassioned cry. A wonderfully crisp and refreshing reinvention of an increasingly derivative genre.
Listen to: Cassius
5. We are the Physics - Are OK at Music
The fourth debut (of 13) in my list, and without doubt the most underground. And also, one of the most exciting. The Scottish group of Michael, Michael, Michael and a Chris created one of the best 'rock' albums of the year. 11 tracks of breakneck speed drums, off-kilter guitar hooks and stuttering vocal yelps, crashing and bouncing around with a schizophrenic energy that is all but out of control. Brilliantly deranged but measured with recognisable riffs and shouted choruses - if your benchmark for rock is Oasis, and things are getting edgy when you put on The Enemy, then you won't know what the fuck has hit you here.
Listen to: You Can Do Athletics btw
6. Operator Please - Yes Yes Vindictive
This one's a bit biased since they absolutely blew me away supporting The Go! Team in Bournemouth last October (2007). Not one of them were out of their teens at the time, and when Yes Yes Vindictive was released in March, they were still very, very young. In fact I went and got drunk with three of them in July when they played at sixtymillionpostcards in Bournemouth, and two of them weren't even old enough to be in clubs. Jeez. Anyway, the album is a gloriously youthful collection of perfect pop rock songs, no false pretences about emotion, scenes, sounds or styles. From the hammering indiepop of 'Leave It Alone' and 'Zero Zero' to the mature waltzing of '6/8', this was a jaw-droppingly accomplished debut from five Aussie kids. More hooks than a fishing equipment store, this 'baroque pop' album (the violin probably exaggerates this categorisation) was near-perfection in genre-crossing anthemic pop songs.
Listen to: Zero Zero
7. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
Originally this didn't make my list, a) because it was just so obvious and b) because I came to it late. But when Mojo and Uncut magazines are making it their album of the year, and it simultaneously features in The Sun's top five, it's also obvious that omitting the sheer beauty of Fleet Foxes' self-titled debut would be a travesty. A cut of haunting close harmonies throwing back to a retro Americana, glinting over jangly guitar backdrops and bittersweet folk atmospherics, with the occasional sunburst in 'Ragged Wood' and 'Your Protector', Fleet Foxes might turn out to be a landmark album in contemporary American music. That it encapsulates a past American age, turning those influences into a gorgeous modern pop album promising much for the future goes to show how deserved these Foxes' acclaim has been.
Listen to: White Winter Hymnal
8. Vampire Weekend – Vampire Weekend
A lot has been possible in pop music recently, but almost everyone was taken aback by this quartet’s direct fusion of modern African influences (rhythm, percussion) with sparse guitars that consequently stormed the music industry. Switched-on nightspots have been plying an ever-increasing spectrum of listeners with singles ‘Oxford Comma’, ‘A Punk’ and ‘Mansard Roof’ for months now, and the universal appeal of this charming if erratic-sounding debut, as well as its knack for upbeat chorus hooks, means it has been strolling into best of lists everywhere.
Listen to: Oxford Comma
9. TV on the Radio - Dear Science
Three albums in, and it's no less of a struggle for Dave Sitek's main musical outlet - the brilliantly eclectic five-piece that is TV On The Radio. That Dear Science topped Guardian and GIITTV polls, featured in music publication lists everywhere and featured on TV spots does not mean that you can now stop an average Joe in the street and say "Do you think Dear Science is better than Return to Cookie Mountain?" However, TV On The Radio are anything but average Joes - they stir in the pop funk of, say, Gnarls Barkley with black soul, big beats with balladry and hazy electro, making for a thoroughly modern eclecticism that also contained their best choruses yet. It might have been a weird chemistry for some, but Dear Science had more than enough about it to hit that niche spot in everyone's music taste. Probably a nailed-on certainty for next year's Mercury Music Prize.
Listen to: Halfway Home
10=. Late of the Pier - Fantasy Black Channel
With the exception of We Are The Physics, perhaps, Late Of The Pier deserve plaudits for the freshest sound this year, a young band going about the matter of dismantling recognised genres by making a boisterous racket of synth, guitar and big beat madness that somehow fits the bill of quirky glam rock, bluesy grunge and electro punk. This is the debut that Klaxons should have made, but failed. It figures that Late Of The Pier should win next year's Mercury... but won't. Shame. Approaching the making music process with a similarly eccentric enthusiasm as Cats in Paris, Fantasy Black Channel was an utterly beguiling album, challenging but emphatically rewarding.
Listen to: Focker
10=. Black Kids - Partie Traumatic
Infectious party spirit, kooky lyrics and all-singing, all-dancing impishness. Partie Traumatic was in fact a bit of a disappointment, as the majority of tracks didn't stand up to the ghostly awesomeness of their Wizard of Aahs EP. However, Black Kids make it in my top 10 purely because said EP was about the best thing anyone anywhere in the world had heard as 2008 was born, and the fact that all four originals from it make the hairs on my neck stand up without fail. Had they not rushed the album and given their sound an unnecessary sheen (thanks Bernard Butler) it might have just been sitting nine places higher.
Listen to: Hit The Heartbreaks
12. Los Campesinos! - Hold On Now, Youngster
The internet's success story of 2007, this debut managed to deliver their early potential with a squeaky guitar-topped mesh of exuberant indiepop with wonderfully quaint lyrics, bouncy feelgood rhythms and a glockenspiel.
13. Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
You won't find another album this year as grandiose, heartfelt and shatteringly intimate in equal measures. A deserved Mercury winner, its rich textures and orchestral arrangements underpinning Guy Garvey's rasping soul is a stunner.
14. Bloc Party - Intimacy
Snuck out on the quiet, Intimacy hit the download stores almost before anyone knew, nevermind pirated a leak. A fusion of samples, drum 'n' bass and heavily-affected guitars, the tangled complexity of Intimacy eventually unravelled into some typically pioneering Bloc Party songs and the odd indie monster. That elusive 'Helicopter 2' still hangs over their head, though. And 'Talons' is not it.
15. The Long Blondes - Couples
Sadly this band are no more, although they might be on a mere hiatus. It's a shame, because Couples was the intimate loneliness of the post-one night stand bed to the dolled-up glam of the pull on 'Someone To Drive You Home'. It was as if that debut's insecurities had manifested into bitterness, with Couples being an LP of starkly cold indie guitars and an icy Kate Jackson on vocals. Hoping for a reunion in 2009.
16. R.E.M - Accelerate
A stonking return to form for one of the seminal artists of the last 20 years, Accelerate saw the three 'boys' thrash out a series of hard-rocking songs peppered with that stinging trademark R.E.M balladry - with renewed political vigour and some hot riffs, R.E.M showed they can still cut it in music today.
17. iForward, Russia! - Life Processes
Their debut was my album of the year 2006, and Life Processes saw much of the same intoxicating mix - playing with time-signatures, wailing vocals and spikey, growling guitars with snatches of searing melodies interspersed with the odd choir and synth. Unfortunately this group are also on a hiatus (damn it!) but their influence in the Midlands music scene will continue to be keenly felt into 2009.
18. Coldplay - Viva La Vida (or Death and All His Friends)
All credit to Chris Martin's troupe, who could have banked on shifting 50bn units with another album of lighters-aloft ballads a la Fix You and coffee table rock like In My Place that would be great for six tracks and then go flat. But they didn't, they returned with an album full of dark edges, perplexing mini-songs, fanfare-march singles and in short a brave new set of songs.
19. Young Knives - Superabundance
After the angular and brilliant debut, the trio of Knives returned with a much more accessible but equally infectious bunch of awkward hooks and brash harmonies, stomping rock songs with more meat than previous efforts. Lyrics were slightly repetitve but gave up anthemic indie choruses in, ahem, abundance.
20. Glasvegas - Glasvegas
The paradox of this band's name, alluding to the glamour and glitz of Vegas, is tapered by the gloom of every single song on this eponymous debut, the perma-sad Scots dishing up a sumptious helping of wall-of-sound meloncholy, lucious guitar layers of fierce emotion that had all who came across it wiping tears from their eyes and reminding loved ones that they are loved.
21. Guillemots - Red
It was always going to be difficult to match the patchwork-quilted genius of their near-miraculous debut, but Fyfe Dangerfield and co. gave it a good go. Just lacking in that multi-coloured spark that made Through the Windowpane such a joy, Red instead saw Guillemots dabble in straightforward pop songs, creating a wealth of gems that seemed to reference a catalogue of pop supremacy in 11 tracks of shimmering melodies and 21st century instrumentation.
22. Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles
From performances at Reading Festival to appearing on Skins, Crystal Castles came to usher in during 2008 the glitchy electronica that was ok for those outside of the dance market to embrace to its bosom, paving the way for a truckload of soundalikes (or soundabitlikes at least) to follow in their footsteps. Alice Glass's disturbed vocals over sometimes hypnotic, sometimes explosive dancefloor ravers soundtracked a year in off-kilter dance music that threw off the shackles of genre wars and made glo-sticks cool again. Again.
23. The Spinto Band - Moonwink
Following up their twee gem of 2006, the Spintos returned with an album rich in squeaky-clean indie musicality; that is harmonies, chord progressions, retro references: little nuances that are missing from many of today's bands' songwriting. It all makes for very pleasant, if sickly sweet, listening.
24. Fucked Up - Chemistry of Common Life
A hardcore punk band with a pointlessly vile name? That's almost as far removed as you can get from my usual listening tastes, but Fucked Up's wall-of-noise guitars, snarling spirit and pounding drums took punk to credible new planes in 2008, channeling aggression into huge riffs and chords, vitriolic smites at religion, and the occasional stadium-rock anthem thrown in. A superb, if abrasive, album of wholly renewed punk ethics.
25. Santogold - Santogold
I already know that this album is better than six or seven of the above. The trouble is I bought it yesterday and as such it's only fair that less than 24 hours of judgement does not cloud a list that spans consideration of the prior 364 days as well. A sparkling fusion of tribal, pop and world influences, Santogold's eponymous first album of eclectic pop gems throws a huge guantlet down for all solo females in 2009 (especially you Little Boots) to step up to.
If you've made it down here, well done. I love you. Thank you for reading, and if you buy one album this week, make it Cats in Paris - Courtcase 2000 please! Thank you again.
In January I predicted a few names of which most have made it into my albums list. Debuts as well, so they were hunches. Just pointing it out, y'know.
Haha. Anyway, the list (blog title comes from a Los Campesinos! song, they're at number 12). Without further ado, here it is:
1. Cats in Paris - Courtcase 2000
Frankly, this came out of nowhere. Back in August someone recommended them and linked to their MySpace and it was love at first listen. A Manchester four-piece, but one with the ideas, enthusiasm, quirks and guts to shame every band that ever stepped out of that city since The Smiths. An abundance of youthful creativity, Courtcase 2000 is a masterclass of micro-prog, songs squeezing a kaleidoscope of sounds and melodies, rhythms and instruments into four or five minute mini-operas, rich in vocals that whisper and shout, time signatures that take on a mind of their own, gorgeous string arrangements framing a tragic story of 'broken kittens', random instrumentals with French monologues over the top, bombastic chords that open 'lovelovelovelove', merry-go-round synths chortling to 'loose tooth tactile', perhaps the song of the year. It's almost twee, but it's so gloriously unhinged in its experimental, free flowing river of musical creativity that it deserves to remain undefined. Every British debut for the next five years should be measured against the sheer brilliance of Courtcase 2000, my album of 2008.
Listen to: Loose Tooth Tactile
2. MGMT – Oracular Spectacular
You can gauge much about this stunning debut from the cover. Its proprietors stand on a sunset beach awash with psychedelia in their get up of spangly scarves, bright trousers, make-up and wild hair. Indie-by-numbers this ain’t. Summer anthem ‘Time to Pretend’ kicks off proceedings, but as a benchmark is outdone by many of the album’s tracks – particularly the unbelievably gorgeous 'Of Moons Birds and Monsters' – which hurl together an American ‘60s guitar sound with modern woozy synths, snippets of playground chatter with haunting vocals, discofloor beats and progressive song structures with hazy choruses: above all astonishingly melodic and sparkling with ingenuity. A close listen reveals grimmer lyrical matter ('We’ll choke on our vomit, and that will be the end' anyone?) but such a mood is painted over by the cinematic colour of MGMT’s music, and supplants everything with a virtually unmatched-in-2008 sense of eclectic beauty.
Listen to: The Youth
3. The Mars Volta - The Bedlam in Goliath
Well documented are former ATD-I members Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez's dabbling in 'creative substances', but though such antics are now assumed to be fewer and far-between, there must be something unusual keeping the latter, in particular, going, because the driving force of this band keeps surpassing each ground-breaking LP with another. Not quite a year and a half since third album 'Amputechture', 'The Bedlam in Goliath' was a tour de force of blistering drums - thanks to incredible new sticksman Thomas Pridgen - polyphonic rhythms, free jazz style solos as well as maze-like layers of guitars, more extreme bludgeoning than before, all doused in Omar's trademark effects and topped with the ever-impressive vocal range of Cedric. After suffering (lazy) criticism for their meandering jams passed off as songs on previous works, 'The Bedlam in Goliath' tied up some of those loose ends and pooled the myriad ideas, sounds and influences into tight, progressive behemoths that heralded The Mars Volta's most exciting album since their landmark debut.
Listen to: Wax Simulacra
4. Foals - Antidotes
Although they were bordering on the precipice last year, the Dave Sitek-produced Antidotes blew this Oxford fivesome out of the water and into the arms of the waiting press to critical acclaim, indie club hits and storming live shows. A collection of icy, minimalist indie with endless delayed guitar lines that gently melted into the subconscious, packing enough of an electro edge to get the body moving and the energy levels kicking into gear. Singles such as 'Cassius' (this year's 'Helicopter'), 'Vessels' and 'Balloons' were all shining examples of the meticulously angular melodies and rhythms abounding on the album, softened with the occasional brass moment and impassioned cry. A wonderfully crisp and refreshing reinvention of an increasingly derivative genre.
Listen to: Cassius
5. We are the Physics - Are OK at Music
The fourth debut (of 13) in my list, and without doubt the most underground. And also, one of the most exciting. The Scottish group of Michael, Michael, Michael and a Chris created one of the best 'rock' albums of the year. 11 tracks of breakneck speed drums, off-kilter guitar hooks and stuttering vocal yelps, crashing and bouncing around with a schizophrenic energy that is all but out of control. Brilliantly deranged but measured with recognisable riffs and shouted choruses - if your benchmark for rock is Oasis, and things are getting edgy when you put on The Enemy, then you won't know what the fuck has hit you here.
Listen to: You Can Do Athletics btw
6. Operator Please - Yes Yes Vindictive
This one's a bit biased since they absolutely blew me away supporting The Go! Team in Bournemouth last October (2007). Not one of them were out of their teens at the time, and when Yes Yes Vindictive was released in March, they were still very, very young. In fact I went and got drunk with three of them in July when they played at sixtymillionpostcards in Bournemouth, and two of them weren't even old enough to be in clubs. Jeez. Anyway, the album is a gloriously youthful collection of perfect pop rock songs, no false pretences about emotion, scenes, sounds or styles. From the hammering indiepop of 'Leave It Alone' and 'Zero Zero' to the mature waltzing of '6/8', this was a jaw-droppingly accomplished debut from five Aussie kids. More hooks than a fishing equipment store, this 'baroque pop' album (the violin probably exaggerates this categorisation) was near-perfection in genre-crossing anthemic pop songs.
Listen to: Zero Zero
7. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
Originally this didn't make my list, a) because it was just so obvious and b) because I came to it late. But when Mojo and Uncut magazines are making it their album of the year, and it simultaneously features in The Sun's top five, it's also obvious that omitting the sheer beauty of Fleet Foxes' self-titled debut would be a travesty. A cut of haunting close harmonies throwing back to a retro Americana, glinting over jangly guitar backdrops and bittersweet folk atmospherics, with the occasional sunburst in 'Ragged Wood' and 'Your Protector', Fleet Foxes might turn out to be a landmark album in contemporary American music. That it encapsulates a past American age, turning those influences into a gorgeous modern pop album promising much for the future goes to show how deserved these Foxes' acclaim has been.
Listen to: White Winter Hymnal
8. Vampire Weekend – Vampire Weekend
A lot has been possible in pop music recently, but almost everyone was taken aback by this quartet’s direct fusion of modern African influences (rhythm, percussion) with sparse guitars that consequently stormed the music industry. Switched-on nightspots have been plying an ever-increasing spectrum of listeners with singles ‘Oxford Comma’, ‘A Punk’ and ‘Mansard Roof’ for months now, and the universal appeal of this charming if erratic-sounding debut, as well as its knack for upbeat chorus hooks, means it has been strolling into best of lists everywhere.
Listen to: Oxford Comma
9. TV on the Radio - Dear Science
Three albums in, and it's no less of a struggle for Dave Sitek's main musical outlet - the brilliantly eclectic five-piece that is TV On The Radio. That Dear Science topped Guardian and GIITTV polls, featured in music publication lists everywhere and featured on TV spots does not mean that you can now stop an average Joe in the street and say "Do you think Dear Science is better than Return to Cookie Mountain?" However, TV On The Radio are anything but average Joes - they stir in the pop funk of, say, Gnarls Barkley with black soul, big beats with balladry and hazy electro, making for a thoroughly modern eclecticism that also contained their best choruses yet. It might have been a weird chemistry for some, but Dear Science had more than enough about it to hit that niche spot in everyone's music taste. Probably a nailed-on certainty for next year's Mercury Music Prize.
Listen to: Halfway Home
10=. Late of the Pier - Fantasy Black Channel
With the exception of We Are The Physics, perhaps, Late Of The Pier deserve plaudits for the freshest sound this year, a young band going about the matter of dismantling recognised genres by making a boisterous racket of synth, guitar and big beat madness that somehow fits the bill of quirky glam rock, bluesy grunge and electro punk. This is the debut that Klaxons should have made, but failed. It figures that Late Of The Pier should win next year's Mercury... but won't. Shame. Approaching the making music process with a similarly eccentric enthusiasm as Cats in Paris, Fantasy Black Channel was an utterly beguiling album, challenging but emphatically rewarding.
Listen to: Focker
10=. Black Kids - Partie Traumatic
Infectious party spirit, kooky lyrics and all-singing, all-dancing impishness. Partie Traumatic was in fact a bit of a disappointment, as the majority of tracks didn't stand up to the ghostly awesomeness of their Wizard of Aahs EP. However, Black Kids make it in my top 10 purely because said EP was about the best thing anyone anywhere in the world had heard as 2008 was born, and the fact that all four originals from it make the hairs on my neck stand up without fail. Had they not rushed the album and given their sound an unnecessary sheen (thanks Bernard Butler) it might have just been sitting nine places higher.
Listen to: Hit The Heartbreaks
12. Los Campesinos! - Hold On Now, Youngster
The internet's success story of 2007, this debut managed to deliver their early potential with a squeaky guitar-topped mesh of exuberant indiepop with wonderfully quaint lyrics, bouncy feelgood rhythms and a glockenspiel.
13. Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
You won't find another album this year as grandiose, heartfelt and shatteringly intimate in equal measures. A deserved Mercury winner, its rich textures and orchestral arrangements underpinning Guy Garvey's rasping soul is a stunner.
14. Bloc Party - Intimacy
Snuck out on the quiet, Intimacy hit the download stores almost before anyone knew, nevermind pirated a leak. A fusion of samples, drum 'n' bass and heavily-affected guitars, the tangled complexity of Intimacy eventually unravelled into some typically pioneering Bloc Party songs and the odd indie monster. That elusive 'Helicopter 2' still hangs over their head, though. And 'Talons' is not it.
15. The Long Blondes - Couples
Sadly this band are no more, although they might be on a mere hiatus. It's a shame, because Couples was the intimate loneliness of the post-one night stand bed to the dolled-up glam of the pull on 'Someone To Drive You Home'. It was as if that debut's insecurities had manifested into bitterness, with Couples being an LP of starkly cold indie guitars and an icy Kate Jackson on vocals. Hoping for a reunion in 2009.
16. R.E.M - Accelerate
A stonking return to form for one of the seminal artists of the last 20 years, Accelerate saw the three 'boys' thrash out a series of hard-rocking songs peppered with that stinging trademark R.E.M balladry - with renewed political vigour and some hot riffs, R.E.M showed they can still cut it in music today.
17. iForward, Russia! - Life Processes
Their debut was my album of the year 2006, and Life Processes saw much of the same intoxicating mix - playing with time-signatures, wailing vocals and spikey, growling guitars with snatches of searing melodies interspersed with the odd choir and synth. Unfortunately this group are also on a hiatus (damn it!) but their influence in the Midlands music scene will continue to be keenly felt into 2009.
18. Coldplay - Viva La Vida (or Death and All His Friends)
All credit to Chris Martin's troupe, who could have banked on shifting 50bn units with another album of lighters-aloft ballads a la Fix You and coffee table rock like In My Place that would be great for six tracks and then go flat. But they didn't, they returned with an album full of dark edges, perplexing mini-songs, fanfare-march singles and in short a brave new set of songs.
19. Young Knives - Superabundance
After the angular and brilliant debut, the trio of Knives returned with a much more accessible but equally infectious bunch of awkward hooks and brash harmonies, stomping rock songs with more meat than previous efforts. Lyrics were slightly repetitve but gave up anthemic indie choruses in, ahem, abundance.
20. Glasvegas - Glasvegas
The paradox of this band's name, alluding to the glamour and glitz of Vegas, is tapered by the gloom of every single song on this eponymous debut, the perma-sad Scots dishing up a sumptious helping of wall-of-sound meloncholy, lucious guitar layers of fierce emotion that had all who came across it wiping tears from their eyes and reminding loved ones that they are loved.
21. Guillemots - Red
It was always going to be difficult to match the patchwork-quilted genius of their near-miraculous debut, but Fyfe Dangerfield and co. gave it a good go. Just lacking in that multi-coloured spark that made Through the Windowpane such a joy, Red instead saw Guillemots dabble in straightforward pop songs, creating a wealth of gems that seemed to reference a catalogue of pop supremacy in 11 tracks of shimmering melodies and 21st century instrumentation.
22. Crystal Castles - Crystal Castles
From performances at Reading Festival to appearing on Skins, Crystal Castles came to usher in during 2008 the glitchy electronica that was ok for those outside of the dance market to embrace to its bosom, paving the way for a truckload of soundalikes (or soundabitlikes at least) to follow in their footsteps. Alice Glass's disturbed vocals over sometimes hypnotic, sometimes explosive dancefloor ravers soundtracked a year in off-kilter dance music that threw off the shackles of genre wars and made glo-sticks cool again. Again.
23. The Spinto Band - Moonwink
Following up their twee gem of 2006, the Spintos returned with an album rich in squeaky-clean indie musicality; that is harmonies, chord progressions, retro references: little nuances that are missing from many of today's bands' songwriting. It all makes for very pleasant, if sickly sweet, listening.
24. Fucked Up - Chemistry of Common Life
A hardcore punk band with a pointlessly vile name? That's almost as far removed as you can get from my usual listening tastes, but Fucked Up's wall-of-noise guitars, snarling spirit and pounding drums took punk to credible new planes in 2008, channeling aggression into huge riffs and chords, vitriolic smites at religion, and the occasional stadium-rock anthem thrown in. A superb, if abrasive, album of wholly renewed punk ethics.
25. Santogold - Santogold
I already know that this album is better than six or seven of the above. The trouble is I bought it yesterday and as such it's only fair that less than 24 hours of judgement does not cloud a list that spans consideration of the prior 364 days as well. A sparkling fusion of tribal, pop and world influences, Santogold's eponymous first album of eclectic pop gems throws a huge guantlet down for all solo females in 2009 (especially you Little Boots) to step up to.
If you've made it down here, well done. I love you. Thank you for reading, and if you buy one album this week, make it Cats in Paris - Courtcase 2000 please! Thank you again.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Louis Theroux's Law and Order in...London
The last two Sundays have seen Louis Theroux, another of the BBC's more outstanding figures, doing his documentary thing on Law and Order in two vastly different areas: a notoriously volatile district in Philadelphia, US, and Johannesburg, South Africa, the focus of last week's programme. The latter, particularly, delved into the almost lawless areas outside JBurg, the shanty-town sites Diepsloot, where the terms 'community' and 'mob' became blurred. With little to no law enforcement from the police in place in Diepsloot, self-styled protection firms - privately-run security forces - set themselves up to distribute justice around the area, for an agreed price, by whoever has the money to buy the service.
In the Johannesburg documentary, Theroux repeatedly highlighted the problems Diepsloot experienced without a police presence: where crimes were committed, the private security firms had their own methods with dealing with criminals. Increasingly, however, Theroux saw how villagers would take matters into their own hands, hearing how the 'community' caught and burned a man who had been stealing. 'Community' seemed to be a vague term during the programme - at times it brought a sense of togetherness for the residents, united in their plight on the outskirts of J'burg, ignored by police and riddled with problems. Yet 'Community' also became a term that was used to justify the violent nature of the residents' treatment of criminals. The people Louis Theroux spoke to about the capturing and burning of criminals (which happened more than once while he was out there) simply shrugged it off as part and parcel of the place, a consequence of the lawlessness pervading Diepsloot. They called it "A South African solution to a South African problem".
Theroux's point might have been to highlight the huge difference between gun crime on the homicide-ridden Phily streets to, say, London or Birmingham, and the sheer violence of the out-of-control Diepsloot to our policed towns in Britain, but today saw a damning case of a 'mob mindset' (eloquence as ever from The Sun) within this country that is little short than the South African examples.
BBC's take is slightly calmer, but both sources make reference to the evidence that Mr Cunningham was killed by a group of people, stabbed and mutilated by the 'vigilantes' in return for his history of sexual offences, possibly some more recent. Mr Cunningham had recently been removed from the register, however, seven years since the offence that he had been place on it for, and had not been arrested for any related offences since 2003. But The Sun in particular highlights that Mr Cunningham's death was most likely to be a result of something that had happened recently.
The point in this instance isn't whether the paedophile deserved to die or not for what he did, and may have done. It's the manner in which more than one person appears to have murdered Mr Cunningham in a case of citizen justice that equates to mob behaviour. The UK prides itself on being one of the most forward-thinking and advanced democracies in the West, nevermind in the world, but the tribal mindset of those responsible for killing Andrew Cunningham have branded elements of our society as savage as the poverty-striken, crime-filled shanty-town communities in South Africa that Louis Theroux last week claimed were a million miles from our own.
In the Johannesburg documentary, Theroux repeatedly highlighted the problems Diepsloot experienced without a police presence: where crimes were committed, the private security firms had their own methods with dealing with criminals. Increasingly, however, Theroux saw how villagers would take matters into their own hands, hearing how the 'community' caught and burned a man who had been stealing. 'Community' seemed to be a vague term during the programme - at times it brought a sense of togetherness for the residents, united in their plight on the outskirts of J'burg, ignored by police and riddled with problems. Yet 'Community' also became a term that was used to justify the violent nature of the residents' treatment of criminals. The people Louis Theroux spoke to about the capturing and burning of criminals (which happened more than once while he was out there) simply shrugged it off as part and parcel of the place, a consequence of the lawlessness pervading Diepsloot. They called it "A South African solution to a South African problem".
Theroux's point might have been to highlight the huge difference between gun crime on the homicide-ridden Phily streets to, say, London or Birmingham, and the sheer violence of the out-of-control Diepsloot to our policed towns in Britain, but today saw a damning case of a 'mob mindset' (eloquence as ever from The Sun) within this country that is little short than the South African examples.
BBC's take is slightly calmer, but both sources make reference to the evidence that Mr Cunningham was killed by a group of people, stabbed and mutilated by the 'vigilantes' in return for his history of sexual offences, possibly some more recent. Mr Cunningham had recently been removed from the register, however, seven years since the offence that he had been place on it for, and had not been arrested for any related offences since 2003. But The Sun in particular highlights that Mr Cunningham's death was most likely to be a result of something that had happened recently.
The point in this instance isn't whether the paedophile deserved to die or not for what he did, and may have done. It's the manner in which more than one person appears to have murdered Mr Cunningham in a case of citizen justice that equates to mob behaviour. The UK prides itself on being one of the most forward-thinking and advanced democracies in the West, nevermind in the world, but the tribal mindset of those responsible for killing Andrew Cunningham have branded elements of our society as savage as the poverty-striken, crime-filled shanty-town communities in South Africa that Louis Theroux last week claimed were a million miles from our own.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Eurovision in danger of becoming Eurotrash
In another high-profile shuffle at the BBC, this time decided by the figure in question, rather than on their behalf, Terry Wogan has called time on 35 years of Eurovision and stepped aside for a new face - voice - to fill the void.
And it will be a void; Terry Wogan's fantastic commentary on the increasingly-farcical event has become as synonymous with Eurovision for the British public as the obligatory woeful entry we put out. Wogan's subtle but devastating put-downs, tongue-in-cheek xenophobia and stereotyping coupled with his good-natured charm - aided in no small part by the odd glass of wine, you'd imagine - made the competition bearable. Several hours of MOR pop song crap, usually woodenly presented in broken English, peppered with the odd flourish of ingenuity such as Lordi's ludicrous Hard Rock Hallelujah, and the occasional shock of a decent song turning up, somehow became mesmerising as Wogan and the watching audience become more and more amused (and possibly drunk) as international politics come into play, the attention begins to wane and the songs get worse. This is when Wogan is at his best, when respect for the spectacle is lost; becoming more scathing and witty, unrestrained and cheeky in a single-handed bid to keep people watching.
Graham Norton, then, has some big boots to fill. A cheeky chappy himself, his name is nevertheless more synonymous with innuendo, playing to his camp styling and deriving laughter from often crass subject matter. His bouncy enthusiasm and direct interviewing does make him a different prospect on the BBC - granted he's no Parkinson, but then who is - but his show is cut to half an hour, and some of his guests (Dame Edna, Paul O'Grady, Eddie Izzard, Jackie Collins, Joan Rivers, Alan Carr to pick a biased few) seem obvious by any stretch of the imagination.
Norton's switch to the BBC, at an incredibly lucrative price as well, will have done something for his image, as will the BBC's decision to entrust him with his own talkshow, especially one self-styled on the website as "the aspects of celebrity culture that interest him [Norton] most, featuring trademark Norton comedy monologues (????) and celebrity chat". Not quite in line with the BBC's mandate for creative and challenging programming, perhaps. But their decision now to import him into Wogan's vacated seat as the British public's Eurovision Song Contest compere for the evening gives Norton a chance to prove himself.
It's likely to go one of two ways. Either Norton will take the time to write (or get staff writers to produce) a wealth of material, one liners, ironic jibes, comments that showcase his talent for direct critique but with capacity for good-humour, non-serious but funny all the same: a chance for him to really prove his worth. Or it will wind up as trashtalking, Norton getting evermore bemused and high-pitched, spitting out bitter criticism without humour or balance and finally losing the will to try, proving that he lacks the temeperament and skill to really mix it with the top BBC names. One would hope obviously for the former, but such is the lowly level to which the event has descended, a live Graham Norton car crash to soundtrack the madness would almost be fitting for the Contest - the mediocre but watchable Eurovision morphing into throwaway Eurotrash.
And it will be a void; Terry Wogan's fantastic commentary on the increasingly-farcical event has become as synonymous with Eurovision for the British public as the obligatory woeful entry we put out. Wogan's subtle but devastating put-downs, tongue-in-cheek xenophobia and stereotyping coupled with his good-natured charm - aided in no small part by the odd glass of wine, you'd imagine - made the competition bearable. Several hours of MOR pop song crap, usually woodenly presented in broken English, peppered with the odd flourish of ingenuity such as Lordi's ludicrous Hard Rock Hallelujah, and the occasional shock of a decent song turning up, somehow became mesmerising as Wogan and the watching audience become more and more amused (and possibly drunk) as international politics come into play, the attention begins to wane and the songs get worse. This is when Wogan is at his best, when respect for the spectacle is lost; becoming more scathing and witty, unrestrained and cheeky in a single-handed bid to keep people watching.
Graham Norton, then, has some big boots to fill. A cheeky chappy himself, his name is nevertheless more synonymous with innuendo, playing to his camp styling and deriving laughter from often crass subject matter. His bouncy enthusiasm and direct interviewing does make him a different prospect on the BBC - granted he's no Parkinson, but then who is - but his show is cut to half an hour, and some of his guests (Dame Edna, Paul O'Grady, Eddie Izzard, Jackie Collins, Joan Rivers, Alan Carr to pick a biased few) seem obvious by any stretch of the imagination.
Norton's switch to the BBC, at an incredibly lucrative price as well, will have done something for his image, as will the BBC's decision to entrust him with his own talkshow, especially one self-styled on the website as "the aspects of celebrity culture that interest him [Norton] most, featuring trademark Norton comedy monologues (????) and celebrity chat". Not quite in line with the BBC's mandate for creative and challenging programming, perhaps. But their decision now to import him into Wogan's vacated seat as the British public's Eurovision Song Contest compere for the evening gives Norton a chance to prove himself.
It's likely to go one of two ways. Either Norton will take the time to write (or get staff writers to produce) a wealth of material, one liners, ironic jibes, comments that showcase his talent for direct critique but with capacity for good-humour, non-serious but funny all the same: a chance for him to really prove his worth. Or it will wind up as trashtalking, Norton getting evermore bemused and high-pitched, spitting out bitter criticism without humour or balance and finally losing the will to try, proving that he lacks the temeperament and skill to really mix it with the top BBC names. One would hope obviously for the former, but such is the lowly level to which the event has descended, a live Graham Norton car crash to soundtrack the madness would almost be fitting for the Contest - the mediocre but watchable Eurovision morphing into throwaway Eurotrash.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)