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Every year since 2003 the BBC has climbed down the nations chimney and bestowed upon us the acts which show the most promise in the upcoming year. In the past it has belched out such talents as Mika, Lilly Allen and Franz Ferdinand. In short, by choosing artists with financial and industry backing, its always right. So how does 2010 shape up? Hayden Woolley casts a critical gaze over the musical landscape of the next 12 months.
Just for a change these guys are influenced by……… 80’s electropop. Another self-conciously arty band, the sort which the record-buying public almost never warm to. They seem like the sort of guys who have considerably more photo-shoots than songs, posing as they are in all their hautre-couteur glory . The song is of little importance I suppose, they are a band in the same way that Never Mind the Buzzcocks is ‘a quiz.’ I think its all a ploy, somewhere along the way a major label have their hand up these guys asses, and they’re tickling their prostates until they spunk money everywhere
Sometimes you get these really forward-thinking, talented young musicians who have absolutely zero money producing DIY budget-house that blows other shit out the water. This sounds like it was recorded in a bread bin and its all the better for it. The home-made percussion, the distant woozy vocals, the vintage-vinyl quality. This is great. More please.
Alan Sugar – “Right, I’m giving you lot ten grand to go start a band. I want it a bit of old fashioned razzmatazz, a glitzy affair. You’ll be required to do a PowerPoint presentation of why I should buy your product at 6pm tomorrow in front of a room of record company execs. Nick and Margaret are watching you all the way with this one, I want you to go out and make me some hard earned cash. I don’t care if its soulless shit, just get in the bloody taxi!”
(serves one small appetite)
Take one portion of Postal Service and castrate thoroughly, carefully removing all bones. Dilute with four parts tepid rose water and leave to soak overnight, preferably in front of a clouded window to aid quiet introspection.
In the morning, rouse, ensure subject has developed an affected American whine so rhotic the songs practically spherical, and wipe down with one of those Primary School Kids drawings Teatowels things. You know the ones. Add mandatory Casio noodlings and stir until twee-er than two ragdolls on a houseboat.
Oi, OC - 4 letters - M T F U
Rox is 30% more coffee-table than an entire coffee-table constructed only of Sade CD’s. In fact, if coffee tables were sentient and possessed a taste in music, this is probably what they’d listen to. This is music suitable for divorcees only. Those who can but look up to advertisers and say ‘Please Sir, target my demographic and tell me what to like.’ You may come to recognise her at the rear-end of next years Brit awards nominations. She’s the half-Jamaican half-Iranian one with a soulful voice whose this years Amy Winehouse. OK? Good.
If you’re lucky enough to have a Dad with a well-established beard then he might take you to a real-ale festival. At that real-ale festival you might witness a jovial bunch of musicians who tour around rural pastures playing old-fashioned songs for old-fashioned souls to nod their heads in appreciation to whilst sipping their pint of Bishop’s Todger. With banjo solo’s and bovine-songs, that band are Stornoway. What the fuck they’re doing on this list is anyone’s guess.
I’ve noticed a trend lately in British city centres. Alien architectural forms have been appearing amongst the dirty sandstone Victorian halls and glass and steel redevelopments that make up the 21st century urban centres.
When you’re arriving in Sheffield by train from the North, as you skirt the old steelworks and mills in the basin of Attercliffe, you get a view of the central skyline that has something very out of place about it. Amongst the familiar shapes of the Arts Tower swathed in plastic, the top of the Town Hall, the bright white rectangles of Hallam University, the brick red smudge of the Moorfoot Building and the grey spires of churches, the smooth circular crest of the ferris wheel on Fargate emerges clearly above the mass of the city. This bizarre shape came by itself, but recently the whole centre has periodically found itself filled with fun fair rides, appearing apparently out of nowhere and disappearing just as suddenly.
City centres have always used their public spaces as places for recreation and leisure, but before recently the garish and noisy excitement of the fun fair was never allowed to enter the heart of the city. This trend probably began with the London Eye, but since then almost every city centre in the country has hosted it’s own ‘eye’ for a while, and brought a host of other carnival rides with it, presumably to keep it company. Read more ⇒
In a new act of backwardness and an attempt to reach targets on the amount of litter on the streets, Sheffield City Council have picked an easy, enforceable target: flyers. Handing out flyers in the city centre is now illegal and punishable by fines of up to £2,500. However, it is possible to purchase an annual license granting you the right to distribute on behalf of a particular venue. Starting at £75 for 1 person, and climbing steeply to around £700 for 5 people, these are beyond the reach of all but the largest venues and promoters who will continue to fill the streets with promotions for Vodka Headfuck, Get Twatted!, and our favourite night VomittedKebabinthebackofacabmixedwithcheapvodkaonaprimarkdress shinyshoozecoveredinboozeandpiss. Read more ⇒