Music’s a funny thing. Bloody funny. Bloody stupid too. Here’s 3 examples of music related stupidity that have popped up in less than 24 hours.
Just today I opened the pointless plastic bag surrounding the newspaper supplements and was greeted with the face of Robbie Williams. Oh joy. You see Robbie may have all the money that was “beyond his wildest dreams” and he may be happily married with kids and only need to work 3 days a year (if you call that work), but is he happy? No, he is not. Apparently he really struggles with being in a business that he fears is going to kill him (something’s got to) and he spends all his time being “thin and depressed or fat and ashamed”.
What a cock. It is regrettable that some people with limited taste in music might actually sympathise with poor Robbie’s predicament, but given he’s loaded and has shagged hundreds of women I can’t muster an atom of sympathy. I think he’s a selfish, whining little prick with the mentality of a 14 year old. He’s done nothing for music and before he starts moaning about being thin and depressed he should remember that his mere existence makes me so depressed I want to starve my self to death.
Next up is Whitney Houston. For some reason, possibly wine, ‘the wife’ and I ended up watching a documentary last night about Whitney Houston’s life, with a particular emphasis on how she flushed it down the toilet. As we watched this bright, talented woman turn into a colossal mess I looked up her stats and must say I was astonished. I mean I knew she had been popular but I didn’t realise that at one point she was just about the biggest thing on the planet. Not only did she sell bucket loads of records but some of them weren’t that bad. She had it all in the palm of her hand and then she put that hand down Bobby Brown’s pants and wanked it all away.
The first record I ever bought was ‘My Prerogative’ by Bobby Brown. I’m not proud. Tastes change as you get older and I am pleased to say that mine have changed stratospherically for the better. Houston was clearly totally wrapped up in Mr Brown thought the documentary didn’t really shed enough light on why. He came across as a consummate tosser, claiming to be ‘street’ and a tough guy, which is a hard thing to do when you spend most of your time wearing the sort of glasses that Himmler would have picked out at the opticians. I doubt he was entirely responsible for Whitney’s demise but he certainly didn’t help. As Robbie has already demonstrated Houston’s story is pure cut diamond proof that money cannot buy you happiness.
And we move on to exhibit 3 in the case of ‘G B Hewitt v Stupidity in Music’. I’m sure I’ve read about this before so if this is not news to you then my apologies. I have never taken any time whatsoever to listen to the lyrics of ‘Life’ by Des’ree. That’s because the chorus alone is so bad it’s only a step away from nuclear armageddon. Here are the lyrics for the chorus:
Life, oh life, oh life, oh life,
Doo, doot doot dooo.
Life, oh life, oh life, oh life,
Doo, doot dooo
Profound is not the word. It’s a song that’s so empty of any charm or value I have never stayed awake long enough to listen to the verses. Until this morning in the car. If they’re not the worst lyrics ever written then that’s only because Liam Gallagher is also a ‘songwriter’. Here are the first 3 lines:
I’m afraid of the dark,
‘specially when I’m in a park
And there’s no-one else around,
I think describing that rhyming couplet as ‘lazy and shit’ would be an extremely generous gesture. It also begs the question of why she would want to be in a park, in the dark, with no-one else around. Does anybody do that? And don’t parks get locked at night? What a peculiar woman. If I bumped into her at night in the park and she was singing ‘Life’ I’d be beyond petrified. However those 3 lines are positively Shakespearean compared to the next lot:
Ooh, I get the shivers
I don’t want to see a ghost,
It’s a sight that I fear most
I’d rather have a piece of toast
And watch the evening news
I didn’t want to swear too much today after yesterday’s post, but I hope you’ll join me in saying ‘for fuck’s sake’. If I had written lyrics like that I’d probably have to insist that someone assess me for learning difficulties. Incidentally I’d be delighted to hear from anyone that, in all honesty, would rather see a ghost than eat a piece of toast. It’s a no brainer, but then these lyrics were written by 2 people with literally no brains. Later on Des’ree suggests….
I’ll take you up on a dare,
Name the place, I’ll be there,
Bungee jumping, I don’t care!
It’s a deal, provided I can bring a large pair of scissors. To prevent this kind of musical disaster I propose that some kind of committee is established that, much like the BBFC, classifies songs to give the listener an indication of what they’ve got coming. ‘Life’ by Des’ree would instantly fall into the category of ‘insultingly abysmal, unfit for human ears and may cause suicidal thoughts’. Which brings us nicely full circle back to Robbie Williams. Who is the patron saint of musical stupidity and whose songs would require a special category all of their own – ‘songs that should only be played in prison or North Korea’.
G B Hewitt. 03.09.2017
Ps – ‘Life’ went to number 1 in Austria, Italy and Malawi. Which tells you everything you need to know.