Nerd is the Word.

I hope you feel worthless. I hope you feel like your existence is pointless, and that any attempts to achieve anything will be futile, you pitiful human. As a nation, every citizen of the United Kingdom should just call it quits on breathing. Because let’s face it, the most talented inhabitant of this fair isle is…er, a dog.

This is all your fault, Great British Public. Yes, you. Either you voted for a pooch to become the champion of Britain’s Got Talent, or you abstained from the voting process. Which, if we apply the same principle that we do to elections, makes you just as responsible if a bad party comes to power. Pudsey is your Golden Dawn Party.

Forget about all the singers and dancers and acrobats and synchronised swimmers or whatever skills were also showcased in this year’s final. That’s all our talent as a nation apparently amounts to. Entertainment. I highly doubt there was an entrant who displayed to a blithering Amanda Holden their ability to do some particularly cruel quadratic equations, or got a blabbering Alesha Dixon on stage to correct her grammar. Admittedly I didn’t watch the series, but I’m sure I would have heard if the latter actually occurred. I suppose what I’m trying to say is, where the hell are all the nerds!?

Let’s face it. Being a boffin isn’t glamorous. You wouldn’t find academia on a TV talent search because it’s just not entertaining. But this hasn’t stopped television and films from giving nerds a bad name. Intelligence is not necessarily demonised within today’s society, but it’s definitely a means to point and laugh at someone. Television has tried to give nerds a voice. To look at The IT Crowd, we see a pair of IT specialists coping with their day-to-day life. However, I wouldn’t exactly describe them as cool and sophisticated. Moss, the archetypal computer geek, earns his street-cred amongst fellow nerds by winning games of Countdown and sips on a cool glass of milk. Hell, even the slightly-cooler Roy needs ‘Bluffball’, a website giving the language necessary to communicate with real men via the lexicon of football. By trying to create a programme about nerds, instead it just creates a gap between the nerds and the ‘normals’.

There is a show that undoubtedly gives a more clichéd view of the typical intellectual. The Big Bang Theory shows its nerds of choice as sufferers of OCD who have no regard for emotions or liberal arts, Masters students who live with their mothers way into adulthood, unable to speak to girls or, the worst crime of all, lactose-intolerant. So that’s what life has in store for you if you’re particularly good at science. You have no luck with your love-life and to top it off, you can’t eat pizza without a bad case of the toots afterwards.

What we need is a celebration of smart. It’s not fair to ask Brian Cox to take on this burden single-handedly, and I think Tony Stark is a bit busy with avenging some stuff at the moment. All I’m asking is for a rise of intelligent characters who aren’t too busy with upgrading their iOS to talk to the opposite sex to be shoved in the dreaded Friend Zone. Or hell, even a girl who’s able to spout sophisticated philosophy by day and is a complete fox by night. And I want this on primetime slots, goddamnit. So I propose a programme, television companies, if you’re listening. Britain’s Got Smarts. Where people who excel academically can show off to others in a way that’s probably a lot more beneficial to society than looking a dog and going OMG HE JUST DID A THING! DID YOU SEE THAT TRACEY? HE DID A THING LIKE A REAL PERSON! LOLOLOL! I want a girl with a decent haircut on stage coming up with a novel way to learn the difference between ‘its’ and ‘it’s’, or a younger, hotter Dawkins making the theory of evolution fun and exciting. Nerds are people too, and even if we’re not going to make you shout at your screen in glee, our ability to recite poetry or debate whether Marx is still relevant today deserves some form of recognition from reality television without patronising us as hopeless pale-folk. Nerds of the world, do not despair. There’s a place for us somewhere. And by no means are you inferior to a fucking dog.

Here’s a very good song about nerds. Enjoy.

Why International Women’s Day is ideologically unsound.

Ladies, put your bras back on. There’s no need to start a fire. Today is a terrible celebration of so-called female empowerment.

                I will outline now – I am not a feminist. I am not blind in this opinion, I have spent the past six years studying sociology and find the majority of feminist work nothing more than glorified moaning, or tenuous to social issues at best. Yet there are some issues that irk my inner Betty Friedan and get my ovaries all a-tinglin’. International Women’s Day is one of these things.

                Why are we celebrating biology? Is it to send hearty congratulations to all those tenacious sperms with X-chromosomes, who flounced their Y-rivals in a race-against-time swim through the cervix? Um, no, no it’s not. It’s just celebrating the fact that people appreciate and respect women and the equality achieved by those before us. Well done, society.

                Of course, the historical achievements of those fighting for the equality of women throughout history are highly commendable, and I am grateful for everything that my foremothers did to ensure I can live the happy and unrepressed life I do today. However, I feel I celebrate these things every day, I do not take for granted that I can go to university or can choose my profession at will. It is now part of the norm of society, and we are constantly reminded of these things when a woman is accused of heresy if she decides not to vote, as people died for her to be able to.
               
                However, I find it inescapable that today’s celebrations are somewhat condescending. I do not need to celebrate my femininity. I feel today is nothing more than a reification of the patro-normative view of society. In this world, ‘male’ is the normal, the aspired, the alpha. Being female, therefore, is as Simone DeBeauvoir said, the second sex. By celebrating this day of womanhood, we are further widening the gap between ‘male’ and ‘female’. Instead of seeing gender differences as extraneous, this is deepening the dichotomy. What would be a greater step in the advancement of females in society and closer equality would be a sense of nonchalance towards this divide.

                It would be somewhat churlish to dismiss the fact that our genders are socially constructed. Our sex may be biological facts, but what it means to be a ‘woman’ in a modernised Western society is defined by society. We created this difference between male and females, and thus feel it appropriate to reinstate this divide as frequently as possible. Not just today, but in how we dress and act, and in the simplicity of speech. I am not calling for a re-design in the definitions of male and female, all I wish is that we should have no need of furthering this divide by having a day distinguishing one gender as different. We are a society who should co-exist without this reinforcement of our differences. Our equality as people, not as genders, speaks enough unannounced.

EDIT – I’m including the comments I’ve received after posting this on Facebook, as I realise this is quite an inflammatory piece and I’ve been proved wrong in a few places. So really it makes sense to put it on here…. (My comments are in bold)

Alanna: Yeah why think about women..they only die unnecessarily every minute in childbirth. Big deal..let’s just not talk about it

Cal :Agreed Alanna.

Anna: I admit that I’m looking at this from an entirely westernised perspective, and somewhat foolishly neglecting the International aspect. However I am commenting on the presence of IWD on Twitter etc who also seem to ignore that side. Clearly it’s an awareness-raising campaign gone awry.

Ben: Can’t we all just agree that the world is a better place than it was 50 years ago…?

Becky: Hmm interesting point!! But in this case, are you against all days of this nature eg. Gay pride, black history month etc?? Just curious!

Alanna: I think then perhaps your anger has been misdirected, and should be towards the lack of understanding of the day, rather than the day itself.

Karren: I get your point Anna but it is foolish not to acknowledge the obvious differences between men and women. I want to celebrate difference. All difference. That’s not to say I don’t feel equal, I do, slightly better if I’m honest.

Ben: I’m glad you feel superior, Karren.

Anna: Becky – My feelings on this point are undecided, homophobia and racism are much more prominent in today’s society (I feel) than sexism. I think these cases are more worthy, but again, there is a danger of crossing into realms of heteronormativity with Gay Pride festivals. But if it is raising awareness that is the centre of the campaign, both in the intentions of the organisers and the perception of society, then yeah, go for it.

Alanna – Maybe my anger has been misdirected, but even if my point is less worthy and noble than yours, I’d still like to voice my opinion on certain matters that appear more trivial.

Karren (although this feels extraordinarily odd to use your first name!) – Yeah, you’re right, and a point I probably severely overlooked. I think that’s a problem of writing a blog in a rant, it’s a tunnel-vision approach where one’s zealous spiel and eagerness to post results in a small-minded text without fully exploring all possibilities. Maybe the wish to make a slightly controversial statement blinds one from seeing the whole picture…..

Either way guys, without meaning to sound like a complete arse I really appreciate your criticism. Having your close-mindedness questioned helps to get a better understanding of these things. Ultimately my phenomenological perspective of reality got in the way of more important matters that I shouldn’t have discounted…..so, thanks.

From ‘Glad To Be Gay’ to ‘Born This Way’: Why the protest song died.

People often argue that the youth today are apolitical, apathetic and all-round gobshites that don’t give a shit. Well, if they are, who can blame them.

To look at popular music now and popular music 40 or 50 years ago and you get a very different state of affairs. Rather than songs about being ‘in the club’ or ‘getting slizzard’, we have a generation of music categorised by resisting The System.

Take, for example, The Tom Robinson Band anthem Glad To Be Gay. Released in 1978, over ten years after the decriminalisation of male homosexual acts, it was a scathing attack on the police, media and society for refusing to accept gayness.

“So sit back and watch as they close all our clubs 
Arrest us for meeting and raid all our pubs
Make sure your boyfriend’s at least 21
So only your friends and your brothers get done
Lie to your workmates, lie to your folks
Put down the queens and tell anti-queer jokes
Gay Lib’s ridiculous, join their laughter
‘The buggers are legal now, what more are they after?’”

I would struggle to recall a song in recent years with that level of venom. The closest we’ve got to defending gay rights is Lady Gaga, who in Born This Way states rather cryptically that it doesn’t matter if you love him, or capital H-I-M. She may also argue that a different lover is not a sin, but this is still an incredibly ambiguous line. Yes it’s obviously about being gay, but she doesn’t outrightly state that it’s okay to be gay until a revamp of a chorus towards the end.

In all fairness, why should she. This is 2011. When the openly-gay Robinson wrote Glad To be Gay in 1976, things were very, very different. Homophobia was still rife, and it was still illegal to have gay sex with an under-21, five years more than it is for straights. As Robinson states in the second verse, tabloid papers demonised homosexuality a damn sight more than Jan Moir did over Stephen Gateley. Homophobia in Britain today is the attitude of a minority, hence why it’s fine for Gaga to be subtle.

A key difference in this approach to gay liberation in protest songs is a cultural shift. No longer is there a need to right a wrong in society, instead Gaga preaches to her ‘little Monsters’ the importance of self-acceptance and embracing one’s identity as an outsider. This creation of a subculture by Gaga of freaks, gays and Monsters is a coping mechanism that still stands as strong as Robinson’s words.

It is due to this social change from yesteryear that the protest song has diminished. Compared to the racial and gender struggles that our parents fought against and sung about, we don’t have the same massive inequalities in society for people to protest about.

Er, actually, hang on a minute. I seem to be forgetting two vital issues within society, which maybe our forefathers would have written a more potent song or two about.

Iraq and Afghanistan. Two wars, both waged by Western superpowers in countries far away in an attempt to enforce their democratic system. Totally not similar to anything that’s happened before.  At all.

To say that people cared more in generations past is to look back on the past is to only tell half the story. There is a reason for apathy, and it seems the reason is that youth culture forgot to give a shit.

In all fairness, resistance through music is only mainstream if record producers realise they’re going to make a profit. For instance, the signing of Jefferson Airplane to a major record label only happened because the music fatcats saw the popularity of the counter-culture in San Francisco and decided to cash in.

It is an unfortunate truth that any music with a political message is never picked up in the charts. Sure, Black Eyed Peas’s Where Is The Love? was a massive hit, but only stood against 9/11, and not about the wars in its aftermath. One could point to Boom!  by System of a Down, with lyrics deeply criticising the US and UK’s involvement in Iraq as an outstanding example of telling the Man what for. In fact, the only outright musical statement against the Iraq war was made by George Michael in his video, both lyrically and extraordinarily visually, for Walk the Dog.

How could George Michael get away with this in the eyes of the nervous, money-hungry music monopolies? Because he is British. The prevalent patriotism following 9/11 in America made it incredibly difficult for musicians to criticise the Bush administration and the Iraq War. A country united by the destruction and grief caused by extremists meant that those who spoke against the wars would be demonised, or worse, lose money. Take, for example, the Dixie Chicks. Before 2003, they were one of America’s biggest bands. Whilst on stage at Shepherd’s Bush Empire in the weeks prior to the invasion of Iraq, they proclaimed that they were ashamed that George W Bush came from Texas. Not a song about it, just a statement on stage. Cue fans and radio stations boycotting their music, their releases flopping, and throw a few death threats in for good measure.

The ownership and capitalist interests of music corporations means that songs that attack the status quo are discouraged, as no mainstream label wants to fund a wrong’un. Instead, the protest song is doomed to live out the rest of its days as nothing more than a viral sensation. The notorious Andrew Lansley Rapagainst the Tory minister’s proposed health cuts is more about amount of YouTube hits than Hit 40 UK, and was even chanted at recent protests against the government. It’s witty, incredibly sharp and the amount of political jargon that is rapped out is quite extraordinary.

It may seem like the only option for musical resistance in the West may be through viral protests, but surely a better world would be one where protest songs didn’t exist. As Lady Gaga herself said in a YouTube video directed at President Obama, “my wish for the future is that I won’t have to write protest songs”. No problems, no protest. Here’s to hoping that protest songs die out peacefully, rather than lost to apathy and fearful music conglomerates.

I Get By With A Little Cover From My Friends

I am the kind of person that hardcore fans hate. I’m the obnoxious git that’ll listen to a song with an enigmatic grin upon my face and think “close, but no cigar”. You may offer me an original song, my friend, but I will retort with “ah, but have you heard THIS BAND’S version? It’s AWESOME”.

This is especially brought to focus in light of Apple finally releasing some of The Beatles’ music onto iTunes. A great day for us legal purchasers, yes. But one opinion of mine that has led to receiving the stink-eye off many a few extreme Beatles lovers is that other artists can, in fact, make the songs better than the originals.

The Beatles were undeniably one of the greatest popwriters of all time. I think it’s pretty remarkable when songs almost half a century old are still breathtakingly beautiful whilst fantastically simple (eg I Want To Hold Your Hand, I’ve Just Seen A Face). I know it’s an overused phrase, but the majority of The Beatles’ anthology are timeless classics.

Yet, it is hard to argue that the Fab Four were fab vocalists. Their perfectly-penned pieces are given a new sound with, well, better singers, who more often than not put their own individual twist on a song. I’m going to take this opportunity to don my far-too-frequently-donned Zealous Hat and pick my top 5 Beatles covers. How very High Fidelity.

 

1) Ben Harper – Strawberry Fields Forever

I’ve always felt sorry for Ben Harper. His protégé Jack Johnson’s career excelled his own, despite being indisputably better. Harper’s stunning vocals truly shine here, especially on “I think I know, I mean a ‘yes’ but it’s all wrong”. It’s confusion and it’s pain, all done without slowing down the vocals (as heard on the original). Controversial change in the introduction to go from keyboards and switch to violins, but it works. It sounds less like an LSD trip and more of an honest outpour from a lost soul.

 

2) Eddie Izzard – Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite

Comedian? Singing? Surely not, not after Shatner’s and Jim Carrey’s attempts at covering The Beatles! Put your worries aside, this song is made for Izzard. The song was inspired by a poster for a circus from yesteryear. Fun, no? Dare I say it, Lennon sounds genuinely bored when he sings it. This rendition is taken from Across The Universe, a 2007 jukebox musical of The Beatles’ songs. It is amazing. Truly. It was hard to choose just one song from it, but this was topping the bill, baby (ah ha, ah ha.) The comedy adlibs, the circus atmosphere and, well, general Eddie-ness that’s added to this version just make you feel a little bit cheated by the original.
Nb – This scene in the movie is FUCKED UP. But don’t let it stop you from watching it, it’s easily in my top 10 favourite films.

 

3) Stevie Wonder – We Can Work It Out

Most people wouldn’t consider R&B and The Beatles as mixing. But this is a fine bit of aural pleasure (wink wink…), with Wonder’s tender vocals bringing a real passion to this song. The determination he screams the title with works beautifully with the lively beat and the guitar riff. The bridge is phenomenal – lifted from the borderline monotonous chants of the original to one of the best bits of this song.

 

4) Elliott Smith – Because

I admittedly know very little about Elliott Smith bar one or two songs, and the notorious tragedy of his death and troubled life. But one thing I do know is that this man is The Don of harmonising. The Beatles were good singers, but they weren’t great. Because’s strength is its stunning harmonies, and I’m glad the baton passed to Smith. One man has made a more chilling and haunting sound than the three voices on the original, undeniably making it the superior version.

 

5) Me First and the Gimme Gimmes – All My Loving

And where better to finish than on punk rock. No, I am not insinuating that Me First are better singers than The Beatles, but I’d like to think that if they were starting off today, they’d probably sound a little bit more like this. Lovely.

 

This list is not exhaustive, and I’d love to hear any suggestions of favourite Beatles covers. Just thought I’d put a few suggestions out there. Hope you enjoyed, and don’t want to throw rare bootleg vinyls at me until I admit I’m wrong =)

Please Don’t Stop The Music..als.

As anyone who has spoken to me for more than approximately ten minutes can tell, it’s pretty common knowledge that I am insatiably attracted to any television show or film with a song-and-dance number. As a child, I was convinced that ‘Where Is Love’ from Oliver! was the best song I had ever heard; I saw a lot of of myself in Greta from The Sound of Music.

*WANT WANT WANT*

It’s how I got into Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and even how someone tried to tempt me into watching Indiana Jones…y’know, because there’s a snippet of a Japanese production of Cole Porter’s classic Anything Goes. And so, it’s obvious that Glee has been ideal watching for one Anna Hallissey.

I was one of those saddos who downloaded the whole of series one before the rest of the UK really knew what it was, and, on the whole, I have been rather impressed. Ultimately it’s utter shite smattered with cheese, what with Will Schuester’s ‘lessons’ becoming more saccharine than golden syrup-filled sugarcubes, but hey, that’s what escapism’s about, after all.

Today I watched the season finale. And, being the emotional mess that I am, I unsurprisingly wept like an infant. We see character functions that Vladmir Propp could recite in his sleep (that’s right, I’m getting all Media terminology on this shit), ridiculously predictable plotlines, and no purpose for Mike and Matt, the token silent boys in New Directions. Sure, it wasn’t groundbreaking television, but that’s what Lost is for. Glee is uplifting. It perfectly demonstrates the point I have often upheld that life would be much better if it were a musical. We would all be able to express ourselves in unprecedented ways, and if we were miserable, hell, we’d sing and all our troubles would just melt away. I don’t know about you, but that seems like a pretty fucking awesome place to me.

To cope with the loss of Glee (well, until next season), I have been dosing myself up on High School Musical-esque movies. I’ve reached the realisation that musicals could, in fact, be back. I know we will never return to the joys of the Golden Age of Hollywood. Never again will we see superstars like Grace Kelly, Fred Astaire or Frank Sinatra dominate the genre, with an elegance that is still astounding today.

Does exactly what it says on the tin.

Instead, that baton has been passed to a younger generation. I’m not suggesting that we should remake High Society with children (because let’s face it…that would be some fucked-up shit), but instead not condemn films like ‘Starstruck’, ‘The American Mall’ or ‘Spectacular’. A friend recommended these to me, and sure, they are AWFUL, but there is a certain degree of charm. They’re keeping a dying art alive.

Don’t get me wrong, recent attempts at blockbuster musicals have been far from appalling. Just look at Chicago, proudly sporting 6 Oscars, or the undeniable brilliance of Moulin Rouge. Hairspray brought back a sense of family fun that the two previous films lacked, and don’t even get me started on how amazing Enchanted was. But hit movie-musicals are few and far between, as the Hollywood machine is set to either shit rom-com or shit horror mode for the majority of the time.

I guess what I’m trying to say (in a very long-winded manner) is that while the classy wonder of the musicals of yesteryear may be disappearing, the role of the musical is still yet to fade. Sure, it’s been left in the hands of a teeny-bopper market, but Glee has proved that this genre is still accessible to everyone. My mum watches it, her 10-year-old pupils watch it, uni students watch it. Clearly corny escapism and jazz-hands still have a big place in all our hearts. Well, until they make the Footloose remake, anyway. Heads will fucking roll.

Odeon Makes A Spectacle Out Of Customers

The short-sighted have a pretty bum deal in life. We can’t tell if it’s actually our friend a few metres away, and look rude when we can’t acknowledge them. We can’t tell the prices at KFC without pretty much hitting our faces with the sign. We’re forced to highlight our distinct lack of vision on an application for a driver’s licence. And when we are bespectacled, we just look like outright nerds.

Our latest challenge in life has been brought by the hands of Hollywood and technology. 3D cinema is sent to test us. Sure, the visual effects are stunning, but I feel like an absolute knob having to wear my glasses underneath my 3D specs.

I understand that there’s very little to resolve the problem of looking like a weirdo. Making prescription 3D glasses seems a touch excessive, and you’re not exactly the centre of attention in a dark cinema screen. But it’s just a nuisance trying to push your 3D glasses up your nose while your regular pair stands humbly to attention, soldiering on and giving you the ability to see what’s actually going on in the film you paid good money to see.

Correct me if you’re the speccy type as well, but seeing a film in 3D seems like a chore. Our friends laugh at us, our noses are disgruntled by the sensation of two pairs of glasses, and I personally am such a luddite that I don’t really notice the massive difference between that and 2D, despite all my efforts.

To conclude this short rant in despair about how modern life moves too fast for me, I hope you can take a minute to understand that your short-sighted friend may not have been so keen to see Avatar after all. And please, for the love of God, don’t giggle at us when we come with you to the cinema. It’s not our fault we look like dickheads.

It’s really not a good look on anyone.

Reality TV Competitions Are Not The Enemy

They’ve dominated our television screens for the best part of decade. They’re on every channel. They make us laugh, they make us cry (well, perhaps just me, I’m ridiculously hyper-sensitive after all). We see winners, we see losers. We see the mundane, and the outright ridiculous. We see art. There is nothing better, in my eyes, than a good ol’ reality television competition.

Last night, Rufus Hound spectacularly took the title of champion of Let’s Dance for Sport Relief. With an awe-inspiring rendition of ‘Fight For This Love’, Hound beat off competition from fantastic efforts such as Katy Brand’s ‘Single Ladies’ (and I still don’t think it’s an insult to say that she really did look like a fat white Beyonce). He took the title from last year’s winner Robert Webb, whose version of ‘Flashdance’ still stands as a beacon of perfect television. So, with these two performances in mind, I thought I’d count down my top 5 moments of this type of competition. I’m a complete sucker for any programme full of singing and dancing, after all.

5. Last Choir Standing – ‘I’m Still Standing’

I personally think that ‘I’m Still Standing’ is one of the best songs of all time. It’s been seen many times in this kind of competition (Jill Halfpenny’s jive on series 2 of Strictly Come Dancing is potentially the best dance ever seen in any series, and Lloyd Daniels murdered it on this year’s X Factor). But Last Choir Standing showcased the song at its musical best, in the way only an ensemble can.

4. Let’s Dance for Comic Relief – ‘Flashdance’

It would be heresy to not include this in the All-Time Greatest list. Let’s face it. When it’s done well, we love drag. And watching ‘the one that’s not David Mitchell’ busting some sweet moves around a stage is a prime example of the unexpected being, well, amazing.

3. Strictly Come Dancing – Rachel Stevens’s Tango

I’m not a dancing expert, on any level. However, I think anyone can tell that this is perfect choreography by Vincent Simone. I’m going to refrain from gushing about how ‘Here Comes The Rain Again’ makes me glad music exists, but instead focus on how the dynamics of this dance are absolutely perfect. It’s got the perfect mix of slow and fast, and high and low, and the staccatos are fantastic. The musicality is spot-on throughout (that little ‘ding’ and the foot touch? Oooh, gives me shivers!), and shows how these programmes can make an amazing result from an otherwise dull and failing popstar.

2. Popstars – Darius does Britney

Unfortunately I couldn’t find a YouTube video for this one, but Popstars was the programme to start them all off. I’m sure no one who watched it has been able to release this little gem from their memory. Darius Danesh, that arsey Scottish bloke with a dodgy beard, diva-fying Britney’s debut hit. It was a classic.

1. Jedward – Everything Jedward ever did.

Enough. Said.

I fully understand if you don’t agree with me on any of these, I’m up for debate about this. But I hope you enjoyed these little snippets of gold, and reminisce the joy that reality competitions have brought to our lives. And remember…keeeep dancing!

An Ode to the Key Change

There are, arguably, many elements that make the perfect song. A catchy tune to draw you in, charming lyrics to keep your attention, maybe even the middle-eight that dreams are made of. But there’s one little ingredient that I’m pretty sure will make any good song definitively fantastic. You’ve got it, ladies and gentlemen. I’m talking about the musical deity that is the Key Change.

It’s an age-old trick. If you want to portray desperation, or passion, the best way to do it is with a key change. One of my all-time favourites, despite being a recent discovery, is a fairly old song. Frankie Valli’s “My Eyes Adored You” (click for the Jersey Boys rendition) is a song about Valli wanting, but never having, the girl of his dreams since he was a wee lad. For the impatient, skip to 1:13, hear the original key, and then the transition. Wow. This has gone from a song about longing, to the absolute agony of how Frankie really was “so close, and yet so far”. The introduction of the saxophone is heartbreaking; it echoes the melancholy of the lyrics perfectly.

More recently, key changes became the staple diet of boybands. And, giving credit where it’s due, Boyzone and Westlife really did nail them. Cast your minds back to the triumph of “Love Me For a Reason” (and please, please forget the gratuitous use of the word ‘facsimile’ in a love song). Skip to 3:05, and you’ll see the perfect key change in place. The music softens, and the boys even sing a capella. And then bam. The drums roll (albeit clearly machine drums), and they hit you. Their pitch rises, and that care for their girl really shows. And after a performance like that, I don’t think anyone would think twice about loving them for fun. (Nb – also see Kelly Clarkson’s “Because of You” to see this technique shine).

Least not forget, the key change is not only reserved for the ballads, oh no. I’m not going to lie to anyone, “The Thong Song” by Sisquo is a personal favourite of mine. Sure, it may be a little chauvinistic, but jeez…that key change is PHENOMENAL. The violins in a rap song are swoon-worthy enough as it is, but they build up beautifully into the key change (check from 2:38). You can tell by his vocals over the top of the main melody that this man really REALLY wants to see that thong. You can bet your bottom dollar that the incline led to many impassioned shapes being pulled on dancefloors worldwide.

Okay, this may seem like a giant butt-kiss to the Gods of the Key Change, but I seriously think that the key change can make songs perfect. They give songs finish, a crescendo, the victory at the end of a journey. It’s like the joy of catching your 150th Pokemon, or sprinkling parmesan cheese onto your home-cooked spaghetti bolognese. It’s what completes the game, the final ingredient that makes the meal perfect. God bless you, key change.

Mutya Buena vs Postmodernism – A phrase I never thought I’d write.

I can still remember the first time I heard Sugababes. It was in the year 2000 (gosh, this realisation makes me feel old…) on CD:UK, and they were previewing their new single ‘Overload’. Which, to this day, still remains a banging tune. There was something about Mutya, Keisha and Siobhan that set them apart. They weren’t dolled up, they weren’t hip-hop, they were three teenagers just as themselves, singing a song.

Shortly after the success of a few singles, Siobhan decided to run away in the middle of a video shoot and leave the band. From what I can recall, anyway. Since then, Sugababes have had a plethora of hits, and more importantly, a complete change in line-up. Siobhan was replaced by Heidi, when Mutya upped sticks, we got Amelle. And finally, when Keisha, the one remaining beacon of the original band, decided that she could no longer continue with the group, we got that bird who did okay at Eurovision last year. Or Jade, if you will.

So, this week, original ‘Babe Mutya Buena decided to file a claim for the band’s name. Ooh-er missus. She argued that as part of the original line-up, it’s her right to have the name, and potentially even release material under it. Which would leave the current line-up of replacements unable to call themselves Sugababes, a midly tickling prospect at any length.

This isn’t the first time that bands have had members replaced. I can’t even fathom the amount of musicians who played alongside Frankie Valli as part of the Four Seasons. It seems to be part of our postmodern world. Nothing is original, everything can be replaced, and culture is just constantly recycled. At the end of the day, if it sells, isn’t that the most important thing?

Before I get myself into a hyper-critical rant about consumerism in modern society (maybe I’ll save that one for another time? =P), I do think that Mutya’s stand against the Sugababes (which admittedly can’t technically be defined as Sugababes anymore) shows something important: You can’t just carry a band on to make more money. The band have really run their course, peaking at Change (an album I would thoroughly recommend to any pop music fan), and I’m sure that any citizen with functioning ears will realise that ‘Wear My Kiss’ really is a load of old shit. So Mutya, may you succeed. And stop this horrific attempt at pop music before it gets any worse, and the current ‘Sugababes’ get completely replaced by the struggling members of One True Voice. Heaven forbid.

Twitter the Devil You Know

As part of this blog-writing process, we were advised that a good way to raise publicity for your posts is through the new medium of Twitter. Now, I can’t say I’m exactly a fan of blog-writing itself, but I feel like whatever anger I may feel towards it, it does not compare to my Twitter Rage.

You may not agree, but I find it hard to regard blogs as anything more than the zealous ramblings for the self-indulgent. I completely understand if no-one reads this, for what value does my opinion actually hold? Very little, I think.

Twitter, however, is a step forwards in the new-age revelation that we are the centre of our own universe. With an ethos of posting little snippets of the mundane aspects of your life throughout the day, it calls into question as to who actually cares…

An apparent ‘highlight’ of Twitter is the ability to get Tweets from your favourite celebrity or public figure. Which is just celebrity obsession taken to the next, and mildly frightening, stage. No matter how much in love with David Mitchell I am, it’s really not my top priority to find out when he’s filming his next show.

Okay, I may only be a Twitter newbie, and perhaps within weeks I’ll be writing a sterling retraction. But until then, I’ll be cringing as I press the ‘publish’ button on everything I write.