The Hit Parade Issue Number Five - by Joey Sarajevo
So, another year, another Mercury Prize winner for the middle classes to display on their coffee table, and this time round it’s a (very) gay New York transvestite singing torch songs… For all the fun to be had watching Chelsea Tractor owners up and down the country squirm with closeted prejudice as they discover that Anthony and the Johnsons aren’t actually fronted by a black woman but rather a white bummer in a frock, however, there’s a sneaking suspicion that the judges themselves are going to be just as shocked – since, frankly, the idea that the Mercury Prize has ever gone to an album on musical merit alone seems pretty far-fetched.
There is something reassuringly elitist about the whole enterprise, to be sure – none of the ‘Best Bulgarian Grunge Folk Crossover Artist’ or ‘Music of South-East Ghanaian Origin’ bollocks for the Mercury panel, oh no – ten albums, best one is THE best, end of story. And, in fairness, the shortlist is usually pretty good, even if you can always tell it was drawn up by a committee of guilt-ridden Guardian/Q Magazine readers trying to make sure they tick all the right boxes.
Take this year’s list as an example – vaguely alternative folk-rock singer songwriter a la Beth Orton (KT Tunstall)? Check. Vaguely alternative populist rock bands (Coldplay, Kaiser Chiefs and the rest)? Check. Vaguely alternative ‘underground’ rock band (Bloc Party)? Check. Not forgetting the vaguely alternative jazz and folk albums which never, EVER, win BY LAW (this year represented by Seth Lakeman and Polar Bear) and the vaguely alternative ‘ethnic’ artist (MIA) there to make the whole thing look a bit less white middle class rock critic-y. Not that the Mercury will ever, ever be anything other than white middle-class rock critic-y mind – mainly because no-one other than white middle class rock critics or white middle class people who want to be rock critics actually give a monkeys about this kind of stuff.
The real problem with the Mercury is that it’s a prize for people who love prizes and lists more than they love music; worse, it’s a prize for people who think there is music you should like, and actually put up with even if you don’t (no-one – NO-ONE – on the 2003 panel really listens to Dizzee Rascal for pleasure). M People’s win in ’94 aside, there’s rarely any actual pop music on the shortlist, let alone in contention despite the fact that one brash, disposable Girls Aloud are worth a million dreary, ‘authentic’ dullards like Athlete and Keane. The jazz, folk and ‘ethnic’ sections are rarely if ever what fans of that music would pick – and God help anyone who straddles more than one of these categories.
Still, a few more people might by a few more decent records, so I shouldn’t really complain – but then I’m a white, middle-class, and always wanted to be a rock critic, so what did you expect?
Moving swiftly on, here’s this weeks Top Ten:
10. James Blunt: You’re Beautiful - Ah, soon I will never have to write about this song ever again. You have no idea how happy that makes me.
9. Les Rhythmes Digitales: Jacques Your Body (Make Me Sweat) - There was a time when dance music was considered cutting edge – not that you’d realise it when guys from Reading are re-releasing (admittedly quite fun) warmed-over Daft Punk pastiches on the back of car ads.
8. David Gray: The One I Love - No sooner is Blunt on his way out than this prick stumbles back into view. Hopefully when Bruce Springsteen sues him for ripping off ‘Hungry Heart’ he’ll be so desperate for cash that I can lure him into a bear trap with all that small change I can never find a use for.
7. Black Eyed Peas: Don’t Lie - Fucking rubbish.
6. Simon Webbe: Lay Your Hands - Also fucking rubbish, from a man who claims to aspire to being Bill Withers. The muppet.
5. Oasis: The Importance Of Being Idle - Not as bad as I first made out. Still not that great.
4. Jessica Simpson: These Boots Are Made For Walkin’ - Frighteningly bad, although just thinking about what the video must be like – I haven’t even seen it yet – makes me tingle.
3. Daniel Powter: Bad Day - Well, it is now I’ve listened to you, you bastard. (He is Canadian Joey - Liam R)
2. Rihanna: Pon De Replay Again, I was a bit harsh on this before, but not so harsh that I can really recommend this efficient if unspectacular dancefloor number.
1. Gorillaz: Dare Not Gorillaz’ best by quite a way, but still far and away the best number one since I’ve started doing these columns. Good to see Shaun Ryder back in the Top Ten as well.
Joey Sarajevo: Both UNKLE albums (cheers for the 4 for £20 offer, Cardiff Virgin Megastore), LOTS of Jazz (cheers for taking over my living room, Commie Dave) and the keyboard/guitar stylings of Mr. Gavin Bunn and DJ Bad Mike
(cheers for the… hang on, there’s two of my beers left in their bloody fridge, the freeloaders).
Liam R: has mostly been listening to sweet sounds of The Holy Bible by the Manic Street Preachers.