The Hit Parade Volume Four Issue Seven by Liam R
[Editor’s note: fuck count – 35. But is all for a cheap gag!]
Well we're back once more after an enforced lay off due to holidays and work. My trip to the States was a good one, as I saw some beautiful countryside, met some absolute lunatics (in a good way!) but just generally kicked back and relaxed for a few days which is what I've needed since my last holiday some seven years ago. And as for work, well I have already noted that I cannot possibly take any time off in the run up to the end of the financial year as I came back to be faced with over 400 emails and the mother of all shit storms to have to pick my way through. Yet somehow, some way I managed to get everything done in the five days I was back for but I was so fucking tired after each day and wasn't even stopping to eat, so the Hit Parade had to be sacrificed just so I wouldn't have to work at the weekend. And since I haven't worked a Saturday since my days working in the pub, this can only be categorised as a very good thing. On the other hand, I genuinely didn’t mind working Saturdays, it was just Sundays that did my fucking head in but seeing as most Sunday night TV is fucking shockingly bad, maybe working was a good thing. Oh well, enough waffling, more columning!
Just Burn The Fuckers: I am fully aware that my title teaser to the immediate right has fuck all to do with the following story, but it's my fucking column and I'll fucking say what the fucking hell I fucking want to and if you don't fucking like it you can fuck right the fuck off. Fucking ITV have fucking escaped any sort of fucking fine after Sharon fucking Osbourne fucking swore live on the fucking Brit Awards last fucking month. The fucking ruling stated that as the fucking show was shown after the fucking watershed it was perfectly fucking alright for that fucking Osbourne woman to call fucking Vic Reeves a fucking pisshead. Did you see what I fucking did there?
Reading Tickets, I Has Them: I'm not the brightest person when it comes to being prepared, but a few days after last year's Reading Festival I purchased two tickets for myself and my proncess to attend just so I wouldn't have to fuck about with silly coach tickets. Luckily, my pre-planning paid off as the confirmed line-up was released this past Monday and the performers who will be playing for my pleasure include Slipknot, Rage Against The Machine, Tenacious D, Dropkick Murphys, Dizzee Rascal, Queens Of The Stone Age, Bloc Party, Feeder, The Cribs, Manic Street Preachers, The Enemy and Serj Tankian. Oh yes, this one is going to be proper good.
My Chemical Toilet Fall Out At The Disco Seen Taking Notes: In yet another silly batch of business speak which seems to be infecting the music business, U2 have signed a 12 year deal with concert promoter Live Nation to handle the band's merchandising, digital and branding rights. The reason for such a deal is that band's aren't making enough money from selling records (usually because said records are absolute crap) and are now signing more encompassing deals so that all that money is linked together… and a whole lot of bollocks which has more to do with pushing 'The Brand' rather than the band, and also to make well-off people even more well off. Fuck it, I'm going to start illegally downloading songs now.
Her Tits Are Still Wonky: She is the founding author of the Acting Like A Diva manual and this past week in London saw Mariah Carey reach ever more absurd lengths to classify herself as the biggest of them all. What did she do, I can hear you asking quietly in the background? Why only close off a section of Oxford Street just to promote her new album of course and then decided that her and her entourage would be two hours late. What is possibly more irritating is that the album isn't actually due to be released for two months, and is no doubt going to be a steaming pile of dog shit as well.
The Rant Corner: Professional wrestling isn't called the lowest form of entertainment for nothing as at its heart it is still two people giving a rough approximation of a fight which has evolved from what wrestling originally was. Most people who watch the sport will tell you that the matches aren't the most important part but how you get to those matches through interviews and the like. When it's done well, wrestling matches can be exhilarating thrill rides built upon weeks of storytelling which give you a satisfying finish. Stuff like Shawn Michaels and The Undertaker going at it in the first Hell In A Cell match told a classic story (Undertaker is a pissed off killing machine, Shawn Michaels just wants to run away) while the HHH-Cactus Jack storyline in 2000 kicked HHH's career into the stratosphere while giving Mick Foley two matches to be proud of as he ended his career (and yes, I'm fully aware of Foley coming back time and time again, but give me a little leeway for once). But since 2001 the WWE has become, well, crap. Nonsensical and insulting storylines, characters ripped straight from the pages of bad fiction and awful matches. Interesting characters like Muhammed Hassan (Arab American sick to death of being treated like a criminal) and Eugene (man with learning difficulties becomes wrestling savant) were turned into tired stereotypes when the people writing storylines realised that these sort of characters needed depth. Every so often during the last five or so years, a diamond in the rough will appear, like Chris Jericho finally beating The Rock in late 2001, a result which honestly had be jumping about and cheering like a lunatic, as did Eddie Guerrero's win over Brock Lesnar in 2004. Even He Who Shall Not Be Named's win in the main event of 2004 had me marking out as if I was a teenage girl catching a glimpse of The Beatles in the 60s. And so we come to Wrestlemania 24, whereby Ric Flair was facing off against Shawn Michaels with Flair's career on the line. The match itself was fabulous with both guys hitting their signature moves and Flair even hitting a move off the top rope (something he has only ever done TWICE in his entire career!) but the ending was where it all happened. After swapping finishers Flair was down and seemingly out while Michaels was in the corner, looking for all the world that he didn't want to do what he was about to do. Flair staggered to his feet, Michaels looked him straight in the eye and did this:
And then it was over, Flair's career over just like that. But during the scene afterwards, with Flair's family in tears, people in the crowd in tears, and the standing ovation from the crowd, I'm not ashamed to admit that even I welled up and got a lump in my throat despite knowing in advance the result. So after all the scandals, all the deaths, the investigations, the stupid storylines, silly characters and crap matches wrestling still can be an art form at the highest level that can even get a reaction out of people like me who claim to have no soul. I'd also say that ordering the replay or getting the DVD just for this match would be money well spent because I know I didn't do the match justice. You just have to see and experience it for yourselves.
Quick And Dirty Hits: Wyclef Jean has written a record asking the people of Haiti to give up crime… Velvet Revolver have sacked Scott Weiland for being an unreliable smack head. Velvet Revolver are still fucking awful, so it's no great loss… Slash hates emo, which is kind of stating the obvious as all emo except for the fantastic Jimmy Eat World is fucking terrible… Chad 'The Poodle' Kroeger of Nickleback has been found guilty of drink driving…
Great Albums As Chosen By Me: The 1980s were a decade defined by terrible fashion, terrible haircuts and terrible music on the whole but thanks in a large part to seminal video game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City I have slowly but surely discovered that the eighties weren't as musically bereft as previously thought. One such diamond in the rough is ABC's legendary album 'The Lexicon Of Love' which Q magazine have called in the past singer Martin Fry's one shot at pop immortality and wouldn't you guess but that is selling it short. From the opening orchestral sweep through to its closing moments, it shimmers with a veneer which is sadly missing from some music that is being made today, while floating on an undercurrent of intelligent writing and great musicianship. Most people only know 'Poison Arrow' and 'The Look Of Love' which even now are still underappreciated classics but there is so much more to The Lexicon than those two tracks. 'Show Me' is pure disco punk, while 'Tears Are Not Enough' is a juddering piece of off-kilter funk with a killer brass hook. Of course, the album has now been given the deluxe treatment which includes an entire live set as well as demos and the like, the best of which is the quite simply hilarious and awesome 'Into The Valley Of The Heathen Go' where Fry's 80s disco warriors morph into a combination of Led Zeppelin with a dash of AC/DC to boot. If you're still one of those people that believes that nothing worthwhile musically came out of the 80s, this album will change your mind. It does take time to grow on you, but when it does you'll be humming the breakdown of 'Date Stamped' without even realising it. A true under-appreciated gem of an album.
You all know what time it is...
10. Alphabeat: Fascination (Charisma) – I thought it was going to be like Basshunter but luckily I was wrong. It is absolutely fucking dreadful though.
9. OneRepublic: Stop And Stare (Interscope) – Very different to what they sound like with Timbaland fucking about with their sound, but still incredibly dire like a poor man’s Coldplay. And no-one wants to be that.
8. Chris Brown: With You (Jive) – Who bad did R‘n’B get in the last few years? This bloody bad that’s how bad.
7. Nickelback: Rockstar (Roadrunner Records) – I like the idea of the video even though Limp Bizkit did it first and if you’re copying Limp Bizkit, you really should just shoot yourself.
6. Leona Lewis: Better In Time/Footprints In The Sand (Syco Music) – Better In Time is not awful but not awe-inspiring either. Footprints In The Sand is the sort of supposed heart-rending ballad that causes me to want to murder people.
5. Madonna Ft Justin Timberlake: 4 Minutes (Warner Bros) – Justin Timberlake continues to be a musical man whore, the backing track ain’t that bad but it just doesn’t cut it for me.
4. Sam Sparro: Black & Gold (Universal) – Five years ago this would be called electroclash, nowadays it’s called “fucking terrible”.
3. Duffy: Mercy (A&M) – Oh sod off and leave me alone you shrill voiced harpy of death.
2. Flo Rida Ft T-pain: Low ( Atlantic ) – Lil John has a lot to answer to, as this crunk inspired bollocks is infesting the world of hip hop. Someone (Kanye, Jay, Em, I’m looking at you) save rap before it’s too late.
1. Estelle Ft Kanye West: American Boy (Atlantic/homeschool) – Now this is something I could listen to and not want to kill anyone. DING DING DING DING! We have a single of the week!
The Final Word: “ Police seize seven rattlesnakes, a gaboon viper, a king cobra, an iguana, two monitor lizards, two alligators, a boa constrictor and a python from owner who was in the hospital having his fingers amputated due to a snakebite” – Fark headline. Wouldn’t you know it was in America as well.