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Britain's Got Talent, apparently
As if the programme itself didn't disprove the title - why would a country that possessed talent gather round to watch Piers Morgan instead - the depressing news that the Travelling Wilburys have gone into the album chart at number one would be enough to prove that, sorry, we don't.
The Wilburys project was creaking when it was new - like a group of blokes getting drunk at a barbecue and deciding to release their singalong as a record, complete with a faux backstory which might just have been worth doing had the men not been amongst the most famous on earth. But for the grim joshing to have a second run at throttling the life out the charts suggests that, actually, there is a God, and boy, is he pissed at us.
6 comments:
Terrible post, mate. it's apparent you're not too happy with yourself. Or that you have bad taste. I'm not sure which one is worse?
c diddy
ha ha - did you see their wives doing the interviews for them on BBC news?
C Diddy:
I see what you've done there - you've confused me not liking something you do with me having some sort of personality flaw.
I'm not sure if you're upset because I don't like the Wilburys or because I don't like Piers Morgan, but either way, I'd imagine that self-hatred would be worse than poor taste, as a person would be aware of their self-hatred, but, presumably, it is impossible to really believe that your taste is "wrong".
Regardless: even if The Traveling Wilburys were the best thing in the world, having a twenty year old side project topping the charts is something of a mark of shame for the British music world, don't you think?
Apparently, George Harrison was thinking about asking Del Shannon to replace Roy Orbison after the 'Big O' checked out. His plan was thwarted though when Shannon shot himself. Make of this what you will...
I think he's spot on. If Britain really does have talent, why are we rushing out to buy an re-release of an album that had its day about 20 years ago. Who's next for no1? Brother Beyond? Living In A Box? Johnny Hates Jazz?
Don't panic - If it's any consolation, it was Father's Day yesterday. Hence for the last seven days, TV has been plugging stuff like the Travelling Wilburys as 'The perfect Fathers' Day present' (i.e. the musical equivalent of a Turtlewax gift pack). Cue the mass-buying of duff albums by thousands of people whose only contact with their Dad is a monthly grunt over the phone and the occasional query about rawlplugs. As a result, the next week's Album Top 10 is full of tat like 'World's Best Dad!', 2 CDs of depressing pub-rock carefully selected for that special dad, based on the fact that, you know, he's a bloke. And all blokes like 'Parisienne Walkways', apparently.
(Who chooses these Father's Day and Mother's Day compilation tracklistings, anyway? Is there some sort of hormonal change during childbirth that midwives are prepared for?
"Congratulations, it's a healthy baby boy! How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright, but all of a sudden I've got this urge to hear 'Smoke on the Water', and my wife's asking for Ronan Keating")
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