Saturday, August 17, 2002

Up the Hatch

I don't know what makes me queasiest about this Desert News report on Orrin Hatch's musical aspirations - he's the real life Bob Roberts, it seems.

Is it that the crypto-conservative's "lullabies" are currently serenading Stuart Little? Could it be that Bono is not only hanging out with people like this, but offering them advice on how their lyrics sound? (Not that that should be a surprise - watching Bono dance for Bush Jr's photo-op in return for a miserable few quid tossed in the poor box earlier this year showed exactly where Vox's heart lies - he loves the hard-on that the powerful gives, and doesn't care what direction it points).

But, no, the worst part is surely the discovery that, even away from the camera, Bono speaks like that - "the brothers won't sing them"? Jesus, the man is such a cliche it's amazing that he hasn't arranged his own tragic death and candlelit vigil.
Oh, and Hatch? Don't listen to Bono. If your songs are any good, get yourself a snazzy pseudonym, and send them off to Geffen. Being a right-wing fuck has never been a stumbling block to music business success. Ask Eric Clapton.

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