Imagine if the Grammys took place in a room where all the air had been sucked out of it. And imagine if before the air was sucked out the room, the budget was cut by 95%. Oh, and James Bay was put at the heart of things.
You don't need to imagine that. Because it's happening! Tonight!
And we'll be there (or here) for the all-important Brits liveblog. At this URL.
You'll recall the Brits loved that so much at the time they had Jarvis arrested.
Last year, there was a genuine talking point moment, but if your awards are relying on a fifty-something woman choosing between falling over or garrotting herself for people to pay attention, you've got a structural problem.
8.00pm
Ant And Dec. It's like it's bloody 1997.
There's some before-show business about not wearing capes.
8.02pm
Everyone has "upped their game", promise Ant and Dec. Perhaps to make up for ITV having lowered their sights?
People dressed as the "iconic" (supposedly) Brit Awards are dancing to something so-so. Bravely, they've gone out to dance amongst the nonplussed executives sitting at the tables.
8.05
Mercifully, it was a short sequence. Ant (or is it Dec?) run through the delights on offer - Little Mix, Jess Glynne. The cheers for Rihanna sounded more like they were genuine than some of the others.
Coldplay on first. Chris Martin and chums have tricked out their stage to look like they're doing a themed beach party in the 1970s. Oh, but they also have fire plumes which are set off at the less-mild bit of the songs. So that's a beach party where Dad couldn't light the barbecue and tried lobbing on some paraffin.
8.08
The Coldplay song repeats "so high, so high", like a thirteen year-old who has just had a teeny puff on his first spliff.
Having tried to enliven the plodding song with fire, they've now set off some glitter. They really are chucking everything at this performance. Well, except a half-decent song.
8.10
"Love Coldplay" says Dec (or is it Ant). Yes, you're a white, middle-aged man. Of course you do.
You can vote using hashtags for best video! It's modern. AND IN NO WAY OPEN TO #RIGGINGTHEVOTE.
One Direction are on the shortlist, so the actual voting is just a formality.
"You can only vote once" warns Dan (or is it Eck?). Yeah. There'd be no way around that, he said, rapidly deleting cookies and swapping between browsers.
8.12
We've got to an award quite quickly - the now defunct One Direction are on stage to do Best British Female. Jess Glynne/Florence/Laura Marling/Amy Winehouse/Adele. Hardly any of them are dead, too.
8.13
It's Adele! Who is at least alive! Although it's not clear she actually released anything during the period the awards cover, otherwise, you know, she'd have been nominated for that.
Adele says its lovely to come back. She supports Ke$ha, though, which floats out into the room and Ant and Dec comment on how short her speech was.
Still: Adele went there. Pity ITV didn't find any Sony execs for reaction shots.
Not entirely clear how XL had embraced Adele being a woman, exactly. They didn't ask her to draw a tache on with a burned cork?
8.18
First ad break. Sky Q remind you this programme could follow you around the house. YOU WOULDN'T BE SAFE IN THE BATHROOM.
Gary Lineker is advertising a crisp packet which "turns into a bowl of crisps". Except it doesn't, really, it's just a fiddly bag that comes between you and your crisps.
8.19
Ant and Dec appear on tape plugging their Saturday show; there's a break bumper of Ellie Goulding looking a bit awkward.
Ant has got a flame thrower. Hijinks ensue.
Oh, he's set off the smoke alarm.
There's a security guard with a "I feel so sorry for you guys, all I have to do is stop people going backstage" look of pity on her face.
Justin Bieber and James The Hat Bay are on now - by another open fire. Is this year's event being organised by the scouts? ("Akalea says it's either fire-lighting, or else we're going to have to do knots all night long.")
Even Bieber tires of the acoustic thing, so sets fire to more of the stage, and does some more traditional limp poprock with the crotch thing.
8.23
Bieber really has employed the Henery V gambit - if you're shit for ages, when you stop being shit, people will think you're really great.
He keeps grabbing his cock; maybe all that fire is making it roast like a marshmallow.
8.25
Jesus, what is all this fire stuff this year? It already feels like hell, maybe they're just going to complete the ambience.
Nearly half an hour in, and we've only done one prize. Pick up the pace, people. There's News to be done at 10.
Ant and Dec return to make more jokes about smoke alarms.
Kylie's coming on to give out the next prize - British Male.
Calvin Harris v James Bay v Jamie XX v Aphex Twin v Mark Ronson
James Bay wins.
Perhaps it's just as well the Americans are burying this on the Fuse network - can you imagine if an American audience saw us proclaim the best male artist in Britain is the man in the hat.
Bay is confused by the round stage and can't work out where he's meant to be talking. He thanks people for believing for in him. If we don't believe, does he vanish?
8.30
Ant and Dec are prowling the floor looking for celebrities. Instead, they stumble across Nick Grimshaw and wave at Coldplay.
Oh, god, and they find Alan Carr. Carr complains about the journey to Greenwich and weeing in a bottle.
It's the most glittering event of the music year.
And we're off to a second break.
8.32
There's a singing packet of cream crackers on screen now. Better than any of the acts so far on the stage.
Lidl are selling parsnips for 39p.
What's with the DJ in the Virgin broadband ad? Okay, mate, you've got somewhere else to be, but couldn't you at least have waited until the end of Chaka Khan before fucking off?
8.36
We're back again. International Group: Tame Impala v Major lazer v Eagles Of Death Metal v Alabama Shakes v U2
Probably the most interesting shortlist of the evening, albeit providing you squint so you ignore U2.
And, surprisingly - it's Tame Impala. That's a surprise - its one of the few times you could see doing the mawkish thing would be right thing as well; giving it to EODM would have been a decent statement of what we value about music. But, no, this one time they decide to give an award based on music alone.
8.40
Nobody can find the cameras.
There's a really awkward bit where a woman in fetish wear comes and waggles her ass at the camera and rub Ant And Dec. What the actual?
Jess Glynne is up to do her tunes now. I wonder if anyone will set fire to things while she's playing. Jess says she ain't go far to go, which means she, at least, won't get caught in the back-up at the Blackwall Tunnel.
8.42
At least Jane McDonald had the good grace to work a few years on a cruise ship before hitting the stage on dry land.
I keep hearing "Jess Glynne" as "Jeff Lynn".
Ant is now giving a joke award to Dec. I say "joke".
Simon LeBon has come on to do a prize. The Brits have decided a man who used to own this night needs a Snooki Waterhouse to lend him some gravitas.
Little Mix v Adele v Calvin Harris & Disciples v Olly Murs V Years and Years v jess Glynne v Ed Sheeran v Phylis George v Ellie Goulding.
Best British single goes to Adele for Hello. (Okay, turns out she did release something in the qualifying period.)
The Ellie Goulding track was better, though, wasn't it? I mean, it just was.
"I love all them songs" says Adele.
8.48
Another break. They remind us that we can vote for Video of the year. I had totally forgotten that.
Adele's getting a bit...Bev in Abigail's Paarty isn't she? Half expected her to say she was looking forward to Demis Roussos #brits
They're trying hard, I'll give them that. More trying than hard.
Simon Pegg is now going to give out Best British Band...
Years & Years v Foals v Blur v One Direction v Coldplay.
"It could only be Coldplay" says Pegg. Well, yes, given the way the night's going, that would be right.
They take longer to get on stage than one of their songs takes to reach a chorus. "Blur was the first album I ever bought" says Chris Martin, failing to find the camera.
8.58
Chris Martin dedicates the award to people in refugee camps, which is something I suppose.
James Bay is now on live - yes, of course with the bloody hat - doing Hold Back The River.
Here's a cheeky screenshot of him backstage:
9.00
Jude Rogers says what we're all thinking:
I'm missing Will Young and Alison Steadman on Bake Off for this??? #BRITs2016
"Come on now, Brits, come on" cries Bay. There seems to be a thing about shouting at the audience and calling them "Brits", which manages to tip the whole thing into Farage territory.
Dec's hairline, I can't help noticing, now matches that of his TV co-star.
Major Lazer are on to dole out the next prize. They give a shout out to "all the international acts here". (The people whose labels forced them to come.)
Intl solo male:
Kendrick Lamar v John Misty v Weeknd v Bieber v Drake
Justin Bieber wins! It's almost as if he hadn't agreed to turn up and play the event, isn't it?
Bieber - dressed as a child being Eminem - tells us that life is a journey.
Ant and Dec are at a table with Coldplay. Because we haven't heard enough from them already, have we?
They literally have nothing to say. Genuinely, this is the most pointless thing to have appeared on ITV since that time the brought Bet Lynch back for five minutes in Corrie.
9.09
I don't know if Charlotte Church is watching ITV, but she's just tweeted this:
I dunno if I can take any more...... It's making me so angry.
(I suspect the random bloke who replied to that saying "what's up? PM me" should at least get points for trying.)
9.11
Yet more ads.
That woman putting a door in for her pony to come into the house hasn't thought through the implications for carpets and soft furnishings, has she? Maybe she'll Amazon prime a steam cleaner next.
There's not enough ads to fill the breaks online.
Simon Cowell is wheeled on next, looking confused. The look on his face from when the overnights for last series of X Factor came in, presumably.
Rihanna is on, apparently singing behind a giant Venetian Blind.
9.15
It's nice that she's using lights rather than falling back on fire, but it's a dreadful effect watching it on TV. Instead of being a light spectacular, it just looks mostly underlit. It could be Drake who's just joined her onstage, but it's virtually impossible to see.
The dancers have gone to dance amongst the tables, but they're giving a vibe of 'Britain keeps its chin up during the power cuts'.
9.18
Nick Grimshaw and Cheryl are coming on to do the breakthrough act. "It's quite an important award" says Nick. Quite important.
Years & years v Wolf Alice v Jess Glynne v Catfish and the Bottlemen v James Bay
"We were getting distacted by Keith Lemon" says Nick before announcing Cuttlefish and The Bobblehats have won the prize. It's not often you find yourself wishing Keith Lemon hadn't given up so easily, is it?
9.21
Catfish at least keep their speech short. They, naturally, fail to find the camera.
Tim Peake is going to present an award from the space station, which is mainly done to allow Ant and Dec to do a "it's not rocket science joke".
This is the global award, which goes to Adele for being lovely and remaining human.
Tim says he wishes he could be there to present the award - bloody liar. Nobody, given the choice between being in space or sitting in the O2 watching Chris Martin gurn.
Adele is clearly swearing a bit. ITV don't really succeed in cutting out the "fuckings". I suspect she has been enjoying the hospitality this evening.
"Tim Peake - I love you and hope you're okay and not too hungry" she concludes.
9.25
Little Mix are about to go on a world tour. I'm suspecting they might be skipping some countries.
Oh, they've got dancers with flaming torches.
They've tried to rework Black Magic as a drums-and-vocals chant, which shows they have ambition if not exactly the talent to pull it off.
I think using dios de la muerte skulls to signify "black magic" shows a deaf ear for cultural sensitivity, too.
9.29
They didn't appear to have thought how to tie together the drumming parts and the pop parts so there was an awkward bit where it was like two songs fighting in a car park.
Ant and Dec apologise for Adele's swearing. Although in twenty years whoever is organising the Brits will be saying it's one his favourite moments from the awards history.
9.33
Another break. I suppose at least this year things are zipping along, or as fast as they can when James Bay is making time feel like it's slowed and gone into reverse. I've just noticed they'd already shoved the news to 10.20 even before the thing had started, though. So there's a lot more of this to go.
The video vote has closed. One Direction fans can now close all their laptops.
Fleur East and Craig David are coming on to give out the next prize. They're having a great time, they tell us.
International Female: Meghan Trainor v Courtney Barnett v Lana Del Ray v Bjork v Ariana Grande
The lack of Taylor Swift in this category is bemusing.
Bjork wins, but she can't (be arsed to) be there. She gives a video thank you from underneath some sort of Venusian beekeeper's hat.
9.39
Ant and Dec are trying to honour David Bowie. They can't quite manage it, so they bring Annie Lennox on.
That's Annie Lennox and Simon LeBon tonight - it's like when this was still called the British Rock and Pop Awards.
Lennox stands with a hand behind her back and delivers a nice little speech while the audience behind her looks a bit bored.
"He was truly unique" she says, before announcing he's getting a posthumous Icon Award.
Gary Oldman comes on. Oh, Christ, he's going to make a speech, too.
"How can we pay tribute to a man who, whatever missteps he made, was never boring?"
"Hey, we could slow the ceremony to a crawl for two long speeches of superlatives that never quite get to grips with what made him so special."
"Sold."
9.45
So they clearly thought that Bowie's death warranted a substantial segment. They just didn't come up with anything to fill the segment with.
Bowie's bit in Fire Walk With Me was more animated than this.
I think Gary said that he and Bowie were once standing in a fruit corner. Maybe it was a street corner. He's getting into some very slight anecdotes now.
They're now going to honour him by bringing Lorde on, to play the Lady GaGa role in the "we've just told you nobody could be like him, so here's someone trying to be like him" portion of the evening. At least they've got Bowie's band to do a Bowie on 45 bit.
9.50
Lorde sounds a bit overwhelmed by it all.
Oh, and she's having a sit down now.
The lighting on this is dreadful, too; washed in a red glow (because "Life on Mars", presumably) it just looks like they're trying to develop some holiday snaps while doing the tune.
If they felt they had to do something like this, getting Lorde in - a glance at a baton passing to a new generation - is the least worst way of doing it. Better than inviting a narcissist to over-emote.
The other good thing about this segment is they went straight to ads rather than have Ant & Dec doing a bit.
9.56
Apparently, in the real world, someone's being held hostage in Bella Italia in Leicester Square.
9.58
Back to the Brits. Dec has swapped to a white dinner jacket. I bet Ant comes in a dress.
9.59
Ant comes on in a dress.
Alan Carr and Lianne La Havas are now going to share the winners of the hashtag video vote.
(Meanwhile, a Bieber news account reports that Justin has already left the O2. See, guys, you shouldn't have paid him his cash until the end of the show.)
One Direction win the video prize. Even Alan Carr can't pretend to be surprised by that.
ITV cut to Simon Cowell trying to not look smug.
The remaining members of One Direction say it "really is incredible".
Another performance. It's The Weeknd. This time, the lighting's ok, but the sound is terrible.
10.04
Jesus, Lorde-as-Bowie is already on YouTube. For now.
10.06
Ant and Dec are saying they should have had smoke in one of their links. A joke or two might have been more useful, guys.
Mark Ronson has come on to do a prize giving, but instead starts by swearing about himself. This is the Best album prize.
Coldplay v Adele (the album qualified too? Oh, they fudged the dates didn't they?) v Jamie XX v James Bay v Florence
The winner is Adele. Ronson leaves a dramatic pause, but he needn't have bothered as we all hallucinated the name 'Adele' in the gap.
But the Florence album was better than the Adele one, right?
Ant and Dec are talking to that Jack Garratt who won the - what is it called? - person most likely to have gone to the Brits School prize. James Bay is also at the table. If the camera pans back, you can see they've been given colouring sheets and crayons to keep them busy during the evening.
Another break, even though there's only one performance left.
10.16
We've had a preview of Adele's dress for the final performance. It's a lovely dress.
Time for one more bit from Ant and Dec. They don't do any gags in it.
So, what have we learned?
Adele is that rare thing: a person who scoops up all the awards and, even though she might not have actually been the very best in each category, she feels like a compromise everyone can get behind. That's quite special.
Half the Bowie tribute actually worked quite well; Lorde was probably one of few artists who sat at the nexus of 'good enough to do it, famous enough to do it, not too famous to overshadow it'. The other half, though clearly well-meant, felt like something the BAFTAs would have rejected as feeling out of pace with a modern awards show.
The person who was responsible for lighting most of the performances didn't appear to realise it was going to be going out on television.
When they weren't giving awards to Adele, they might as well have burned the bloody things.
Coldplay are now never going to bloody go away, are they?
10.25
They close with a highlights package, which is effectively James Bay over and over again.
10.30
And finally... Ticketmaster appear to think Elton John had died:
Miranda Sawyer delivered a sympathetic interview with Chris Moyles for yesterday's Observer; she was firm with him and, for his part, he came across warmer than he has for quite a while. Although he still tried to skip the difficult questions:
I ask him about being involved in a tax avoidance scheme, and he gets frustrated again. He gives me a very long explanation that boils down to: he thought it was OK and it turned out it wasn’t and he paid it back in full.
Yeah. Because if you're claiming tax for being a second-hand car salesperson, and you don't sell cars, what possible reason for thinking it might be dodgy could there be?
Sawyer talks about sexuality, and his apparent problems with it, and as in the past he reaches for his transgender friend as proof that he can't possibly be homophobic. He's tried this tack in the past, and has been derided for such an obvious "some of my best friends are..." pitch; but he seems to have come up with an answer for that:
“I’m not homophobic, but what can I say about that?” he says. “Whatever I say sounds like ‘some of my best friends are black’. Christ almighty, one of my best friends came out a couple of years ago as transgender. Simon is now Steph, which is fine. But I don’t know what to say about that. Because if I say the wrong thing, I’ll be crucified in Leicester Square.”
The trouble is, having gay friends doesn't 'prove' that you're not gay; not really knowing the difference between transgender people and gay people doesn't entirely make the case any stronger.
Let's just remind ourselves of Moyles' Will Young joke, shall we?
During the imitation the presenter adopted an effeminate and high pitched
voice.
When singing his alternative version of ‘Evergreen’, Chris Moyles broadcast the
lyrics: “It’s my birthday, gonna wear my new dress tonight. And I smell nice. I’ve had
a shower and I’ve shaved my legs. Going out later, might go to Nob-oooh for dinner.”
During the alternative version of ‘Leave Right Now’, Chris Moyles broadcast the
lyrics: “Oooh Will Young here, mmmmh. I’m here, it’s Will’s birthday and as the years
go by I get more very gay. When you saw me years ago you didn’t know, but now I’m
the gayest fella you probably know. mmm I like to wear a silly hat, I get camper by
the hour, oh would you look at the muck in here. I’m Will Young and I’m gay.”
But it's okay, because he's got one friend who is a transgender person.
I think all that really proves, Chris, is that Steph is more tolerant than you are.
Matchbox 20's Rob Thomas is off on a tour of Australia right now. Although he nearly had to come back straight away after "making a joke":
“I keep drinking until I think I’m a black Australian”.
Considering there's such a serious alcohol problem amongst Indigenous Australains that it's the main cause of a horrifying death rate amongst the group, if Thomas had known quite what he was saying, that would be career-endingly shameful.
“I said I drank until I thought I was Australian. Then I drank so much that I thought I was a black Australian and then I drank so much I thought I was a little Australian girl.
“These were 3 things I chose at random to represent 3 things I’m not. I’m not Australian. I’m not black and I’m not a little girl.”
Thomas said that had he known there was a “connection between the indigenous peoples of Australia and a stereotype involving drinking” he would have chosen another example.
“I was so ignorant to the situation that when I heard people groan I actually thought THEY were being racist. I didn’t know until TODAY that just the phrase ‘black Australian’ was racist all on it’s own. (sic)
“I sat in my room and I cried when I found out.”
Thomas said he was “truly sorry” for how the joke was delivered, “most of all to the indigenous people here”.
That seems heartfelt, and genuine. It's what contrition looks like.
He had the grace to admit he got things wrong, and to apologise.
Let's move on.
Except... to play the Columbo 'one last thing' card...
Leaving aside the specific Australian angle, we're still left with something difficult.
In trying to conjure up something different to himself, Thomas thought of a black man.
Now, he could have said he'd drunk so much he thought he was a dragon, or Napoleon, or a teapot, or the singer in a half-decent band. There's a lot of things that are completely unlike him.
But instead, the most distant thing he can come up with from himself is a black man.
Yeah, I suspect it's true that Thomas doesn't have much idea how far the experiences of typical black men - American or Australian - differ from his life. That might be the problem, Rob.
And a quick aside: even without the awkward race angle, going on stage and talking about how much you've drunk isn't an act; it's a stag party organised by bores.
James Bay - who clearly is never going to take the hat off, is he? Like a BHS version of Jamiroquai - is caught in war of words with Lily Allen.
Yeah, it's a bit like the European Union Referendum, in that whoever is in the right you're still going to end up in a group that makes you feel uncomfortable.
The story so far is that Allen has looked at the shortlist for this year's awards, and noticed that being white and being nominated appears to correlate quite closely.
He first picks up on Allen's claim that the shortlist could have been put together by Alan Partridge:
“I haven’t seen REO Speedwagon in the nominations, so I don’t know if it’s entirely Partridge."
That sort of pedantic-but-missing-the-point response is, in itself, a perfect Partridge - it's "I've got a hundred and four friends".
It’s varied nominations. It’s about music. I don’t know why she’s had to go down that route.
"I haven’t looked closely into all the nominations but it’s interesting she should bring that up."
James, there, happily claiming the nominations are are varied while admitting that he hasn't "looked closely" at them. It's like claiming all the tracks on Bay's album are wheezy half-baked nursery rhymes without having listened to closely to them.
What's more disappointing though, is that Bay's response to a not unreasonable complaint about a lack of diversity in the nominations is to say "I don't know why she's had to go down that route."
"That route", eh, James? Why's she had to point out that the shortlist seems only interested in what the white kids are doing?
James appears to believe that "it's music" is enough to explain why so very, very few black musicians have been deemed good enough to get a place on the shortlist. That's a very bad look, James. You're effectively saying "hey, if some black acts had managed to make a decent record, their music would have lifted them onto the shortlist". By trying to insist the Brits shortlist is colourblind, you're just dismissing black artists in the same way the Brits panel has done.
Still, James isn't going to get into that - he's going to attack Allen directly instead:
"I can’t think of her last album, when she last released something.”
Yeah, it's true that Allen hasn't released a record in 2015, but she did in 2014, and it went straight to number one. It's not like she's Wendy James.
More importantly, you shouldn't need to have had a hit single in the last twelve months to call the Brits out on this.
And, although Lily hasn't always been above criticism for her actions not meeting her words in the past, if the best response to 'why is this list so white' you can come up with is 'you haven't had an album out in 18 months', you might be better off shutting up.
What a grim start to the year it's been, with legends and heroes dying left and right. Yesterday, Vi Subversa of The Poison Girls died. Here's how her son, Pete Fender, told the world via Facebook:
It is with deep sorrow that I have to announce the mourning of my wonderful mum Frances Sokolov, known to many as Vi Subversa, who has passed away peacefully following a short illness.
We know that her death will come as a shock. Vi had recently celebrated her 80th birthday and only a few short weeks ago gave what was to be her final performance.
Vi led an extraordinary life in a variety of fields, but was no doubt best known as the lead singer, lyricist and rhythm guitarist in Poison Girls.
She was a key figure to a lot of people and we know that there will be a great many who would wish to pay tribute to her music and words, as well as to her remarkable achievements in life.
We know too that she would want this to happen.
We are holding a private funeral for her close friends and family, and naturally there will be a public event to celebrate her life and work later in the year. We, her family, ask that our need for privacy be respected during this very difficult time.
We are confident that Vi would not wish her friends and fans to overindulge in sadness. We all feel that her life was complete and should be celebrated. She made it to the milestone, and her time had come. Flesh and blood is what we are.
There is, of course, due process. There is, of course, innocent until proven guilty. There are safeguards, which should work for both sides in a case.
But how does Sony Records find itself in a courtroom, arguing that a woman who claims to have been raped and abused should be forced to remain working for her alleged rapist? How does anyone from Sony suck a thoughtful tooth and go "well, we've only got her word that she's been raped by him, so we should probably keep her to her contract. Even if we have to take this to court"?
Even if you were part of Sony, and didn't believe Kesha; even if you were part of Sony, and believed Kesha but didn't really care. Even then. How would you think that marching into court to try and force her to work with Dr Luke would be the right thing to do?
Buzzfeed's Mary Georgantopoulos was following the case for Buzzfeed. How she was able to tweet with her head in her hands is a minor miracle in itself.
When Kesha's lawyers argued that Sony's offer to keep her in the contract to Dr Luke's vanity label but not work with Luke was meaningless because Sony would just bury any of her work:
Judge: You’re asking me to presume an entity like Sony, who is in competitive position ... will not want to make money on their investment.
Oh, Judge. You've not been round the music industry, or indeed corporations, long, have you? Here in Milton Keynes, there's a supermarket which stands empty while Sainsburys pay rent of a million quid a year on it. They're paying the rent to stop anyone else making money in the unit. That's how corporations work. The suggestion that Sony might spite-lock an artist isn't really so outlandish, is it?
This week, the NME awards were doled out; this week's print edition of the magazine tries to make sense of them.
The awards are possibly a transitional moment, covering a period where the weekly went free, and took on an editorial direction ever less about music; moving closer to the mainstream. Last year, prizes went to Royal Blood, Foo Fighters, Alex Turner and Kasabian. There was a clear sense of what an NME band sounded like.
This year's winners... well, they're a little different:
Best British Band: The Maccabees
Best International Band: Run The Jewels
Best New Artist: Rat Boy
Best British Solo Artist: Charli XCX
Best International Solo Artist: Taylor Swift
Best Live Band: Wolf Alice
Best Album: What Went Down - Foals
Best Track: Giant Peach - Wolf Alice
Best TV: This Is England '90
Best Film: Beasts Of No Nation
Best Music Film: Blur: New World Towers
Best Music Video: Cheer Up London - Slaves
Best Actor: Idris Elba
Best Actress: Vicky McClure
Best Reissue: Five Years - David Bowie
Best Book - M Train - Patti Smith
Best Festival - Glastonbury
Best Small Festival - End Of The Road
Music Moment Of The Year - The Libertines "secret" Glastonbury set
Best Fan Community - The Libertines
Worst Bad: 5 Seconds Of Summer
Villain Of The Year: Donald Trump
Hero Of The Year: Dave Grohl
Vlogger Of The Year: KSI
(Just in passing, how come actors are split into categories based on gender and solo artists aren't?)
It's the solo artists who stick out - in a month where NME's covers have run through James Bay, Kanye West and Coldplay, Charli and Taylor seem much more in keeping with where the title is heading than Wolf Alice and Foals. They feel like an echo of where the title was before, when it charged an entry fee that few were interested in paying.
This makes for difficulties for the awards, though - remember, these used to be styled the Brats and positioned themselves as an alternative to the Brits. Even before NME became the sort of magazine which would put James Bay on the cover, the distinction was blurred, but if the endeavour survives another twelve months it's likely the NME Awards/Brits relationship will become more like the BAFTAs/Oscars one - the former a lower budget version of the latter, taking place a couple of weeks before, and serving no real purpose other than letting bookies set the odds for the main events.
This year, though, we find ourselves in the awkward position of the magazine having to send a prize designed for rebellious shouty rock upstarts to Taylor Swift. Her reaction:
I got the award in the mail and I gotta be honest with you about this, when you first open up the box this feels a little aggressive.
Yeah. That's the sound of worlds colliding.
Coldplay picked up the Godlike Genius award - I know, I know - and in the accompanying interview, Chris Martin shares his favourite moment of being a popstar. This was playing Michael J Fox's Parkinson Benefit, and getting Fox to join them onstage to recreate the moment from Back To The Future when Marty plays guitar at the 1950s prom.
That's telling. The worst part of the entire Back To The Future trilogy is the point where the invention of the boisterous, brilliant cacophony of rock is taken away from Chuck Berry and reassigned to a pasty-faced white kid from the suburbs. And the peak of Chris Martin's musical career has been recreating the creation myth of a deracinated rock music.
The Grammys took place last night - yeah, on a Monday for some reason. I suppose that makes it unlikely that the night would clash with any other awards ceremony, because who holds an awards ceremony on a Monday night?
Taylor Swift's 1989 took best album, a reminder of just how bloody slow the Grammys awards are in the modern world (it came out in October 2014).
Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud was judged to have been the best song of the year, and no amount of crowd-pleasing attempts to balance that out by prizes for Uptown Funk can disguise that prize alone shows Grammy judges don't really like music at all.
Here's all the winners:
Album of the Year
1989, Taylor Swift
Song of the Year
"Thinking Out Loud," Ed Sheeran and Amy Wadge
Record of the Year
"Uptown Funk," Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars
Best Rap Album
To Pimp a Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar
Best Country Album
Traveler, Chris Stapleton
Best Musical Theater Album
Hamilton
Best Rap Performance
"Alright," Kendrick Lamar
Best Rap Song
"Alright," Kendrick Lamar
Best Rap/Sung Collaboration
"These Walls," Kendrick Lamar featuring Bilal, Anna Wise, and Thundercat
Best Rock Performance
"Don't Wanna Fight," Alabama Shakes
Best Music Video
"Bad Blood," Taylor Swift featuring Kendrick Lamar
Best New Artist
Meghan Trainor
Producer of the Year, Non-Classical
Jeff Bhasker
Best Country Song
"Girl Crush," Hillary Lindsey, Lori McKenna, and Liz Rose (Little Big Town)
Best Country Solo Performance
"Traveller," Chris Stapleton
Best Country Duo/Group Performance
"Girl Crush," Little Big Town
Best Pop Vocal Album
Taylor Swift, 1989
Best Pop Solo Performance
"Thinking Out Loud," Ed Sheeran
Best Rock Album
Drones, Muse
Best Alternative Album
Sound & Color, Alabama Shakes
Best Rock Performance
"Don't Wanna Fight," Alabama Shakes
Best Rock Song
"Don't Wanna Fight," Alabama Shakes
Best Pop Duo/Group Performance
"Uptown Funk," Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars
Best Metal Performance
"Cirice," Ghost
Best Traditional Pop Vocal Album
"The Silver Lining: The Songs of Jerome Kern," Tony Bennett and Bill Charlap
Best Traditional R&B Performance
"Little Ghetto Boy," Lalah Hathaway
Best Dance/Electronic Album
Skrillex and Diplo Present Jack Ü, Skrillex and Diplo
Best Dance Recording
"Where Are Ü Now," Skrillex and Diplo with Justin Bieber
Remixed Recording, Non-Classical
"Uptown Funk (Dave Audé Remix)," Dave Audé (Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars)
Best Urban Contemporary Album
Beauty Behind the Madness, the Weeknd
Best Comedy Album
Live at Madison Square Garden, Louis CK
Best R&B Album
Black Messiah, D'Angelo and the Vanguard
Best R&B Song
"Really Love," D'Angelo and Kendra Foster
Best R&B Performance
"Earned It (Fifty Shades of Grey)," the Weeknd
Best Blues Album
Born to Play Guitar, Buddy Guy
Best Folk Album
Béla Fleck and Abigail Washburn, Béla Fleck and Abigail Washburn
Best Reggae Album
Strictly Roots, Morgan Heritage
Best New Age Album
"Grace," Paul Avgerinos
Best Surround Sound Album
"Amused to Death," James Guthrie and Joel Plante (Roger Waters)
Best Score Soundtrack for Visual Media
Birdman, Antonio Sanchez
Best Song Written for Visual Media
"Glory," performed by Common and John Legend
Best Music Film
Amy, Amy Winehouse; Asif Kapadia, video director; James Gay-Rees, video producer
Best Compilation Soundtrack for Visual Media
Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me
Best Spoken Word Album
A Full Life: Reflections at Ninety, Jimmy Carter
Contemporary Instrumental Album
"Sylva," Snarky Puppy and Metropole Orkest
Best Improvised Jazz Solo
"Cherokee," Christian McBride
Best Jazz Vocal Album
"For One to Love," Cécile McLorin Salvant
Best Jazz Instrumental Album
"Past Present," John Scofield
Best Large Jazz Ensemble Album
"The Thompson Fields," Maria Schneider Orchestra
Best Children's Album
"Home," Tim Kubart
Best World Music Album
"Sings," Angelique Kidjo
Best Regional Roots Music Album
"Go Go Juice," Jon Cleary
Best Bluegrass Album
"The Muscle Shoals Recordings," The Steeldrivers
Best Americana Album
"Something More Than Free," Jason Isbell
Best American Roots Song
"24 Frames," Jason Isbell
Best American Roots Performance
"See That My Grave Is Kept Clean," Mavis Staples
Best Latin Pop Album
"A Quien Quiera Escuchar (Deluxe Edition)," Ricky Martin
Best Tropical Latin Album
"Son De Panamá," Rubén Blades with Roberto Delgado and Orchestra
Best Latin Rock, Urban or Alternative Album
TIE: "Hasta la Raíz," Natalia Lafourcade and "Dale," Pitbull
Best Regional Mexican Music Album
"Realidades, Deluxe Edition," Los Tigres Del Norte
Best Roots Gospel Album
"Still Rockin' My Soul," the Fairfield Four
Best Contemporary Christian Album
"This Is Not a Test," Tobymac
Best Gospel Album
"Covered: Alive in Asia [Live] (Deluxe)," Israel & Newbreed
Best Historical Album
"The Basement Tapes Complete: The Bootleg Series Vol. 11," Bob Dylan and the Band
Best Contemporary Christian Music Performance/Song
"Holy Spirit," Francesca Battistelli
Best Engineered Album, Classical
"Ask Your Mama," Leslie Ann Jones, John Kilgore, Nora Kroll-Rosenbaum, and Justin Merrill, engineers; Patricia Sullivan, mastering engineer (George Manahan and San Francisco Ballet Orchestra)
"Love Has Many Faces: A Quartet, A Ballet, Waiting to Be Danced," Joni Mitchell, (Joni Mitchell)
Best Orchestral Performance
"Shostakovich: Under Stalin's Shadow — Symphony No. 10," Andris Nelsons, conductor (Boston Symphony Orchestra)
Best Opera Recording
"Ravel: L'Enfant Et Les Sortilèges; Shéhérazade," Seiji Ozawa, conductor; Isabel Leonard; Dominic Fyfe, producer (Saito Kinen Orchestra; SKF Matsumoto Chorus and SKF Matsumoto Children's Chorus)
Best Choral Performance
"Beethoven: Missa Solemnis," Bernard Haitink, conductor; Peter Dijkstra, chorus master (Anton Barachovsky, Genia Kühmeier, Elisabeth Kulman, Hanno Müller-Brachmann, and Mark Padmore; Symphonieorchester Des Bayerischen Rundfunks; Chor Des Bayerischen Rundfunks)
Best Chamber Music/Small Ensemble Performance
"Brahms: The Piano Trios," Tanja Tetzlaff, Christian Tetzlaff, and Lars Vogt
Something to remember when the claims about how the Brits put British music in front of the world are made over the next fortnight.
In the US, this year's awards are being aired on Fuse. Which is lovely for them, but even at their strongest performances struggle to reach audiences on the higher side of a million. (And those million-plus moments have been achieved by moving away from music programming into reality shows; it's unlikely the audience who have embraced those shows are going to be tuning in to see Jack Garratt picking up a prize.)
Not only had Styles not asked, but he hadn't even bothered to credit Scagnetti.
Scagnetti was obviously upset to see his work getting so much praise while nobody knew it was his work, so took to Facebook to complain:
750,000 like - but I don't like it. I'm interested to see who is this guy that published my picture and got 750.000 likes, without even mentioning my name," said Ezequiel on the popular social network.
The One Direction hive mind detected this criticism of Harry Styles, and swarmed into attack.
Like good little corporate citizens, they told Ezequiel he should be thrilled and delighted that his work had pleased Styles; why, they would kill for Harry to share their photos. He should chill.
And if berating the man wasn't enough, they then started to give fake reviews for his photography business.
Oh, and that's not even touching on the homophobic and racist nature of some of the abuse.
"Why don't you sue him" said some; Ezequiel explained, patiently, that this wasn't about money:
#harrystyles maladroitness is not a real reason for me to sue him (you guys invented it), he is not the first publishing my work without permission and without previous agreement.
But you should understand that I have the right to do it if I want. And I have the right to be upset.
I am a rich man, but of another kind of richness, by doing professional pictures, I earn enough to feed my wife and my 2 kids, and that’s all I need.
You see guys, we have different values; success for you is to be famous, to have "likes" in Facebook or to be a pop singer, success for me is raising my family with dignity.
Even more patiently, he explained that it wasn't even about copyright:
Most of you (the ones insulting me) are damned because this: you are not able to understand people who think different than you.
I’m not talking about the lack of knowledge or simple ignorance in subjects as photography, arts, copyright, etc. You are completely lost on those subjects and that’s fine for me, you are kids.
I'm talking about your petty and narrow mind.
You are so narrow-minded that you think that my centre of interest, at my forties, must be a pop band and a -certainly-, nice guy called Harry Styles.
Well... I’m currently following with attention the problem of millions of Syrian refugees living in horrible conditions, dying in the Mediterranean Sea running away from war and terrorism.
I am busy reading some articles about the geopolitical impact of the agreement between USA and Iran concerning the Uranium issue.
But I also worry of the latest terrorist attacks in Paris, Brussels, Tunisia, Mali, Pakistan, to name but a few, and all this bunch of innocent people dying every day in the hands of insane people.
But you blame me because I did not know who is #harrystyles. Great.
He might not know who Harry Styles is. But, boy, does he know what Styles' fans are like.
Can you tell what the story is from this Sun headline?
Yes, it's 'idiots complain because they can't tell the difference between a fake fur hat and a real one'.
Although The Sun might give the impression that it's 'Cerys Matthews wears rabbit hat for piece on Watership Down'.
To be fair, if you scroll far enough down through the online Sun's new layout, you do get to the truth of the story:
Last night a BBC spokeswoman insisted the hat was not real fur.
She said: “We have just spoken to Cerys to double check and it 100 per cent was not a real fur hat.”
She added: “Cerys has confirmed she would not be seen wearing real fur.”
I say "to be fair", what I actually mean is "although the Sun ends its piece with a paragraph that proves the complaints to be spurious, it still dresses the story in a great big furry implication that they aren't."
To be fair, you have to respect the inclusion of Tunes Splits The Atom. But... The Las?
Some of Louise's twitter followers pointed out that Liverpool and Manchester - while both being part of Dear George Osborne's Northern (John) Powerhouse - are different places.
Mensch, of course, has never found a hole she doesn't want to dig deeper into.
Oh stop twisting my melons man about the Las being scousers. Their sound was pure madchester sorry https://t.co/0it0x2TXWO
Unless you were from a major label trying to pull together a quick Madchester compilation cash-in album and needed to pad it out, like the Sorted! Madchester and Baggy album, but that even includes Shine On by The House Of Love. Much has been said about Guy Chadwick, but I don't think he's ever been painted as a musical peer of Northside.
Oh, MySpace. Yes, it's still going, just about, and it's just been sold on again - I'm imagining at a car boot sale, in a box along with twenty old LPs and a broken lamp, under the "give me two quid and the lot's yours, pal."
Though MySpace is a shadow of its former self, Viant claims to have data from 1 billion registered users. Time and Viant say they plan to combine that data with its own subscriber information, providing it with a pool of data which it claims “rivals industry leaders Facebook and Google”.
Buying MySpace for its user data is a bit like buying an empty milk bottle to discover what cows smell like. Unless Time is going to be fine-tuning all its content to appeal to Tom.
Poor right-wingers. There they were, enjoying their Superbowls, probably chuckling a little - "look, someone on Twitter has posted a picture of an owl with a monocle because it's a superb owl" and then Beyonce happened.
Pretzels were spat out. Hot dogs dashed to ground. Amusing pictures of owls wearing top hats went unretweeted as the very LOLZ went out of the moment.
Beyonce had brought politics into the Superbowl. And that isn't allowed. How can you sully a sporting event by turning it into a political platform?
Well, obviously that would be different.
But you can't have the NFL's showcase being used to promote an ideology, can you?
The NFL reportedly accepted millions of dollars from the defence department over the course of three years in exchange for honouring troops and veterans before games, the New Jersey Star Ledger reports.
The Pentagon reportedly signed contracts with 14 NFL teams — including the New York Jets, the Indianapolis Colts and the Baltimore Ravens — between 2011-2012 stipulating that teams would be paid sums ranging from $US60,000-$US1 million each (in federal taxpayer money) to pause before the start of games and salute the city’s “hometown heroes,” according to nj.com.
Well, obviously, that would be different, probably.
Former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani blasted Beyoncé’s Black Panther Party tribute at the Super Bowl, calling the performance an “attack [on] police officers.”
“I thought that she used it as a platform to attack police officers, who are the people who protect her and protect us and keep us alive,” Giuliani said Monday on Fox and Friends.
“What we should be doing, in the African-American community and in all communities, is build up respect for police officers and focus on the fact that when something does go wrong, okay, we’ll work on that,” Giuliani said.
Yeah, come on Beyonce, what more do you want? If the police accidentally choke a black man to death, or shoot him dead, Rudy's saying they'll certainly add it to some sort of list of things they need to think about. Let's not suggest that police need to earn respect rather than be gifted it, right?
Elsewhere on Breitbart - which is pretty much like Craigslist for Americans who believe their income levels means they can have their racism reclassified as "simple common sense" - the inability of the right to hold more than one idea in their minds at a time is displayed in the way they assume nobody else can, either:
But the pop star might have been late to the performance if she hadn’t received a highway-clearing police escort to deliver her to Levi’s Stadium on time.
As some users pointed out on Twitter, police cleared the highway so that Beyoncé could make it to Santa Clara without sitting in pesky game-day traffic
[...]
But during the Super Bowl halftime show, the pop star performed a full-scale tribute to Black Lives Matter and the militant, anti-law enforcement Black Panthers, with her backup dancers clad in Panther uniforms with fists raised in the “black power” salute.
[...]
Needless to say, social media users were eager to weigh in on the pop star’s apparent hypocrisy.
Needless to say.
The possibility that you can see that some police behaving badly and out of control doesn't mean that all police officers are like that doesn't exist in the minds of Breitbart, its readers or some social media users, needless to say.
That you can say 'stop shooting us' without it meaning 'I believe that every single police officer will shoot an unarmed black person at the earliest opportunity'.
That Beyonce isn't attacking the police, she's attacking the police for not doing more to ensure that those officers who are trigger-happy, or choke-happy, and, yes, racist as fuck, don't remain within the ranks and when they commit crimes, get punished for those crimes.
That's not hypocrisy. Knowing it isn't hypocritical, but pretending you believe it is? That's actual hypocrisy.
Ellie Goulding sought an interview with David Cameron, the current Prime Minister of some of the United Kingdom. He couldn't find time:
The Starry Eyed singer wanted to meet with David Cameron in her role as patron for the Marylebone Project, which is dedicated to helping homeless women in London.
But the 29-year-old, who has campaigned for vulnerable people since rising to fame, said she and project chief executive Mark Russell were told the PM didn't have the time to meet with them.
She told The Mirror: "We genuinely just wanted a chat to see what his view was on it. We're not trying to confront him.
"Mark reached out to talk about the recent housing bills and received one of those standard letters, so I don't know whether he even saw it or not.
"I can't say at this point that he's not interested, as I don't know if that's the case. It might be that he's looking for an opportunity to do something."
This story might, then, be 'someone in Prime Minister's office sends form reply to letter' but the Belfast Telegraph decided to go with this as the headline:
Ellie Goulding claims snub by David Cameron over women's issues talks
They repeated the "snub" in a photo caption on the story:
Ellie Goulding claims David Cameron snubbed her after she asked to discuss women's issues with him
And the first paragraph of the story also drops the s-bomb:
Pop star Ellie Goulding said she was snubbed by the Prime Minister after asking to discuss women's issues with him.
The only thing is, she doesn't actually say, or claim, that she was snubbed - just says, with an air of reasonableness, that no meeting was arranged and Dave probably didn't even have anything to do with it.
It's not quite as bad as the claims that circulated this week suggesting she used IV drips rather than food as some sort of diet fad. But it's still unfair. It's even unfair on bloody Cameron, and anything that makes you feel sympathy for the Grinning Pauper-kickbot has to be a bad thing.
Sonu Nigam was on a chartered flight, and encouraged to sing a song or two over the PA system. He obliged.
Trouble is, nowadays if things like that happen, it gets shared on the net, and people hear about it. Including the safety regulators of Indian flights. They're not happy, and have called in the executives from Jet, the airline involved, to ask why a safety tool was being used as an entertainment platform.
Jet, in the face of a potential punishment for letting this happen, have had to take action; and so they've suspended the flight crew involved to try and head that off by looking like they're taking it seriously.
In a statement, Nigam Friday said, “I have witnessed an elaborate fashion show in an aircraft. I have heard of small concerts happening in aircraft. I have seen pilots and crew members cracking jokes to loosen up passengers in other countries, which is so cool. To suspend crew members for asking me to sing on the address system, when the seat belt signs were off, and no announcements were to be made, is nothing less than punishing someone for spreading happiness.” “Pity there’s no one to question such harshness except the media perhaps. Indians, need to loosen up. This act of lack of common sense, according to me, is real intolerance,” he added.
It's real intolerance, people. Punishing people for spreading happiness. I mean, under what circumstances might you suddenly need to make a cabin announcement on a plane, right? That hardly ever happens. That people survive to tell you about, anyway.
Point of fact: 2016 marks a new year for everyone. That's pretty much how new years work.
A year of hope, optimism, and most importantly, new music! We are immensely proud of all that we have been able to share with you over the years. Music, music, music. We very much want to continue doing that, but that’s going to take a little help from all of you.
As you know, prior to the untimely passing of our brother in arms, Scott, we had been working with the incomparable Chester Bennington. What you also likely know is that having Chester front two bands of this size and scope was too much for one man to be able to do and so regretfully we had to move onto a new chapter together. This is where you come in…
Let's just look at that sentence there again, shall we?
What you also likely know is that having Chester front two bands of this size and scope was too much for one man to be able to do and so regretfully we had to move onto a new chapter together.
Let's look at it again.
What you also likely know is that having Chester front two bands of this size and scope was too much for one man to be able to do and so regretfully we had to move onto a new chapter together.
That's three times we've read that sentence, which is figure is at least six times more than it was read before it was published.
We are officially announcing that we are seeking a new vocalist to front Stone Temple Pilots. We’ve already heard from many talented people, but want to make this an opportunity for many more so we’ve set up a way for you to do just that.
This is the reverse of when someone calls a place to tell them they've got a bunch of fantastic job offers but just wanted to see if you're hiring right now to give you an opportunity to get on board.
"Hey, look at all these talented people who want to front our band"
"We should definitely see if there are any other talented people who want to front our band by putting a message on the internet".
Number one: because it's effectively patting Taylor Swift on the head and saying 'shush now about streaming sites only making you a tiny, tiny bit richer';
Number two: because when was the last time you even remembered Tidal even existed?
Hats off to her for coming up with an advertising campaign for a dying platform in which she's invested while making it look like she doesn't care about money. It's evil, but stylishly evil.
Phil Anselmo's Nazi salute and "white power" cry during a Dimebag Darrell memorial hasn't gone down well - and perhaps the best thing about this whole story has been the way metal fans have called him out on it.
Attempt number one was to try and claim he was making a reference to the wine being served backstage:
He claimed at first he had been making a joke about the white wine served to performers at the event, who included Dave Grohl and members of Metallica, and said: “I fucking love everyone, I fucking loathe everyone, and that’s that. No apologies from me.”
In a lot of ways, that's probably a worse claim than the original - everyone expects Anselmo to spout Nazi bollocks, but suggesting that he was organising a protest against the backstage spritzers paints a picture of what happens when entitlement collides with too much time on a person's hands.
Still, he's realised that "I was taking wine" wasn't going to work, and he's now issued a statement:
Philip H Anselmo here, and I’m here to basically respond to all the heat I’ve been getting that I deserve completely.
“I was at the Dimebash, and it was extremely late at night. There was heavy-duty talk between myself and those who love Dime. And heavy emotions were flowing, jokes were made backstage that transpired upon the stage, and it was ugly. It was uncalled for. And anyone who knows me and my true nature knows that I don’t believe in any of that; I don’t want to be part of any group. I’m an individual, and I am a thousand percent apologetic to anyone that took offence to what I said because you should have taken offence to what I said. And I am so sorry, and I hope you just … man, give me another chance to … just give me another chance. I love all of you. And anyone who’s met me, anyone who knows me knows that I love all of you. Bless you.”
This might have worked if he'd not tried to pass it all off as vinicultural humour a couple of days earlier.
Two great problems lurk in this apology, though: the first being that jokes from backstage were "transpiring" on stage, which suggests that other performers might have been having a third-reich yukfest and only Anselmo was gauche enough to take his Hitlerian hijinks the wrong side of the curtain.
The second is that he seems to be pleading with us to believe he couldn't be a Nazi because he's not the sort of guy who joins things.
No, Phil. We'd want to know you're not a Nazi because Nazism is an odious skunk of a political ideology, not because you'd find it a faff to have to turn up to meetings and maintain your membership fees.
He was sort-of-right; turns out it's going to be ELO not LEO.
Or, rather, whatever the legally allowable format of the Electric Light Orchestra is these days - Jeffy Lyne's Electrish Light Orchestra or something like that.
Arriving back in the UK from a weekend in Amsterdam, on a TV screen glimpsed through a security window was a grinning, waving Terry Wogan. We already knew, of course - this is the 21st Century and you don't have to wait anymore until the news, on the hour, with James Alexander Gordon, to find out what's going on.
My Mum loved Radio 2, or at least loved it enough to be able to listen to it during the day, and much of my early musical experience came from 233 and 330 (less so Stereo VHF). Both Waggoner's' Walks, Diddy David Hamilton, Pete Murray, Jimmy Young and, every breakfast, Terry Wogan. This was his first run of breakfast shows - the era of Pru Forrest, JR, and suggesting that Super Trouper claims Abba were making telephone calls from Tesco. It seemed to be at the time that doing the breakfast show on Radio 2 must surely be the most desirable job in the world.
Along with Ribena and fried eggs, Wogan was how I woke up every morning - calming and reassuring, especially on those mornings when my eyes had gummed themselves shut and I'd come to in panic and fear. He was the very model of avuncularity and, although my tastes moved on, I'll miss knowing he's around.
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