Because sometimes, you just have to.
(Yes, I know it’s not about poultry. But that interpretation is funnier.)
Because sometimes, you just have to.
(Yes, I know it’s not about poultry. But that interpretation is funnier.)
Likelihood of Trent being allowed into the Vanity Fair post-Oscar party after picking up the Best Soundtrack statue for ‘The Social Network’: 97.6%. Image: Getty Images, Daylife.
How exactly did Trent Reznor go from being a serial killer in waiting to the darling of the mainstream movie soundtrack? Did he undergo a personality bypass, or did we?
I’ve really been trying, but I’m yet to be horrified and offended by the new John Lewis advert.
I diligently availed myself of the anger directed towards Morrissey for allowing the retailer to use The Smith’s track ‘Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want’ in their seasonal ad campaign. I purposefully sat down in front of the TV when it came on, fully prepared to begin shouting ‘sell out’ and accusing him of not being a ‘proper’ vegetarian because Waitrose sell meat/that the song is a ‘hymn’ and belongs to the fans/blah blah blah de blah.
I saw it as a real opportunity to unleash some of the ire I had been assiduously storing up for when I do my Christmas shopping.
Sadly, instead of the warm contentment one generally gleans from deconstructing the decision of a cultural icon, I just ended up feeling a bit like I’d been the victim of a massive, media-fuelled, utterly pointless, marketing campaign.
Bit like Christmas, really.
Because Brian Molko walked past me in a corridor once.
I’m pretty sure he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.
Could someone help me please? I’m having a mandolin moment.
A grotesque, overblown mockery of what was once a reasonably credible cultural icon. And an MTV European Music Award.
Image: AFP PHOTO/PETER MUHLY.
So why is it that when I get the bus, it’s full of verbally abusive youths with their trackies stuffed into their socks and the incontinent elderly?
I’m so sick of popular culture lying to me.
I can hear you talking all over it, so I was thinking maybe we should just sing an Usher song, or something.
Canadian rock moppet Sara Quin threatens an unruly crowd with a cruel and unusual punishment if they don’t shut up during her band’s performance of ‘My Number’ in a Toronto record store.
Hit ’em fast and hit ’em hard, ladies.
This was filmed in 2008, so in internet terms is collecting its pension. But banter and barbed repartee is always worthy of another look, especially when it descends into name calling and pursed lips.
If you remain unconvinced, try Alan Partridge’s Bush megamix. It might not be the most reverent exploration of her work but I find it very hard to believe Kate Bush herself didn’t crack up when she saw his interpretation of ‘Wuthering Heights.’
Genius.
Someone, as a matter of urgency, needs to write an eighties action serial drama starring Lee Majors, so that this can be the theme tune.