Wednesday, February 20, 2008
After my post here about the abomination that is Mark Ronson (scroll down a bit), it is with a crushing, deeply depressing inevitability that I could only watch, powerless, as the man scooped best British male at the unwatchable debacle that is the Brit Awards tonight. So there you have it, people - the future of British music is Mr Ronson and his endlessly irritating karaoke "Versions" which will no doubt haunt me every time I happen to be near the vicinity of a clothes shop / HMV / pub with jukebox / working-man's cafe / [insert random establishment here], especially now that it has the seal of approval that comes with winning an award. Ronson's a serious artist now, you see. The horror, the horror: in the midst of this mediocre wank-fest there followed a "medley" - never a good thing - of him performing a Coldplay tune with his "friends" including Adele and Amy Winehouse, before moving onto "Valerie" and other inoffensive Radio 1-lite nonsense, while simultaneously playing a double-necked guitar, as if you are somehow watching the reincarnation of Jimmy Page. If you want a vision of the future, imagine endless Mark Ronson's stamping on the face of any inventive, interesting music - forever.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
...and the picture below sums up just how stylish some of the city's bars are. Then again, amongst the beautiful canals, grand buildings, and lovely tram system (when is Oxford Street going to have some?), there was always the above..."speed bumps", apparently.