Do Me Bad Thingsâ€™ â€˜Move in Stereoâ€™ sounds like a subdued Scissor Sisters collaborating with eighties pop munchkin Nik - Iâ€™m too cool for the â€˜câ€™ â€“ Kershaw. The bass line is so dated it could have been ripped straight out of a two decades old Eddie Murphy cop flick and it contains a big fuck off cheesy key change. Itâ€™s pure genius. A very close contender for todayâ€™s single of the week - but how it took nine, yes nine, people to produce this song is a mystery. Daniel Beddingfield could have recorded an inferior version in his bedroom studio by himselfâ€¦with just a little help from his horse-faced sister.
â€˜Manifestoâ€™ is the latest offering from roguish Cockney trio, DrinkMe. It makes you want to don a pair of braces, rush down to the East End and bounce up and down on the spot to the dulcet tones of â€˜Rabbit, Rabbitâ€™ before going home, exhausted, for a cup of rosy lee and a ruby murry. This is bubbly, upbeat punk-pop wreathed with synths and spattered with an occasional incredibly high-pitched hollering of the word Manifesto. It's much fun to imitate, â€œManiiiiifestoâ€. Go on try it, â€œManiiiiifestoâ€. Annoy all your friends, â€œManiiiifestoâ€.
Tom Vekâ€™s â€˜C-C (You Set Me On Fire)â€™ is a cheeky little number. On first impressions it seems a bit mediocre, another bog-standard guitar tune but you think to yourself â€œwell Iâ€™ll just have one more listen because it is rather catchyâ€¦â€ You slip it into your CD player for a second, third, fourth then fifth time and before you know it; youâ€™ve listened to it on repeat for six days solid, have Tom Vek tattooed on your left buttock and are the editor of a new fanzine called â€˜Tom Vek saved my life.â€™ Not really. Itâ€™s pretty darn good though.
The music press are currently showering compliments over Hard-Fi like one of those people who talks to close to your face and spits all over you when they get excited. This means that â€˜Hard To Beatâ€™ should be, er, hard to beat. But unfortunately itâ€™s a bit bollocks. Basically a boy band ditty with heavier guitars. The melody is bland pop, the lyrics are shameful: â€œYou had a dirty look, you caught me on your hook, turn up the thermostatâ€¦ I want to see you sweat.â€ We could go on. If this is your kind of thing, try arse-faced McFly instead.
Another magnificent offering from Be Your Own Pet â€“ â€˜Fire Departmentâ€™ is sure to tempt even the most sloth-like of you to the dance floor. Jemina Pearlâ€™s icy fresh vocals cleave through a satisfyingly chunky bass line and rousing drumming and the â€˜Take That Walkâ€™ B-side isnâ€™t half bad either. All this and theyâ€™re still at school. It makes you sick. And this is why they arenâ€™t having single of the week; it serves them right for being too talented.
â€˜Slowly, Slowlyâ€™ is a good effort from ice cream tongued popstrel Bird. The broadsheets posit her next to Dido, even though they sound sod all like each other and she is more a hybrid of Norwayâ€™s Annie and Aussie favourite Natalie Imbruglia. A simple ditty that worms its way unashamedly into your head with no pretence of being anything more or less than a good pop tune. She may be a Bird but sheâ€™s not this weekâ€™s turkey. Ha ha.
Ambulance Ltdâ€™s â€˜Primitive (The Way I Treat You)â€™ isnâ€™t the best track from their debut album â€“ but that doesnâ€™t matter much because theyâ€™re all rather spiffing. This offering, which has been snapped up by American wank-fest the OC, is a mixture of unbelievably cool guitar, laid back drumming and dispassionate vocals: â€œrelax, donâ€™t think about the way I treat youâ€ Congleton orders us. And with that voice you just know that youâ€™d let him get away with anything: â€œRelax, donâ€™t think about the way I just slept with your mother.â€ Oh Marcus, weâ€™re so relaxed we wonâ€™t think about it at allâ€¦
â€˜Sugarâ€™ is Ladytron's first release with their new label, Island records and it's a saccharine electro-pop offering sung by the honey-voiced Helen Marnie. Relentlessly repetitive and just a, dare we say it, teensy weensey bit uninspired, â€˜Sugarâ€™ is nevertheless likeable, catchy, danceable and cute. Are they playing it safe for this first new release? Only time and the new album, due out in summer, will tell.
Itâ€™s easy to see why the Kaiser Chiefs are such fans of fellow Leeds lads, The Cribs, because they too are making radio-friendly guitar pop with character. True â€˜Mirror Kissersâ€™ is not breaking any boundaries and itâ€™s a bit â€˜chug chugâ€™ predictable. But, hey, who cares? Itâ€™s brimming with energy and hooks, has a sing-a-long middle eight with some military tattoo style drumming, and they shout wa-oooo every now and then. Summerâ€™s on the way, everythingâ€™s right with the world and Iâ€™m going to go and kiss my reflection in the mirror to prove it. Before licking my window.
At first it appears as though R.O.C seem to think theyâ€™re just a little bit cleverer than they really are. Donâ€™t get us wrong, â€˜Princessâ€™ is good, but itâ€™s not that good. It could be better. In fact it would be if it was prefixed with â€œhelloâ€ and sung in the style of Dirty Den serenading piggy faced Sharon. That would have been a nice touch. As it stands we have a bitter-sweet ode for those days when you just want to forget the worries of the world, kick back and get drunk. Fred sings: â€œSo let the bombs drop and all the guns shoot and the children all burn while there population isâ€¦because thatâ€™s all happening a million miles away and nothingâ€™s going to spoil our perfect day.â€ Half light, half dark; it makes you feel relaxed and uncomfortable, reassured and disturbed all at the same time. Hmm, R.O.C were right all along, they really are musical smart-arses. Bravo!
The Shout Out Louds are the latest offering from Stockholm and judging by â€˜Very Loudâ€™ sound very much like a male version of fellow Swedish crooners, The Concretes, just not quite as good. Donâ€™t actually expect any shouting out loud, the name is more than a little misleading. Instead be prepared for gentle, loveable, indie folk pop sung in Adam Oleniusâ€™s cutely cracked Swedish accent. Although strangely enough, the fella also sounds startling British; like the guitar-toting love child of a drunken coupling between, say, Robert Smith and scrawny-necked weather harlot Ulrika Johnson. Interesting.
Turkey Of The Week: There was nothing so offensive in this weekâ€™s singles that it immediately sprouted arms and legs and ran around Screaming â€œIâ€™m the turkey of the week, itâ€™s me, pick me!â€ So it was with a sigh of relief that we spied the Stereophonicsâ€™ â€˜Superman'. They didnâ€™t let us down. The effort to reinvent themselves as cool is not good, not good at all. We were under the impression that Kelly came from Wales and possessed a gruff-and-ready Welsh accent. Weâ€™ve obviously been wrong all these years because from the sound of this offering, he was born and raised in Detroit with a vocoder welded to his chin. Perhaps it is a desperate bid to try and disguise what one Gigwise writer has called his â€˜filthy vocal vomit.â€™ On the upside, itâ€™s a great soundtrack for leather jacketed men going through a mid-life crisis. You can see them now, winding down the windows of their newly-purchased sports cars, surreptitiously sliding â€˜Supermanâ€™ into the CD player and cruising the streets looking for an affair. Thanks Kelly.