Now That's What I Call..An Average Year For Music

This year did start with exciting prospects after Kings of Leon, LCD Soundsystem and Arcade Fire all releasing epic albums in 2007. Personally, with regards to new music, The Virgins encouraged me to believe that 2008 was filled with potential. However, my expectance dropped faster than you can say ‘I like Vampire Weekend, but all their songs do kind of sound like Graceland.’ The thing is I do like Vampire Weekend, but all their songs do kind of sound like Graceland. I can’t deny that they are fun live, but if that’s the best 2008 could offer then I stand by the fact that it was not a great year. MGMT were another favourite in the ‘Best of’ lists circulating the internet, but I am intrigued to see how the second album shapes up. As for my hope for The Virgins; well they made the monumental mistake of buying into their own hype in the world of cool. I was left with a replaced drummer and an album, pale in comparison to the previous E.P, and what they are obviously capable of producing. The fact that they’ve had more coverage in fashion magazines than music magazines suggests a lot.

Without getting all High Fidelity in my old age, my anger is probably magnified by the fact that I’m just not able to fully ‘get’ other big names of 2008. I’m definitely not saying that Santogold, Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes etc aren’t good. They are cute and fun but I want to hear a song that makes me cry, or a song so moving I want it played at my funeral. On the upside of all this, it has opened the gate of nostalgia and 2008 has been a good year for rediscovering old music, weirdly illustrated by Rick Astley winning ‘Best Act Ever’ at the MTV Europe awards. (I’m not sure if this is great, funny, or ridiculous).

As for chart music, which seemed to be making waves after buying Noah and the Whale into the top 10, well it was never going to last. I’ve just heard that the winner of X Factor has beaten the late, great Jeff Buckley to Christmas number one (even after admitting that the Leonard Cohen classic ‘does nothing for her’). I also hear that the biggest selling artist in the UK in 2008 was Scouting For Girls. I must give them credit for tricking a nation into buying the same song just with a different title, several times. They didn’t even change the key! Though it’s about time someone tells them that Elvis not only is dead, but their 3 chord drivel is making him turn in his grave. Not so lov-e-ly.

snowbawling my eyes out

I swear to god, snow is one of those massive conspiracies by the government or someone, just like Brussels sprouts. You see Brussels sprouts are not actually that disgusting, they're not great, but they're definitely not gross. However ever since I was young, on T.V. and pretty much everywhere Brussels sprouts were targeted as the worst vegetable ever, and I know for a fact people judge before even tasting. If everyone tasted on their own, I'm sure a new 'mushrooms are fucking rank' consensus would be agreed on. This is not even my opinion, it's a fact.

Similarly snow is one of those things that everyone is told is enchanting and magical. In reality, the only time I ever wished for snow as a child, was only in hope that school would be cancelled and I could spend the day watching Loose Women and feeling better about my life. I questioned my own cynicism and thought maybe I was a snow pessimist because living in London snow is actually grey, but having been on a cruise around Alaska and Canada, there is no doubt in my mind that I'd have rather been in the Caribbean. The thing about snow in London is that all that settles in a paper thin layer of what is essentially sleet. If you try and gather some to make a snowball, it is not far off assault because London snowballs are more gravel , rocks and litter than snow. A snow fight is more likely to end in tears than winter joy. Plus, at 20 years old (good god) I am beyond the age where I can ask for lifts from my parents, at the age where trains stop too early, and before the age where I can haul a taxi without my bank balance reaching red. So a winter waiting in Stoke Newington for the fucking 243 bus for 30 minutes in minus 10 degree weather is bad enough as it is without snow extinguishing my last cigarette.

I just find it weird that people spend the run up to Christmas praying for snow, when they could be wishing for 100 degree sun. What a wasted prayer.

The future looks...exactly the same as it did before.

I've come to the conclusion, that the only good thing about Halloween is cute gothic fashion. Friday saw a party hosted by Browns at a converted church in Soho. Spooky? Not really, but it was open bar and Josh Harnett was there, so I wasn't going to complain.

To try and get into the spirit, I took advantage of the entertainment at the party. First up in the main chapel I watched the first few minutes of some lady "singing", "jazz". It was the kind of performance, that you start planning your exit from, almost instantly after its begun. Maybe she was the trick, because she sure as hell wasn't a treat.

Anyway, after making a swift exit I noticed a lady sitting in a corridor apparently telling people's future's. I sat down and she began to ask me about any previous spiritual experiences I'd had. Now, being a student of Philosophy, I tend to be quite a sceptic, but simultaneously, it means that I think I'm really witty. So thought I'd humour this lady and really play up to the situation, all while massaging my ego. She she picked three tarot cards for me. I'll admit, there was a small part of me that wanted her to win me over with her incredible foresight...Alas, she was crap. She began to ramble about some sort of relationship I was going to start with "either a friend, or a family member, or a..a...lover". It was at this point when I had to start thinking of dead kittens and the credit crunch to ensure I could keep a straight face. She continued with something along the lines of "if you try really hard at the task at hand, you will succeed in the future!" Well no shit Sherlock.

It was then I had to make my excuses, head to the bar for a little Dutch courage before the Josh stalking commenced. Now if only she'd seen him in my future, I may have paid a little more attention...

Cringe-o-metre

I was confronted with an embarrassing situation yesterday. No matter how well you're educated, or how mature you are, I swear there are only a select few people who can remain cool in such situations. I my friends, do not fall into that category.

I wanted to return a pair of tights, which admittedly I'd worn, but they were about 5 inches too short, and they're measurements on the back were wrong. So I went into the shop, having stuffed the tights back into the packet and tried to exchange them for a longer pair. The hot, probably Scandinavian, girl behind the desk took one look at them, looked into my wandering eyes and knew I was a massive liar. "You've worn them..." she said, while possibly the best looking man I'd ever seen opened the till next to her.

"Umm, no" I replied, completely monotone.

She looked at me again, "I can see that you have".

Now, this was my fault as they were white tights, and the souls were discoloured from my fucking biker boots. As the hot guy looked over, I was faced with several options. a) continue to deny all knowledge of wearing them, b) admit it and laugh about it, c) run out crying. Unfortunately, I don't bode well with embarrassment, and probably could have come across much cooler, but I chose 'a' and for some reason couldn't say anything except "no".

"Well I can't exchange them because you have worn them" she stated, beginning to get quite annoyed.

Not only had I been defeated, but completely humiliated in the process, "No I haven't. But ok," I muttered and walked out with my tail between my legs, and I could feel the burn of her pretentious stare on my back (only magnified by her huge fake stupid Buddy Holly glasses). How embarrassing.

Fuck you Urban Outfitters.