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Saturday, 7 May 2011

Say You, Pay Me

The TV was on but I was catching up with emails. I say catching up – in reality I was having my twice-weekly unsubscribe session in a desperate attempt to stem the tide of messages which flood in as a result of my wife’s not-at-all-worrying penchant for entering random competitions. Waltons’ Garden Buildings, anyone?

I became vaguely aware that Lionel Richie was on screen singing Say You, Say Me. Not my favourite song of his, but I am familiar enough with it to know that it does not, (and, in an ideal world, never would) feature the words “EXTRA CRUNCHY”. Yes, Britain’s crisp munchers had a new pin-up: the man who wrote and sang Easy, Sail On, We are the World and countless other decent tunes was now peddling fried potato snacks in the middle of Hollyoaks. 41 seconds of what, depending on your view, was either a bit of harmless self-parody, or a once quite credible artist pissing all over his reputation for a (saturated) fat cheque. Or something in between. 

Jaw in need of support

My immediate reaction was to tweet that a decent agent would at least have got him the Kettle Chips gig, but the experience left me feeling somewhat soiled (and not in the usual way). Why would he need to do that? Clearly, the likes of Heaven 17 or Ray Parker Jr, who have cropped up in UK ads recently, have not got much to lose - their appeal having become, shall we say, more selective of late. It’s a no-brainer (or no-hairer in the case of Glenn Gregory these days). But Motown legend Lionel? Surely he can’t need the money that badly?

Maybe this is a replacement income stream, as the private concerts for Colonel Gadaffi are ...ahem... on hold for the time being. He could at least have performed a useful public service and included the line “...DON’T EAT THE GREEN ONES....NATURALLY”.

You might have thought that little old Walkers couldn’t pay him anywhere near the fee he’d get for a couple of nights at the O2. Perhaps it’s just so easy to lark around with old jug-ears Lineker for a couple of lucrative hours and still get to the arena in time for soundcheck, thereby getting paid twice. It’s always possible he is hoarding cash for another expensive divorce settlement, with the last one rumoured to have cost him around $20million.

Of course the perma-grinned Richie is far from alone amongst still-popular musos in being unable to resist some easy readies. Witness the WTF-tastic Iggy Pop car insurance ads, which hilariously were for a company which wouldn’t touch the likes of Mr Pop (or indeed any music biz types) with a fully-comprehensive barge pole. And whoever thought of that scary puppet/doppelganger thing must have stumbled upon a big stash of the drugs the skeletal singer has left behind.

FFS

John Lydon maintains that doing the Country Life butter ads has funded the relaunch of Public Image Ltd, though apparently not by enough to include any original members (maybe if he advertised Chivers jelly he could re-hire Jah Wobble... please forgive me). Obviously he will always explain away any perceived sell-out (see also his appearance on “The Jungle”, as it must be called) as being part of the whole swindle / filthy lucre claptrap he’s spouted since 1976. There’s even a Sex Pistols fragrance now. Never Mind it Smells Like Bollocks (probably). Others who might inspire you to heckle them with a quick “Greedy Bastard!” whilst hiding behind a big hard-looking bloke are Ozzy Osbourne (World of Warcraft), and Alice Cooper (too many to list here but a Sky Plus one with Ronnie Corbett did actually raise a titter).

Ultimately though, do any of these artists look as though they have wrestled with their conscience before taking the corporate shilling? I’d say not. Do any of them have a problem selling tickets as a result of their ads? Apparently not. Am I just too sensitive about someone simply making a living? Well, that's for others to decide. I do know that if a musician who I actually admire, say Neil Finn, was to appear on my TV singing “...EVERYWHERE YOU GO, YOU ALWAYS TAKE THE QUAVERS WITH YOU...”, or Robert Plant with “...AND SHE’S BUYING A STAIRLIFT IN DEVON...”, I would have a hard time accepting that. I really would.

But back to Lionel Brockman Richie Jr. The aforementioned advert (and now a second one) can be found on the net pretty easily, for those who haven’t had the pleasure. I’ve no intention of posting a link here and stinking the place out. No, better to try to shut the whole sordid business out of the mind, and instead remember him this way:




Monday, 2 May 2011

What's In a Name?

I’m Simon, and I live in the West Midlands of England. I have a wife and three daughters, all of whom are lovely and are likely to crop up in posts on here from time to time. I’m younger than both Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, but have been around a bit longer than that Beiber brat (this is starting to sound like a really crappy riddle). I’m on Twitter quite a lot, so I’d be more than happy for you to follow me on there.

As it happens, this beautiful, shiny new site could easily have been up and running at least six months sooner, if only I was able to make decisions. Or could it?

I do think a name is important, and that people instantly read a lot into what a website or blog is called, as well as its strap line. I'm thinking in particular of all of those girlie/Mom blogs (some of which are indeed very good): if you hear www.cupcakesandperiods.com  (hey ladies that one is still available!), you pretty much know what you're going to get.

Is there a male equivalent of that?  Beer and farts is not really the kind of thing I’m aiming for, especially as I no longer indulge in either - haha. Not that I’d want to just attract men (oh grow up!) anyway. I wanted something that would encapsulate what this site is all about, the trouble is I’m not so sure how well I can do that in the following 100ish words, let alone two or three. Here goes anyway:-

This site is my way, and I hope this doesn’t sound too wanky, of communicating a certain view of life, the world and, in particular, popular culture. One that is simultaneously:

·         Pathetically enthusiastic about some stuff, often music, film or TV, and
·         Dismissive of and disparaging about other stuff, often (coincidentally) music, film or TV.

All usually with a dose of (my idea of) humour. One man’s viewpoint certainly, but with any luck one that strikes a chord with a few gorgeous, intelligent, friendly people around the world – sound like you? I hope so. As opposed to the spleen vent of a certifiable idiot (a fine line, granted).

So to represent this I eventually settled on BLINKERED. Even now I’m not sure I’m all that satisfied with it, but the whole thing had gone on so long I concluded I should just pick something and run with it. Much in the same way that I imagine Kajagoogoo or Hootie and the Blowfish did.

Anyhoo I thought that it might be interesting to share some of the ideas I had during my er...brainstorming sessions, so they're listed below. A number of these are absolutely awful, but feel free to steal any of them for yourself (bearing in mind I dismissed several as they were already in use).

Names
Staying In
Culture Mulcher
Under The Radar
Scratch the Surface
What Lies Beneath
Culture Cold Case
Eh?
Muddle Earth
Say What?
Supply Blogger
Trudger
Dome Ass (I know!)
Circlesquare
Scattergun
SofaKing (as in sofaking awesome etc. – already thought of)
Drain Brain
Simon Says / Simon Doesn’t Say
Robe Rage
Rage Against The ______  (really would have liked to have come up with a good word that rhymes with “machine” for this. Best I could do was “tagine”, but I guess that will have to wait for my Moroccan cooking blog).

Stewed
Blather Control
Lookee Here
Rudderless
Unseemly
Feckless
Languorous
Listless
Tosh Pit

Strap Line / Descriptions
Trapped in the body of an Unsuccessful Man (I have used this on Twitter)
My Wife Doesn’t Understand Me – So What Chance Have You Got?
Running Down the Crap: Racing Towards the Good
Walking the Fine Line Between Misunderstood and Pitied

At some point recently I decided it would be hilarious (probably only to myself) to use a Led Zeppelin song title. I have no recollection how I reached this conclusion, but again I had been stuck for a while so took the “run with it” approach, hence What Is and What Should Never Be*.  It could easily have been any of these:

Communication Breakdown
The Battle of Evermore (how do you live up to that?)
Misty Mountain Hop
Trampled Underfoot (would have continued the (blinkered) horse connection)
Achilles' Last Stand

So that slightly bizarre insight is how we find ourselves here. I hope you will stop by now and again, and please free to leave thoughtful and preferably non-abusive comments.

Simon


* Edit - As you can see I've since now changed this again. I'm like that.