Hall & Oates
I’m a little bewildered that my esteemed co-Blogger and colleague Bart thinks that one-hit-wonders Wang Chung are in any way representative of UK taste. I had to Google them to remember that they were not, in fact, a style of Kung Fu. It turns out that their so-called “big hit” Dance Hall Days only made it to number 21 in the UK. Not one of their other singles has managed to bother, or even slightly worry the top 40 here. In the States, however, they’ve been much more successful with two number ones and three top twenty dance chart hits. They are, in effect, honorary Americans.
This does not surprise me.
The superior taste of the British music fan means that we embrace those acts from over the Atlantic that America ignores. Jimi Hendrix got his start in blighty, as did The White Stripes. Iggy Pop’s solo career was almost entirely successful due to European patronage.
Meanwhile, America embraces the limpid dregs we can’t abide - with a curiously predictable hankering for the plastic and fake. Cod grunge chancers Bush, for example, are unknown in the UK - but have sold 10 million records to gullible Americans. Rubbish punk Billy Idol continues to have a pantomime career of sorts in LA, and we all know how much the Yanks love Leona Lewis. They can keep her.
Oh and, while we’re here - Whitney, Mariah and all those other diva “vocalists” who can’t seem to pick a note to sing and stick with it? You’re shit and make my ears bleed . Now fuck off.
Still, it shows what meagre cloth Bart has to work with in his attempt to deride British taste if he has to ridicule an obscure bunch of 80s synth twiddlers - which very few people in Britain have actually heard of - in order to parry my attack on the terminally saccharine Bon Jovi; one of the biggest selling bands in US history… And in only his second post!
So, allow me to counter Bart’s pea shooter assault with a Trident ballistic missile; Daryl Hall and John Oates. Hall and Oates; creators of 27 U.S. top 40 hits, 6 of them number ones, all of them shit.
This stunted pair of cunts stand accused of popular culture’s most egregious crime; pretending to be black. Really badly.
They sing what is euphemistically known as “blue eyed soul” - that is, a middle-of-the-road imitation of Motown mores, with polished production instead of piss and vinegar. And America, poor deluded America, loves it.
“Yum, yum,” they say, “This sounds a bit sexy and cool but, curiously, doesn’t make me want to go and lynch the artist from a tree or set fire to Ma’s crucifix”.
Really though, I don’t know why I’m wasting my words when all I really have to do is post this:
What else can one say but “ew”. Let's pray they haven't bred - but from that picture I fear it may be too late. It's rumoured that Oate's moustache isn't made of munchkin hair at all, but is actually a smear of shit from Hall's gaping arse cavern. Allegedly.
I suppose I should say some more about their music, but not much of it really made it's way over to Blighty. It was too lightweight and insipid to survive the journey. And, also, who cares? Just look at them.
Wankers.
This does not surprise me.
The superior taste of the British music fan means that we embrace those acts from over the Atlantic that America ignores. Jimi Hendrix got his start in blighty, as did The White Stripes. Iggy Pop’s solo career was almost entirely successful due to European patronage.
Meanwhile, America embraces the limpid dregs we can’t abide - with a curiously predictable hankering for the plastic and fake. Cod grunge chancers Bush, for example, are unknown in the UK - but have sold 10 million records to gullible Americans. Rubbish punk Billy Idol continues to have a pantomime career of sorts in LA, and we all know how much the Yanks love Leona Lewis. They can keep her.
Oh and, while we’re here - Whitney, Mariah and all those other diva “vocalists” who can’t seem to pick a note to sing and stick with it? You’re shit and make my ears bleed . Now fuck off.
Still, it shows what meagre cloth Bart has to work with in his attempt to deride British taste if he has to ridicule an obscure bunch of 80s synth twiddlers - which very few people in Britain have actually heard of - in order to parry my attack on the terminally saccharine Bon Jovi; one of the biggest selling bands in US history… And in only his second post!
So, allow me to counter Bart’s pea shooter assault with a Trident ballistic missile; Daryl Hall and John Oates. Hall and Oates; creators of 27 U.S. top 40 hits, 6 of them number ones, all of them shit.
This stunted pair of cunts stand accused of popular culture’s most egregious crime; pretending to be black. Really badly.
They sing what is euphemistically known as “blue eyed soul” - that is, a middle-of-the-road imitation of Motown mores, with polished production instead of piss and vinegar. And America, poor deluded America, loves it.
“Yum, yum,” they say, “This sounds a bit sexy and cool but, curiously, doesn’t make me want to go and lynch the artist from a tree or set fire to Ma’s crucifix”.
Really though, I don’t know why I’m wasting my words when all I really have to do is post this:
What else can one say but “ew”. Let's pray they haven't bred - but from that picture I fear it may be too late. It's rumoured that Oate's moustache isn't made of munchkin hair at all, but is actually a smear of shit from Hall's gaping arse cavern. Allegedly.
I suppose I should say some more about their music, but not much of it really made it's way over to Blighty. It was too lightweight and insipid to survive the journey. And, also, who cares? Just look at them.
Wankers.