Some musicians (I use the term loosely, in this age of computer-controlled and vocoder riddled voices) have a hard-wired reflex into my brain. In some cases that’s a good thing. Anything by The Ramones, for example, automatically puts a huge grin on my face; it’s as much a reflex action as a beating heart and there’s not a darned thing I can do about it. Not, of course, that I want to.
Other “artists” (again, used loosely) hit my “Oh God No!” nerve and sends me scrabbling for the TV remote control/car radio scan button/a handy aerodynamic object.
Lily Allen is right at the top of the list, with her Gawd awful pseudo-London accent and not-actually-singing-and-couldn’t-care-less ways. The thing is that I’ve heard Ms. Allen when she’s just talking, and she sounds lovely, not a trace of that incandescent whine at all. I reckon deep down she might have quite a good singing voice. Very, very deep down.
What worries me is that she’s been cloned. Other supposedly “talented” folks (talented, that is, by today’s standard, which means forgettable face and great legs) have started climbing out of the Xerox machine to imitate her “style”. I’m looking at you, Kate Nash. Oh, yes I am.
IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT’S HOLY STOP THIS MADNESS NOW!
Look, I’m a reasonable bloke. I can listen to 6 rap tracks in a row where multi-millionaires talk (not sing) about being poor and tough while surrounded by a horde of bodyguards and wearing enough gold to solve world poverty in a stroke. I can even listen to so-called R&B which is neither Rhythm nor Blues and is basically pole dancing to a drum machine on a loop.
That all pales in comparison to Lily and the Clones whining about bags of chips and whatnot in a very, very thumpable accent.
Whichever remote lab has Lily Allen’s DNA, I urge them to stop this cruelty, now.