Wherein hugger places his smug indie head on the block and reveals the songs that really shouldn’t have stood a chance but somehow had the wherewithal to win over those unforgiving ears.
Chav culture enters the charts and comes pre-packed with wonderfully cheapy seaside promo vid. It shouldn’t work, I hate ska so why am I singing along to the la la la sections?
Lady Sovereign Vs The Ordinary Boys – Nine2five
I mean the guy can’t even sing and the band sound like they should be on their way to a Scooter tribute night. That said, I do love the Frank & Walters and especially their oh so fine t-shirts so the shoddy musicianship and OTT attempts at poking fun at euro pop can be easily forgiven.
Fubgangerzone – I Love My Frank And Walters Long Sleeve T-Shirt
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Ok, I’ll never admit to liking David Gray (he of the head in a tumble dryer stage routine) so why does Anderson’s ‘Radio One’ appeal to my stick on repeat set of muscular co-ordinations. Not sure really but something on here keeps me coming back for more.
Anderson – Radio One
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Middle class girl decides that Ibiza is not for her. Daddy’s been in charts before but never like this. Clever girl decides the Streets are the way to go so makes mental notes over a succession of hedonistic weekends. Undeniably catchy and populated with acres of wise gal lyrics that’ll sound ancient 5 years from now. Live for the present.
Lily Allen – Knock Em Out
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Oh dear, will we ever escape the clutches of the Gallaghers influence. This could never have happened were it not for the Manc scamps who lost the will to write a good song several albums ago. This would have fitted just perfectly on ‘Definitely Maybe’s brash yet exciting set of songs. Now if Morning Stardust had only cast their eye over Blur’s back catalogue we could have something with a lot more sustenance to absorb. Instead they’ll most likely be looking back in anger.
Morning Stardust – Looking Back
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I’m feeling most shame faced for including this in guilty pleasures because it is truly ace. But I can’t help arriving at the conclusion that it’s all a clever marketing trick to con us. The name for one contains that much abused Motown word-closer ‘ettes’. Then there’s the music that could only be sung by 3 attractively naive girls in flowery apparel. For their next trick they’ll probably come up with a self-referencing song to open their debut album.
The Pipettes – Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me
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