So the Arctic Monkeys aren't as bad as all that. Maybe it's only because I've just now eaten an enormous bowl of Count Chocula, the crack cocaine of breakfast cereals, but honestly, they could be worse. I enjoy the way Alex Turner straps his guitar way up under his armpit, as if he could care less about assuming the requisite "my axe is my phallus and I wear it down by my knees" pose of rock boy machoism. His playing doesn't resemble wanking off so much as frantically grating a wedge of cheese. I also like the fact that he rhymes "Capulets" with "DJ sets," and that the Monkeys will be hitting up the Hull Ice Arena for their spring 2006 tour. Perhaps they will perform on the rink itself, in reference to their name? Or at least hijack a zamboni for the encore?
Like it or not, we had all better get used to the Arctic Monkeys, because they are the new Oasis. That's what everyone has been saying, so it must be true. The Subways are the new Arctic Monkeys, as well as the old Art Brut, who were the new Futureheads, who may or may not have once been Oasis. Everyone is Bloc Party.
Personally, I miss the days when you could just call somebody Joy Division and be done with it. Those were simpler, saner times. Dammit, Interpol, where are you? I think some more Count Chocula is in order.
Pop culture treasure, high culture trash.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
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2 comments:
NO NO NO THEY ARE THE NEW KILLERS.
((& btw, way to mention phalluses so close to cheese grating. our fourteen year old selves'd be proud))
Ah yes, they are the Killers are well.
I watched the Nina Hagen bit you rec'd and it was sweet jesus all around. I'd bet good money John Cameron Mitchell put more than a little of her into Hedwig.
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