Jesus suffer and fuck – hasn't a song suffered enough? There was a time when Massive Attack's 'Teardrop' was merely a fantastic trippy anthem that made it slightly mainstream. Then, every single miscarriage, abortion or emotional breakdown scene in British television drama over the past ten years used it for a soundtrack and ensured that, really, you never have to hear again in your life-time.
Enter NEWTON FAULKNER; your mother's latest guilty pleasure. Last years soul-less success story by all accounts, filling in the void left by the lack of a new James Morrison album. This song is a limp, dreary rendition that, although it is intended to be easy listening and relaxing, did nothing but make me feel really fucking angry. What is the point of music like this? Daniel O'Donnell seems edgy in comparison. Why is there any need for another achingly-heart felt pretty face to turn up churning out the same old crap? Why does there always need to be one of these in the charts? Why are people drawn to the inoffensive?
I'm sure he makes all the slightly alternative teens a little bit wet, and the middle-aged slightly curious, but how you can turn a trip-hop anthem into a British-Nickleback sob-story is impressive. Without showing any interest in it's history, I would imagine that this song started life out on Jo Whiley's Live Lounge and developed some sort of cult interest. Then it became a live favourite to all those people lacking the self-respect to go another gig (I can't imagine an evening with Newton could be anything but entirely vacuous), and they got the bright idea to release it as a single.
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This is an anthem for all those people that buy each other Valentine's themed compilations on Valentine's Day. It will no doubt be the first song at many wedding bashes. Until recently, I thought that Amy Winehouse's 'Valerie' was the most annoying cover vesion of recent years. But then this vapid atrocity appears from nowhere and steals the crown.
If only there was some way to stop this filling arenas before the end of the year.
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