It's a rare case indeed that a music reviewer feels entirely redundant, but for Woman E's "Few And Far Between", I'm happy to keep it short: it's dreadful. You need not continue reading, but for those of you intrigued enough to want to learn a little more about this car crash of smutty stimulus and dire dance "music", you need to know that, first of all, there are a few culprits worth naming and shaming.
Top of the list is The News Of The World. They're an easy target, there's no denying that, and I'm sure that this particular offence to decency, sensibility and taste is relatively mild compared to those charges normally laid at the door of this purveyor of po-faced judgemental tat, its foul weekly brew of sordid titillation and straight-laced hypocrisy clogging up the media waves and our otherwise tranquil Sunday mornings. However, their role in the production of this tinny, dance-lite pop that erupted from my speakers deserves to be acknowledged, if only in preparation for the day when offences against music become an entirely valid legal transgression in modern society. It was their breaking of the story regarding Max Mosley's sado-masochist Nazi-themed sex dates with a dominatrix that served as inspiration for Women E's name (apparently, and I can't say that I would have made the connection were it not for the press release, Women E was how the lady involved was referred to during the subsequent court case).
The second culprit is French Vogue. More accustomed to batting away criticism for airbrushing photos and glamorising stick-thin females, I'm equally sure that this review will remain pretty low down on the editor's list of concerns. But it is this magazine that, upon hearing some of Woman E's early demos, loudly proclaimed them "one of the best fashion records ever". That sort of judgement is best left to the professionals, certainly based on this evidence. After all, it's not like I pretend to know anything about fashion.
The third on our hit list is obviously the group, comprised of principal members Ria Berlin, Uwe Doll (who - Christ almighty - also pumps out choons under the name DJ Oovermatic) and a drummer named Steve. Berlin's vocals are clearly aiming for alluring and sassy: in reality, they come out sounding about as enticing as smut line perversions drawled out by a middle-aged housewife cradling a newborn and as dynamic as John Major. It's the sort of sexless wibbling that we all hoped had drifted out of fashion years ago. Alas no. The track totters along on a weak dribble of 80s disco synths, flimsy euro-pop drums and a parping sound that can only be described as the bastard child shot forth from the unholy union of an air horn and a Oompah band.
When asked to describe their music, Woman E generally plump for "decadence and decay", "melancholy disco" or, if forced to offer something that's not a snappy but meaningless sound-bite, "if you strip away all the smug adjectives, it's really just pop". I disagree. If you strip away all the smug adjectives, it's really just awful.
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