Simply Red - Stars

I was about to write something about Stars before realising that I just couldn't face it. I closed down the window in question, but then Simply Red came on the plasterer's radio and I took it as a sign.

It still doesn't give me much of a clue as to what to write though. I've got a headache, my vision's going funny from staring at this monitor, I'm trying and failing to write about Simply Red and I can HEAR Simply Red at the same time. Imagine how I feel.

The only way I can think of expressing my anguish in written form is by mashing my face against the keyboard, smothering myself in it and dribbling between the J and the K keys.

Just pretend that I've done this and this is what came out.

Curtis Stigers - I Think It's Going To Rain Today

As an Englishman and therefore being obsessed with weather, I'm not satisfied with Curtis Stigers' assertion that he thinks it's going to rain today. Is it or isn't it?

Not only that, I want justification. Once he's certain that it's going to rain (or not), then I want to know why he thinks that. Is it because the weather's predominantly coming from the west? Is it because of the morning humidity?

If it's just a feeling, that won't do. I want Curtis Stigers to quote atmospheric pressure, relative humidity and seasonal precedents. I want him at the very least to say that he felt a couple of droplets.

You can't just go round making rash pronouncements, you know, Curtis.

Joss Stone - Mind Body and Soul

Funny thing about soul music: If it's any good, the creator never, ever applies the label 'soul' to it.

So: Mind, Body and Soul then.

It contains some woeful thinking. One song is called 'Right To Be Wrong'. Erroneous. It's wrong to be wrong. You can tell by the use of the word 'wrong'. Big give away.

Another track's called 'Less Is More'. Again, no. More is more. Less is less. You can't just disregard the meanings of words otherwise there's going to be anarchy.

On the other hand, I can call Joss Stone 'a moronic bitch who looks like a turd in a hat' and she'll probably take it as a compliment, if that's the way she thinks.

Mutya Buena - Real Girl

Mutya Buena has been unkindly branded 'Munter' Buena by some people.

I would never stoop so low as to take issue with her appearance. However, I will go on record as saying I'd rather have sex with the moon.

The middle of this record features a light-hearted, buoyant run of tracks: 'Breakdown Motel', 'Strung Out', 'It's Not Easy' and 'Suffer For Love'.

I'm guessing that times have been tough for Mutya. I guess being in The Sugababes was equivalent to working in a Victorian workhouse and I'm guessing leaving The Sugababes was like walking out on a loved one.

As Leonardo Da Vinci once said: 'You can't have it both ways, Buena. Belt up. Make some records about upbeat things like picnics and Christmas presents. Don't make me tell you again - I'm busy inventing helicopters and the contact lens.'

Yes, he did say that.

Prince - 1999

Prince: Looks like a gimp; acts like a gimp; produces a large amount of actually quite good music.

I remember seeing the layout of the opening guitar chord of one of Prince's songs once. I tried to play it, but even from a standing start, I couldn't actually get my fingers into the correct position.

I'm not a guitar novice. Prince clearly discovered the ultimate guitar chord. He's tiny as well and I'm guessing his hands are to scale. He must have a child's guitar or he'd never stretch beyond one fret.

I remember another time, back when I was a child - one of my Star Wars figures appeared to move of its own volition. On closer inspection, it had the word 'slave' on its cheek. It was Prince himself. He'd somehow found his way inside my Millennium Falcon and had become trapped.

I carefully scooped him up in my hand and dropped him outside my window. He scampered off and promptly recorded 'Something In The Water (Does Not Compute)' - one of the more disappointing songs off the 1999 album.

Curtis Stigers - Real Emotional

What is a Curtis Stigers?

It seems so familiar, but yet I now realise I know almost nothing about it. What is a Curtis Stigers?

Even the face it's using seems unrecognisable. I thought that it looked like a Michael Bolton, but that's not so distinctive as a Michael Bolton. It looks bland. As soon as I look away, I've forgotten its appearance.

The album by this Curtis Stigers is entitled Real Emotional. The emotions I'm feeling are confusion and faint nausea. Is nausea an emotion? I'm too confused to decide.

My advice to you is make your own Curtis Stigers. Make a good one. Fill it full of love and then send it out into the world to do something memorable. If you can make a Curtis Stigers which can punish a malfunctioning vehicle with its bare hands, people would remember that.

Simply Red - Stay

You're meeting Dolores in the wine bar. You've got ten minutes to kill. Why haven't they got a jukebox? You've heard Sade about eight times already and The Brand New Heavies are too upbeat. Why won't someone put Simply Red on?

Look at him. Look at Mick Hucknall. Standing in his suit in front of that urban view. He's come a long way since he appeared on Top of the Pops in a lumberjack shirt and a beret.

Or has he? Let's look at the evidence: Simply Red - still shit.

No, Mick Hucknall hasn't made any progress at all. He's not even done anything about the hair or the face or anything. The clothes maybe, but that's just a facade. If I were Mick Hucknall, I'd buy a BMX, eat only kebabs, walk on my hands and cry a lot. Now THAT would be progress. As would many other things.

Justin Timberlake

I know what you're wondering: If this album were a song by Carter USM, which would it be? The answer, of course, is 'Lenny and Terence'.

And I know what else you're wondering: Is Justin Timberlake still stalking you? The answer, of course, is yes.

I got up this morning and who should I find slumped against my front door, but the squeaky-voiced popster himself. His pleas that he'd been out with The Neptunes and that he thought that this was Chad Hugo's house fell on deaf ears and I sent him on his way.

Earlier in the week I'd been idly wondering whether it was time to prune my Buddleja in the back garden, when he'd appeared over the back fence. He then strung a load of his own song titles together in a bid to impress me. He said:

"'What You Got' 'Last Night' is 'Still On My Brain'. 'Rock Your Body'. 'Take Me Now', 'Take It From Here' 'Like I Love You'."

I replied in kind:

"'Cry Me A River'. 'Nothin' Else'."

At which point I retrieved my pilfered secateurs from his limp grip and told him to fuck off.

Joss Stone - Introducing Joss Stone

Introducing Joss Stone is Joss Stone's third studio album. That title again: Introducing Joss Stone.

Maybe she wasn't around when she was on TV and radio all those times and thinks that she still needs an introduction. Maybe she wasn't around when she recorded the first two albums. Maybe she's demented. Maybe she couldn't think of an album title. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Let's move to some facts.

Joss Stone's speaking voice is monumentally irritating. If you were being generous, you'd say it was understated. You'd be wrong. It's wispy, voiceless and affected. It's also posh. Unforgivably so.

This album has a song called 'Tell Me What We're Gonna Do Now'. It features the rapper, Common. If Common were true to his name, he'd tell Joss Stone that they were gonna do now. He'd say: 'I'm gonna mock your ridiculous speaking voice. You can do as you please,' because commoners always have that against the posh of this world.

Then he'd break her croquet mallet over his knee and brandish it in her face, saying: 'How about we restructure society so that we, the masses, have access to the same opportunities granted you and all of your sickening ilk?'

Joss Stone would then answer, to which Common would say: 'Speak up.'

Update: I'm reliably informed that Joss Stone has now affected a cod-American or 'transatlantic' accent. This is, unbelievably, an even worse crime. It's probably one of the worst crimes there is - not far below genocide.

Belinda Carlisle - Voila

Belinda Carlisle's got a record out! In French!

I just don't know what to say. For one thing, how the hell do I categorise it? It's Belinda Carlisle, but it's not pop. And it's French songs. French songs fit no clearly identifiable genre except 'French music' and there's no way I'm taking the trouble to add that. Just how many French records am I likely to be reviewing?

Someone - some philosopher - once said that even if a Lion could speak English, you wouldn't understand it. His point being that your worlds are so far apart, you'd have no common ground. Your values and reference points bear such little relation to each other that you'd be mutually incomprehensible, despite speaking the same language.

It's the same with the French. For all that I admire their food and their sniffy attitude to the US, at the end of the day, just what do they spend their time listening to and why? Belinda Carlisle seems to think that she knows, but she doesn't. Rest assured, behind her back, the French are going: "She has it all wrong. She takes no pleasure in the misery and she doesn't do enough ambiguous shrugs".

Norah Jones - Not Too Late

Not too late? Yes it is. It's all too late. Why bother? Do you ever think that maybe it just isn't worth trying any more. I mean, obviously most of us haven't really been trying up until now, but why start? It's too late. Ignore Norah Jones.

What's with the whole 'being called Norah' thing anyway? It's too late for that as well. The last famous Norah was Norah Batty and she's become nothing more than shorthand for an aged, old-fashioned, embittered battle-axe sort of person.

Let's list the songs on this album and then say what they should be about, for no other reason than there's nothing obvious to write about Norah Jones and I'm not in a mood for thinking.

Wish I Could: This is a song about not being bothered. Norah wishes she could be bothered.
Sinkin' Soon: This is a song about how maybe it would be good if we were all on a boat and it just sank, saving everyone the bother of getting on with stuff. Getting on with stuff is hassle.
Sun Doesn't Like You: This is a song about how we're all going to get skin cancer.
Until The End: This is about how boring it's going to be, waiting to die of skin cancer.
Not My Friend: This is a song about everyone else in the world.
Thinking About You: This is a mournful ditty, directed at the cancer.
Broken: This is about all of your stuff. The arrangement expresses how much it's going to cost to get everything fixed.
My Dear Country: This is ironic. It's shit where Norah Jones lives and it's shit where you live.
Wake Me Up: This is also ironic, because there's no point waking up. Waking up is hassle.
Be My Somebody: Everyone's always worried about getting mugged by somebody or killed by somebody. Norah's pleading for a somebody.
Little Room: This is about the problems of overcrowding in our modern world.
Rosie's Lullaby: This is to try and get Rosie to sleep. Forever.
Not Too Late: This is supposed to be the upbeat ending, but she's wrong. It is too late.

Justin Timberlake - Future Sex

"I'm a tiny, fey, inconsequential little munchkin. I've had the last vestiges of independent thought groomed out of me by record company oppressors. My hair is short and neat. My sexuality is overt but non-threatening. I'm fun, sensitive, definitely hetero, but maybe a bit gay and I sing like a woman."

That's what Justin Timberlake says to me.

No, literally. Get off the fucking phone, Justin. I'm trying to work. I know. I know how you see yourself. Leave me alone. Stop stalking me. Who do you think I am? A fourteen-year-old groupie? I'm not. I'm a man in a cardigan looking forward to a pint of real ale. I'm not your type.

Future Sex is all about the sex. It's all about the sex and a little bit about the love, but mostly it's about the sex. He's like one of those lonely leg-loving dogs, our Justin.

Track one, 'Futuresex/Lovesound' - both sex and love. Track two, 'Sexyback' - just sex. Track three, 'Sexy Ladies/Let Me Talk to You (Prelude)' - just sex again, maybe with a little bit of talking. Mercifully, he's found the space bar by track three, at least. Stop blending words into one, you manicured marmoset.

Justin Timberlake appears to be playing football with a goldfish bowl on the cover. Go on. Head it, you idiot.

Stevie Wonder - Songs In The Key Of Life

I write an inordinate amount about stuff that's unexpurgated shit on this site, so I thought I'd actually compliment something today.

Stevie Wonder is a bit off-putting to some people. I can see that. He did record 'I Just Called To Say I Love You', which is the worst song ever made. But don't be misled. He's ace. Not crap. Ace.

Witness 'Ordinary Pain' on Songs In The Key Of Life. This is a classic example of a Stevie Wonder song. It starts off as complete garbage and that'll be enough for most of you. You'll switch it off there and then. But DON'T!

The first half, Part I, is a saccharine ballad with Stevie going on about how some guy who's split up with his bird is totally miserable. It ends with a big cheeseball cymbal.

But you should embrace that cymbal, because that cymbal heralds GOOD Stevie Wonder. Just as it fades, Part II kicks in. Part II's the other side of the story. This time it's a woman and she tells it like it is. And she tells it through the power of funk.

Basically Part I guy should stop feeling sorry for himself because he's a complete bastard. "You're crying big crocodile tears. Don't match the ones I cried for years. While I was home waiting for you. You were out somewhere doing the do."

'So enough of your twee, heartfelt ballad. Quit moaning', she says. All the while the band's funking it to a phat one. Or something.

It ends: 'Since one ain't good enough for you, then do yourself see how you do.' Nothing schmaltzy about that.

This album also features 'Sir Duke' which starts with the exact sequence of notes that introduce train announcements in Sri Lanka. There's also 'I Wish' which was wanked-up by Will Smith and turned into 'Wild Wild West'. There's also 'Pastime Paradise' which is where the good bit of 'Gangsta's Paradise' by Coolio came from.

Go and buy some Stevie Wonder albums. Do it now!

Will Young - Friday's Child

I was going to try and do five reviews on the theme 'what I missed when I was on holiday for ages that time' but I couldn't remember anyone else other than Will Young and that only takes us to four. I could have done Gareth Gates, but he's the exact same thing as Will Young really. Also, I don't want readers talking about 'the shit week on MP3 Wise Monkeys', so after this I'm going to try and raise the standard.

By far the most annoying thing about being away from UK pop culture for a while was hearing people talking about a pair of complete spanners like they were important. It was beyond that though. People spoke about 'Will' and 'Gareth' like you would know who the fuck they were.

I left the country and Will Young didn't exist. I came back and not only did he exist, but he was famous enough to only have a first name. So was 'Gareth'. It drove me fucking spare. I'm not exaggerating when I say it took me a full year to work out what the hell was going on. I'm not even sure I had the full picture then.

I'd ask people who 'Will' was and they'd explain using phrases like 'Pop Idol' - phrases that meant nothing to me. If I asked for further clarification, people treated me like I was some weird hermit and THAT'S what irks me. I was fucking right! 'Will' and 'Gareth' were shite. There was no reason on earth that they should be famous. That's what I couldn't get my head around.

I'm getting really pissed off now, which isn't good, because I was just supposed to be killing five minutes before bed by writing this. Now I'm all full of adrenaline. I've got blood lust.

Do you know how important they were at that time? They were all anyone talked about. They were the touchstone for all of society. It was literally like someone had roamed the nation putting a layer of wank-coloured paint over everything. All life was imbued with a wankish hue.

Now I've got to class the bastard as 'soul' because I'm deliberately avoiding 'pop' as a category. I'd add 'wank' as a special category instead, only it would take me another minute and a half to add it to the sidebar and frankly Will Young doesn't deserve another 90 seconds of my attention.

John Legend - Once Again

Is anyone else astounded and maybe a little bit irritated by the fact that there's somebody wandering around with the surname 'Legend'?

There's quite literally nothing that you could ever do to justify a name like that. If I were John Legend I'd have gone for a much more low-key name. He's okay with the 'John' bit, but I'd have allied it to 'Fiscal-Loss' or 'Batteries Not Included'.

'John Batteries Not Included' is an excellent name. It summons just the right amount of low-key disappointment. You could never be anything other than a pleasant surprise with a name like that. 'John Legend' on the other hand only invites ridicule.

Since as he does invite it, I'd better comply. I'm not feeling particularly insightful today, however, so I'll just settle for: John Legend is a silly name. Very silly.

I'm not sure that constitutes ridicule, but it's the best I can do.

The song titles are all massive downers even if he weren't called John Legend. The only one that stands out from the pack is 'PDA (We Just Don't Care)' a call to arms for all of us who can't bear to hear about some bastard's new gadget that's a bit like a phone and a bit like a computer. It's not impressive any more. It's commonplace. Stop going on about it.