Thursday, 15 February 2007

The Brits 2007

Some of my thoughts, in no particular ‘running order’:

Russell Brand
– completely shits it at first, gets into a sort of groove but is trapped in his own bubble of dandy humour because no one can hear him, keep up with him and he gets no interaction with the gong hander-outers. Boring.
Amy Winehouse – sober and slightly dim. Boring.

Scissor Sisters – the live take on the brilliant Japanese puppetry video of theirs was a mistake. You could see most of the puppeteers and the whole concept looked lost on the giant stage. Sad to say, boring.
Snow Patrol – the vocals, ouch! Boring (as ever).
Muse – that frock coat! The bragging! Boring.

Fearne Cotton – how old are you? 8? Like, boring.
Sean Bean, Toni Collette and Anthony Head – why? Boring.
Corrine Bailey-Rae – whimpers, “2 little birds SHAT on my window”. Boring.
Red Hot Chilli Peppers – am I the only one who thinks every song sounds the same? Boring.
Oasis – the lady doth protest too much. You ARE rock establishment. You ARE up there with Sting. You ARE relics of a former pop era. You ARE boring.

But some good things:
Sophie Ellis-Bextor – well done. I loved the school teacher telling orf she gave Steve Tyler. Fab.
Allen Carr – swaps spittle with all the TT boys and dry-humps Mark Owen making thousands of thirty-something women jealous in the process. Fab.
Jarvis Cocker – getting more and more like Ronnie Corbett circa ‘Sorry’. You think you like him but you don’t know why. Fab.
The Fratellis – pissed and talking shite. Fab.

Overall, there were no surprises. The sets were weak, static and unimaginative. The Brits is essentially a TV show not a gig. Earls Court could have been transformed instead of staying within the confines of the stage and auditorium. The music industry bods could have been pushed way back to make room for bigger sets. And couldn’t they have sat the nominees closer to the stage? When The Fratellis won I went off to get a drink. I’d uncorked, poured for two AND grabbed a bag of Dorritos by the time the pissed old Scots staggered up the stairs.

Gruesome twosome - and who invited her anyway?

"Where's that facking Winehouse? Hic."

Let's hope next year they rip it up and start again.

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