Just for a moment, imagine Molly Meldrum deadpanning this intro on Countdown circa 1979: “Live in the Countdown studios, here tonight, from the hit movie Slumdog Millionaire is Ar Rahman, The Pussycat Dolls and Nicole Schcrzinger with their hit new song Jai Ho (You Are My Destiny). Give them a big hand and do yourself
When I first heard that France has some peak body that oversees how its language is going, I must confess I had bit of a chuckle — talk about precious. I mean, who really cares if there’s no Gallic word for ‘blue jeans’ or that some snooty Parisienne boulangerie has been taken over by Starbucks
Poker is the glamour sport of the noughties and to celebrate Lady Gaga is “bluffin’ with her muffin”. Lady Gaga (not her real name) is the real deal, apparently. She’s paid her dooos in the New York club scene, combining a love for high camp exhibitionism and hot pants. That’s right, Lady Gaga isn’t an
Apparently Britney Spears is nuts. Personally, I don’t spend enough time in supermarket queues to remain fully abreast of the day-to-day Britney soap opera. But tap ‘Britney is nuts’ into Google and in 0.09 seconds you’ll find over 2.5 million compelling reasons why she’s completely cuckoo.
If you find yourself in stitches as you watch the current crop of Jim Beam, ‘The Bourbon’, ads on telly and know who the Crusty Demons are, then read on… cos do I have a music video for you. So drag yourself away from your 351 pickup, trim your mullet, polish your moccies, and come
This issue we explore the lung-busting world of the Power Ballad. Few musical devices are more explosive and invite more vocal gymnastics than the Power Ballad… except, of course, when you gene splice the Power Ballad with the Duet. That’s right, the Power Ballad Duet: frightening for its raw primeval grunt and awesome in its
Madonna has only four minutes. Four minutes to strip down to her nanna’s undies, four minutes to skip down the aisle of a supermarket, four minutes to jump all over a Triumph Stag, four minutes to bust in on some chick’s ablutions, and four minutes to run roughshod over a family’s evening meal with her
Pass me my pom poms and ra-ra skirt cos I’m heading up the cheerleaders for this clip — it’s a masterpiece! Let’s consider Run’s setup for a moment. Gnarls Barkley find themselves in an imaginary late ’80s public access show called City Vibin’ — “the double number one, crazy-fresh show” — compered by a boob
This column admits to being less than reverential to the fripperies of pop music. Undoubtedly, high-quality ‘serious’ music contemporary exists and is happily consumed by serious-minded music lovers; but as soon as you combine any manner of music with a video clip, well, then all bets are off. My point? Music video clips are almost
The Spice Girls eh? What a phenomenon, manufactured in a way that only the Poms can. And, back in 1996, it was all about Girl Power. What a beautifully elegant invention: bring together five feisty young ladies — vocal talents optional — board them in a share house, and unleash them on a teeny/tweeny market