Friday, 20 April 2018

Looking for all this cheap sensation

Belgium
Sennek
A Matter Of Time

It's a recurring nightmare. Charleroi 2019. Jean Claude Van Damme is hosting with a script in rhyming triplets. The venue puts mayo in the beer. Every song is a ballad. Technotronic do "Pump up the Jam" in the interval act dressed as that statute of the boy taking a piss whilst three English fans sing along with the words to "Pump up the Bitter" (brew it brew it) instead. It's worse than that year Ireland held it in a cowshed. It's Belgium. The Aldershot of Europe.


In 2009 Belgium entered an Elvis Presley impersonator that claimed that he invented being Elvis Presley before Elvis Presley and that Elvis Presley was stealing his soul even though he’s dead. With a Jive Bunny video. In 2010 we got a kind of low rent Marc Cohn doing a low rent Walking in Memphis, 2011 saw Belgium entering some smug acapella beatbox with sideburns, in 2012 they sent a warbling child wittering on about burglary, and in 2013 they sent a man to sing a song called "Love Kills" in strong Belgian accent, resulting in the whole of Europe having to sit through Roberta Bellarosa singing "Love keels, over and over", over and over again.

In 2014 they sent a preposterous Paul Potts lookalike Axel Hirsoux pining about his mommy (like if Norman Bates had eaten all the pies, entered Belgium's Got Talent and bought a bow tie), in 2015 they took Adam "Ricketts" Rickett's "I breathe again", slowed it down had it covered by Lorde and robbed it of any melody, in 2016 we got eleven year old Laura "Tesco" Tesoro, doing a Tesco Value version of Fleur's Sax, itself a Tesco Value version of Uptown Funk. And then last year this terrified woman called Blanche had a three minute panic attack in an inappropriate octave, all alone in the danger zone.

SennekSo what sweet shovel of shite have the Belgians hurled up for us this year? The artist is called Sennek, whose only interesting biog fact is that she is a "visual merchandiser" for Ikea, where things look shiny at first but don't really hang together and turn out to be massively disappointing LIKE HER SONG. It was written by Sennek with Belgian artist Alex Callier and French producer Maxime Tribeche- "who together also wrote the song Gravity for the band Hooverphonic!" and if that doesn't make you want to press skip I don't know what will.

She's a big posh sod with plums in her mouth, and the plums have mutated and they have got beaks. She makes pigs smoke. She feeds beef burgers to swans. She has big sheds, but nobody's allowed in. And in these sheds she has 20ft high chickens, and these chickens are scared because the don't know why they're so big, and they're going, 'Oh why am I so massive?' and they're looking down at all the little chickens and they think they're in an aeroplane because all the other chickens are so small. Does she deny that? No, and I think her silence speaks volumes.

It's vile. It's really vile. It's utterly objectionable lounge music that rhymes station, combination, imagination, and sensations. It's the sort of thing you don't want to hear being played in the lobby of a hotel you can't afford- like an Emeli Sandé album track only with all the life sucked out of it and spat into an empty jar of picked onions that have been sat at the back of the cupboard for three years. 


It's Jules Holland wine bar music, and you know what I think about this wine nonsense. You get all these wine people, don’t you? Wine this, wine that. Let’s have a bit of red, let’s have a bit of white. Ooh, that’s a snazzy bouquet. Oh, this smells of, I don’t know, basil. Sometimes you just want to say, sod all this wine, just give me a pint of… mineral water.

People say it's like a Bond theme, as if that will redeem it. I hate Bond films. They remind me of dismal bank holidays, sat bored at home listening to Dave Lee Travis not playing snooker on the radio because it's not Sunday, rain hammering down outside as we waited for mum to cook lamb chops. Do they even have lamb chops any more? What was that weird white bit in them? And Bond is vile. He's a nasty, smug, entitled prick that treats women like shit and thinks a nice watch and a stupid gadget is what sophistication looks like.

Right. Anyone want anything from the fridge?