 Q readers are a curious breed of people, most of them are already wondering how they're going to cover that balding patch whilst also starting to find that two square feet of garden space an insatiably growing concern, is the grass too long? Will the Alyssum grow unless I talk to it? What are the Jones' growing? What would Alan Titchmarsh do? And so on. Yet they also entertain some eternal youth Peter Pan-type fixation, and some of them believe that if they keep up to date with the latest music trends that are sold to youngsters (this is what 'you kids' listen to isn't it, son?) they can fight off that beer belly for a few more years. And Q are more than happy to oblige by giving exposure to the latest hip and happening snooze-fests every month - bands designed only to rehash the old days so even more businessmen can pretend its 1975 again and that they haven't yet had their souls crushed by mortgages and Sunday league football matches (and the wives).
In music terms, it's been a long time since Keane's album was released (I suppose when you actually listen to the album, you can feel years of your life slipping away) and its time for someone new for record companies to make money from and fill those Observer pages.
Enter Hard-Fi. In previous reviews, I said Hard-Fi were going to be as annoyingly average and boring as the Killers. I was wrong, I apologise. They're worse than that. The first time I heard 'Mr Brightside' I didn't feel the need to lynch the nearest mulleted human (that came after the 738th time), but one listen of 'Hard to Beat' and I had my shotgun loaded ready to pick off unsuspecting passers by. People, we're reaching new levels of blandness and it's a scary place. After a few listens you'll actually be able to hear your brain screaming out for something more challenging to process, Green Day, U2, Oasis, anything will do and quickly, before it jumps out and runs off. The lead singer looks like he shouldn't be anywhere near a rock band (even one as questionable as this) but rather he should be "havin' a large one" in some trendy nightclub in London, wearing a 'hilarious' FCUK t-shirt with 'my dick is as big as my ego' written on it.
Fittingly the lyrics are at the level you'd expect for someone who puts that much effort into their appearance, even drunken trance fans would be insulted. When Hard-Fi goes tits up (and I hope to god it's soon) he'll make a fortune writing lyrics for Rachel Stevens (Oh a dream job! - Ed) and other pop rejects. Songs like this are usually described as 'great drive time' songs, tracks you can sing along to on the way to the office. This is just a euphemism for 'your dad will want a copy'. Bah, just watch, there'll be a free album sampler with next months 'Gardeners World', mark my words. Can't wait.
Ali Safavi |
| Coding: Darren Burrows