I've had a bit of a eureka moment. I don't know why it took me so long, but I've finally realised it. I've realised exactly why I hate the thing I hate more than anything else in the world ever.
It's Country House by Blur, obviously - of course it is, what else would it be? - but we'll get to that. Have you ever just sat around wondering why you hate something so much, feeling that perhaps it's an irrational loathing that can't be explained? Well, that's how I'd always felt about it. But then I decided to look at all the reasons. Firstly, were there reasons? Yes. Yes, there were.
It's not that I hate this tedious, cynical piece of shit because it annoys me musically. It's not because it, and the miserably dreadful 'Roll With It' by the Monobrow Brothers vied for the number one slot in the apotheosis of Britfuckingpop. It's worse than everything else. And here are the reasons why.
1. Worst guitar solo ever
It's a strange one to start with, I'll grant you. But it is. What the fuck are they? Notes plucked at random? Widdly widdly weeeeee weeee TINKLY TINKLY WAHHHH FUCK OFF, YOU'RE A PROFESSIONAL MUSICIAN.
2. Cod Kinks cockwipery
"Hey, Well Respected Man was a good song, wasn't it? I wonder if we could do something similar, but really fucking awful, but try and make it the Well Respected Man de nos jours. You know, not because we're any good, or it would be any good, but because it would be a bit like the Kinks. Because we're always being compared to the Kinks. By people who don't understand music, or life, or things, or comparisons."
Oh fuck. Off. He's reading Balzac, knocking back Prozac. What the fuck for? Just because it rhymes. Oh, fuck off. Balzac, Prozac, though, isn't it whimsical? NO, NO IT'S NOT. IT'S NOT EVEN THE SLIGHTEST BIT WHIMSICAL. KICKING ME IN THE FACE WITH A FUCKING BUILDER'S BOOT WOULD BE WHIMSICAL, IN COMPARISON.
4. The video
Hey look, it's Brit actor Keith Allen, he's a card! And some ladies from Loaded magazine! Haw haw haw!
5. Shove in some fucking brass
Hmm, this doesn't sound wanky enough yet. I know, let's add some shit brass to churn it right up! Like the Benny Hill Show theme tune but without all those troublesome nuances.
When Chas & Dave did the Crackerjack theme tune in the 1980s, they stuck in an "Ooohhhh". As in "Oohhhh, such a luvlee word, it's Crackerjack." But Chas and Dave had (and have) class. The "Ooohhhhh" made sense. It wasn't just a "ho ho, cockernay knees up" load of cockchafing art school pissery. Chas and Dave are cockneys, but they are cockneys with skill, and graft. Look at the Great Soprendo dancing! Look at him! Tell me that's not better than Country House. With a straight face. Go on. (NB I'm not saying Albarn & chums aren't cockneys. I seem to remember they are. All I'm saying is they're shit. Which they also are. Whereas Chas and Dave aren't.)
7. "OOOoooohhhh, lives in a house, a very big house..."
What sort of house does he live in, Damon? A very big one? Oh, I see!
I can't recall if it's oops or whoops. I am not going to find out. That would mean listening to the entire four cunting minutes of Satan's farts that is Country House and I don't have the will to do it. "Thought to himself, whoops, I've got a lot of money." Who thinks that? "Whoops, I've got a lot of money." Whoops? Oops? Why? Why would you think of saying oops? Oops is what people say when they drop a gravy-soaked knife off the dinnerplate. That's all. Not 'having a lot of money all of a sudden'.
9. I am so sad, I don't know why
I do. I do NOW. NOW WE KNOW WHY HE WAS SO SAD.
10. Breathlessly whining 'mortaliteeeeeeeeee'
Oh, if you can't even be bothered to sing it properly, give up. Go home. Think to yourself, whoops, you've got a lot of money, and fuck off into the country, where you can take HERBAL BATHS and not DRINK SMOKE LAUGH.
11. That one of you will take this seriously
and try and say "Aha, but actually, it was a parody of something or other written about someone or other who's slightly famous if you give a shit about these things, and you see, it's actually quite clever, and something." I don't care! It's not good. It's never been good. It never will be good. It's the worst thing ever, worse than death, worse than Hitler and murder and everything. It's lazy, wishy-washy, can't-be-arsed shove-it-up-your-arse-anyway showing off, and it smells of cancer.
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