Avatar Four Word Reviews: Love Situation

I’m getting used to terrible albums mysteriously landing on my doormat now. I don’t know who sends them or why, but they keep on coming. Normally I’ve heard of the people involved – Vanilla Ice, Clock, that sort of thing, but I have to say I’ve never heard of Gary Wilmot before. I’ve searched the internet to no avail. He’s a complete unknown.

Still, here it is, a forgotten 80s classic: Love Situation by Gary Wilmot.

Gary Wilmot - Love Situation

The feeling I normally get while listening to music for these Four Word Reviews is that I struggle to care about the music I’m hearing, but this album was an interesting first, because I got the distinct feeling that Gary Wilmot didn’t care either. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to an entire album of music in which none of the participants show any sign of giving a damn about the music they’re mechanically churning out.

Of the 12 tracks here, four are cover versions. The eight original songs are without exception awful, with the sort of lyrics that slowly and deliberately tell you exactly what the song is about so there’s no space for imagination or subtlety, but it’s not clear whether Mr Wilmot thought that he could genuinely improve on the four songs he covers or whether he’s just using them as a way to avoid having to write any more drivel. In any case, all four are disasters.

In terms of the music, it sounds like someone listened to “A Winter’s Tale” by David Essex and decided to make a whole album like that. There’s almost no sound on the whole CD that is not made by one of the instrument settings on a Yamaha keyboard, though there is a bit of Carpenters-style subdued electric guitar once or twice that’s turned right down so it doesn’t get you too excited. Several of the songs fade out over the course of thirty seconds or more, sometimes from the middle of a chorus, which gives the impression that the producer has had enough and is trying to wrap it up early.

Track Title Word 1 Word 2 Word 3 Word 4
1 Love Situation Dreading eleven more tracks
2 On the Way to a Dream Synth clarinet and sadness
3 Unchained Melody Uninteresting rendition, unmitigated failure
4 And Now She’s Gone Allegedly emotional breakup ballad
5 Take My Breath Away Masterclass in slaughtering songs
6 Star Without a Soul “Raggy Dolls” backing vocal
7 Wind Beneath My Wings Emotionlessly plodding through dross
8 Expectation Road Overwrought ballad about loneliness
9 I Won’t Forget You Not even Gary cares
10 Against All Odds Nobody asked for this
11 Danny You’re a Loser China Crisis with crooning
12 There’s Only Room for the Good Girls Unsuccessfully channeling Billy Joel

Interestingly, after ten solid tracks of slow, quiet, bored-sounding crooning, the last two tracks suddenly pick up the pace, like a direct reversal of all those albums that have ten tracks of lively good stuff and then a couple of slow half-baked songs tacked on the end. Both of them are crap, but Danny You’re a Loser is almost the first appearance of any sort of beat, which is at least a welcome change if not actually pleasant listening, while There’s Only Room for the Good Girls might be a terrible song and a transparent pastiche of Billy Joel but is at least not more mushy, apathetic muttering over dreary keyboards. If they were the first two tracks you’d misguidedly think there was some hope for the album, so in that sense at least it is kinder to put them at the end.

In short, my favourite thing about this album is that it took four songs I already knew and didn’t like, and showed me how it would be possible to make them much worse, so that next time I hear any of them I can at least appreciate the fact that the originals are competently performed and that the singer seems to give a toss about them. My least favourite thing is that I still have no idea who Gary Wilmot is.

Avatar The Cheek of It

This completely took me by surprise!

 

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Now I am used to receiving abuse from family members, close friends, clients, the general public and the occasional letters through the post, but this is a new low. I was recently walking past a new development of houses and what did greet me upon turning my viewing eyes to the right? A sign in the window as above.

It would appear as though property is now turning its attention to me. I do not know what in particular it had against me and my award-winning personality and, quite frankly, I do not care either. I just wanted to make sure that this issue is brought to light so that others do not suffer in silence.

Thank you.

Avatar Four Word Reviews: To The Extreme

Everybody knows “Ice Ice Baby” by Vanilla Ice. It’s a cheesy old 90s rap song with stupid lyrics. While we can all laugh at it and perhaps in some contexts even enjoy it, Vanilla Ice himself and his music were hated by an awful lot of people at the time. Genuine rap fans hated him because he was the product of a record company, just some guy who was recruited to become a white rap star. Queen and Bowie fans hated him because he changed the bassline to “Under Pressure” so that he didn’t have to pay them royalties for sampling it on his biggest hit. He had no credibility. For those reasons, and a whole lot more, I wasn’t looking forward to listening through the entirety of his debut album, 1990’s To The Extreme.

To The Extreme

Let’s get straight to it, then: there’s nothing here to like. It’s just awful. This CD arrived in the post a while ago, a gift from a Beans member unknown, and I can safely say that this is the worst thing anyone has ever given to me. It is beyond worthless. The music itself is pretty poor, the lyrics are atrocious – you can tell they’re written by committee in a record company’s meeting room, ticking off a list of phrases young people and rappers say until they’ve all been shoehorned in one by one – but worst of all is the actual rapping. You can’t believe for a second that this nice middle class white guy wrote it or had ever lived the sort of life he’s talking about, and he would certainly never have said phrases like “you kno’ I’m sayin'” or “yo, you insane”.

Here are some phrases from the songs on this album:

  • “You can call me dad”
  • “Let me tell you how it is makin’ love on an inner tube”
  • “People under forty, yo, let’s get down”

Let’s see the damage, track by track.

Track Title Word 1 Word 2 Word 3 Word 4
1 Ice Ice Baby Fake gangsta rap classic
2 Yo Vanilla Five seconds of terrible
3 Stop That Train Mysogyny with bee-bop sample
4 Hooked Synth sax, unconvincing accent
5 Ice is Workin’ It Unclear what Ice worked
6 Life is a Fantasy It thinks it’s sexy
7 Play That Funky Music About race, mentions Nazis
8 Dancin’ Nauseating use of stereo
9 Go Ill Mostly tuned it out
10 It’s a Party Sampled women shouting “yeah”
11 Juice to Get Loose Boy Stupid high pitched interlude
12 Ice Cold Every eighties sample ever
13 Rosta Man Actually offensive Jamaican accent
14 I Love You Breathy, creepy, genuinely distressing
15 Havin’ a Roni Beatboxing disaster, mercifully short

Almost all the songs on the album are really long – proper five minuters – and a lot of them drag it out with stupid samples and repeated choruses. Tracks 6 and 14 both think they’re sexy and seductive, but they’re both creepy and actually quite repulsive, like Vanilla Ice’s tongue is coming out of your speakers and trying to lick your ear. “I Love You” comes complete with a fake telephone call where he tells his girlfriend how much he loves her. Track 7 is all about how he’s a white man making black music – so there is some self-awareness to the whole project at least – that then finds a way to mention the Nazis. Track 13 picks up the theme of borderline racism with Mr. Ice adopting something like a Jamaican accent and claiming he is a “rosta man”. It’s like he didn’t think he’d stuck two fingers up to enough of black culture and decided to go after Caribbeans as well as rappers.

In short, my favourite thing about this album was that the CD was correctly manufactured, meaning that when I finally ejected it, it came straight out with no trouble and didn’t play for a second longer than was strictly necessary. My least favourite thing was the fact that such a thing is in my possession at all and that I actually listened to the whole thing, god help me.

It looks like the next Four Word Review will be a toss-up between “Dead Letters” by the Rasmus and “Love Situation” by Gary Wilmot, either of which will be an actual pleasure after this ordeal.

Avatar Soul Stop

This morning I went to an establishment called the Soul Stop Café.

I ate breakfast there and had a cup of coffee and then, enjoying the ambience, I stayed a while longer to drink some tea.

It was only after leaving that I realised the terrible threat in the café’s name. Presumably, as a result of visiting and consuming their food and drink, which must have been treated in some way, my soul is going to stop.

If there is anyone here with a medical background, I urgently need to know what will happen when my soul stops and whether it’s possible to restart it. I am pretty worried here and I’m not sure if I should call an ambulance, so please respond as soon as you can. Thanks.

Avatar 29 Cats

lots-of-cats-in-a-tree129 Cats
Were sitting in a tree
Spread out on the branches
Drinking cups of tea

One little cat
Had enough to drink
Climbed up to the top
And had a little think

That little cat
Decided he should wee
But was very lazy
So did it in the tree

28 other cats
Sat lower in the tree
Now all wet and pissy
Decided they should flee

One lonely cat
Relieved but now alone
Sat atop his lonely tree
Reading Twitter on his phone

Avatar The Face Update: My Face

After an overwhelming number of requests, it was only fair that I provide an update about my face so everyone can stop pondering their ponders and querying their queries. If you have seen my face recently you may be a little shocked as to the present state and condition of it, so I would respectfully and humbly ask that all of you take a seat before reading the rest of this post.

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The Face

As you can see, the majority of my face is now just a nose. This nose takes up approximately 80% of what used to be my face. Can you even still call it a face when most of it is a nose? Nobody knows. All I know is that things have become a lot more nasal as a result of this.

The Nose

The nose continues to grow at an exponential rate. Scientists predict that within three weeks I will have lost my face altogether. It will cease to exist and only one massive, humongous nose, attached to a pair of arms and legs, will walk around pretending to be me. I will resemble Chris the Cheese but instead of a large block of cheese I will resemble a huge conk, and small school children will haphazardly wander into and up my nasal cavity in the hope of finding their lost kites and skateboards.

The Eye

In addition to this, another shocking revelation is that one of my eyes has been replaced by a BBC news presenter in the middle of reporting an interesting piece about China. This article repeats every seven minutes and whilst it has become a repetitive and somewhat annoying inclusion, it is very informative and has won several awards. Seeing through it is no longer an option; I have taken to wearing an eye patch, much like pop chanteuse Gabrielle, to cover my iron shame.

Conclusion

… I should probably go see a doctor.

Avatar Broken

In the last two weeks, the following things have broken.

  • My central heating boiler, which was broken for a week
  • My phone, which had to be sent off for a week and a half
  • My coffee pot, which still isn’t fixed
  • My watch, which still isn’t fixed
  • My iPod, which I had buy parts to fix myself

This has been dispiriting and distressing, and has severely tested my fortitude.

If you are thinking of breaking any of my possessions, or in any way modifying them so that they break in a seemingly accidental way, or if you become aware that one of my possessions may break or suffer a breakage-like incident, please inform me in writing at least two days beforehand so that I can prepare myself mentally and physically.

Thank you.

Avatar Mosaic: Four Word Reviews

Kev and Sarah’s considered and insightful reviews of the Papples’ latest album has inspired me to do something similar with one of the presents Ian gave me for Christmas – that being the 1986 album “Mosaic” by Wang Chung.

I was particularly excited when I opened the cellophane to discover that this seems to be an original pressing which has been waiting patiently in its box since 1986, and the booklet inside is starting to show its 30 years a bit. The music inside is as fresh as ever, though. The title comes, of course, from the lyrics of the final track, in which Wang Chung tell us that the world is a mosaic upon a golden floor.

Wang Chung Mosaic

Read More: Mosaic: Four Word Reviews »