AND NOW, A QUICK WORD FROM SOMEONE WHO WASN'T ASKED TO CONTRIBUTE BUT DID SO ALL THE SAME...
Hello there. I am ever-so-slightly manufactured international singing sensation Kelly Clarkson and I would like to welcome you all to another exciting adventure in the land of televisionoff.
Here I am pretending to be a Goth when, let's face it, if I was a Goth, my music wouldn't be quite so f%^&ing terrible and perhaps a bit more like something decent. If you look me up on the internet you will find lots of really nasty stuff about how I'm fat now when I used to be thin. This is because most people on the internet are like, total bell-ends.
Anyway, I'm not here to discuss Doctor Who (let's face it, that would be pretty weird, wouldn't it? A bit like Jesus suddenly appearing in your front room and starting to lecture you in depth on the Underwater Menace. Okay, maybe that would be TOO weird, but anyway).
I'm not even here to sing at you or talk about how I like, totally rock dude. Instead I'm going to just shut up and let the owner of this here blog step up to the mike and spit his totally wicked flow all over you.
Some of it has something to do with me. I can't think why since this is supposed to be a Doctor Who blog.
Quite frankly I feel cheated. Dirty and cheated.
LET'S MIME AGAIN LIKE WE DID LAST SUMMER
The idea of authenticity in popular music is a thorny issue. Either it must exist at all costs, or it doesn't exist at all; and nothing really matters when it comes to artists supposedly being artists and not just blank-eyed robotic zombies dancing to the tune of sinister extraterrestrial string-pullers who manipulate events and outcomes from behind the scenes, with nary a concern for the outcome outside of the realms of making as much cash as possible. This whole subject is a particular area of obsession for me, and in the temporary absence of any interesting Doctor Who stuff to write about (but be afraid, cos there's plenty of that just around the bend) we shall be exploring hereforth, and thusly.
Miming among popstars is another thing that bizarrely fascinates me. I very recently and quite by accident saw the closing moments of an episode of Loose Women (it really was an accident, honest, I tripped, fell, hit the TV and my hand accidentally switched it onto ITV, not something any sane person would do at the best of times).
Kelly Clarkson was on (by and large a not-bad singer, although regrettably her music is clearly produced by not even a hundred monkeys) and was 'performing' her most recent single. Ms Clarkson seemed to start the song off by singing live (presumably to give the impression that this was actually what she now does for a living), but by the time the chorus kicked in the miming seemed to be in full effect.
She didn't quite do what they usually do when miming on rubbish TV shows, ie try to avoid the glaring eye of the camera by attempting to hide her mouth behind the microphone, as if somewhere else on the stage we were about to be introduced to some disturbing ventriloquist's dummy which we would believe was actually singing the words - but instead Ms. Clarkson and 'her people' just assumed the audience watching at home were COMPLETELY F^&%ING STUPID.
The idea of authenticity in popular music is a thorny issue. Either it must exist at all costs, or it doesn't exist at all; and nothing really matters when it comes to artists supposedly being artists and not just blank-eyed robotic zombies dancing to the tune of sinister extraterrestrial string-pullers who manipulate events and outcomes from behind the scenes, with nary a concern for the outcome outside of the realms of making as much cash as possible. This whole subject is a particular area of obsession for me, and in the temporary absence of any interesting Doctor Who stuff to write about (but be afraid, cos there's plenty of that just around the bend) we shall be exploring hereforth, and thusly.
Miming among popstars is another thing that bizarrely fascinates me. I very recently and quite by accident saw the closing moments of an episode of Loose Women (it really was an accident, honest, I tripped, fell, hit the TV and my hand accidentally switched it onto ITV, not something any sane person would do at the best of times).
Kelly Clarkson was on (by and large a not-bad singer, although regrettably her music is clearly produced by not even a hundred monkeys) and was 'performing' her most recent single. Ms Clarkson seemed to start the song off by singing live (presumably to give the impression that this was actually what she now does for a living), but by the time the chorus kicked in the miming seemed to be in full effect.
She didn't quite do what they usually do when miming on rubbish TV shows, ie try to avoid the glaring eye of the camera by attempting to hide her mouth behind the microphone, as if somewhere else on the stage we were about to be introduced to some disturbing ventriloquist's dummy which we would believe was actually singing the words - but instead Ms. Clarkson and 'her people' just assumed the audience watching at home were COMPLETELY F^&%ING STUPID.
MY WIFE WOULD SUCK WITHOUT YOU
As indeed I was beginning to feel at this very point, starting to imagine Shnorbitz, Lord Charles or some other variety act puppet I can't quite remember from the mists of the early eighties singing a soft-rock power-ballad. (Warning - the following sentence may contain traces of capital letters)It was then that I noticed Ms. Clarkson's 'band.' A word I must use in ENORMOUS INVERTED COMMAS as there were SEVEN of them including her. Two backing vocalists (one with a guitar) TWO FURTHER GUITARISTS, a bassist, drummer, and, most importantly, a keyboardist. Even though there were NO KEYBOARDS ON THE F$%^ING TRACK AT ALL.
Or that many guitars. Holy crud. Most extreme metal bands don't need three guitarists. Quite distressingly, all the 'players' looked as if they were thoroughly enjoying themselves, and almost miming convincingly. Apart from the backing singers who were either pretending to sing Ms. Clarkson's vocal parts or both had exactly the same voice as her, which is surely a bit embarrassing if you show up one day to do backing vocals and turn out to have the same voice as the actual proper singer.
I didn't pay much attention to the actual song, I was too busy working myself into an irrational frenzy of furniture-smashing rage by getting incensed by the THREE GUITARISTS.
Three. And a bassist. And two more singers. And an imaginary keyboardist.
THREE of them???? And yet no puppet show. WHY?????!!!! (?!)
It must be Gordon Brown's fault. If you listen really closely, every time he speaks, Susan Boyle's voice comes out.
OUR GLORIOUS LEADER!!!
Ah, hello there. I've also got nothing to do with Doctor Who. Other than that I might be about to go on a very long hiatus.
I'm also not a Nazi. Honest.
I think Doctor Who is great! I'm going to be showing up next season in a very special guest appearance. I'm going to be playing a Dalek.
They're nothing like Nazis either! Honest!!
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