The Cheek: Contribution #1

Here is a copy of an article I wrote for The Cheek (Issue #7). A shiny version can be found at The Cheek.

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Thanks to the rising availability of computer generated music it is possible for any talentless banshee to create a grating, repetitive dance track, and more often than not, they do. In the vast mire of commercially available dance headaches it is necessary for a track to have a unique selling point in order to stand out.

Acts used to incorporate a direct plea to have their music played, using attention grabbing titles such as Hey DJ and the less ambiguous Hey DJ (Play That Song). And who could forget the forgettable hit from DJ RCT Ow DJ (You Gonna Play This Song or What Like?).

It is interesting, then, to see Cascada rise to the top of the charts with the track Evacuate the Dancefloor, which does not employ these gimmicky methods. In fact it seems Cascada have utilised schoolyard reverse psychology in order to manufacture heavy rotation of their track, emploring everyone within cacophonous yelping distance to remove themselves from the area reserved for rhythmic motions, or Evacuate the Dancefloor, if you'd prefer.

Odd that a song would describe it's own noise as "like an overdose", the symptoms of which include dizziness, disorientation, nausea, vomiting, and oscillopsia. Having listened to the track I can confirm some side effects, and to be honest I am touched by the band's honest and frank admission. In listening to the track I certainly experienced a degree of nausea.

The singer also claims to have been "infected by the sound". Wikipedia describes an infection as "the detrimental colonization of a host organism by a foreign species". So essentially this track is like music aliens invading your brain, in a bad way. This is supported by the following line "stop this beat is killing me". One wonders how such a dangerous track was ever allowed to be made commercially available.

Worryingly the final line in a number of the choruses is "Hey little DJ let the music take me underground". Even overlooking the extremely patronising "little" in that line, it certainly seems that the lyricist of Cascada is harboring self-destructive tendencies. Far be it for me to speak out against the euthanasia of vacuous dance outfits, some sacrifices are hardly sacrifices at all. It is, however, a harmful message to be sending out for the little dance droids. An alternative version of this line advocates burning the dancefloor, which is despicable. There is nothing funny about arson (not unless you remove the last two letters).

So somehow the mystic music charts have ensured that the number one spot is inhabited by the teeth-grinding noise of Cascada. Cue three and a half minutes of footage of a posing tool. Strangely the woman from Cascada looks remarkably like an R.E. teacher I once had, the main difference being a noticable lack of strutting and wailing to a backing track of ear-rupturing dance noise like a public service announcement from the seventh circle of synth hell. Instead, she taught R.E. I preferred this. Unquestionably, the woman from Cascada is attractive, and that is, of course, enough to get to Number One, even pipping the recently deceased Michael Jackson to the post.

What we can learn from this is that you can't cheat your way to the top by using cheap gimmick titles for your songs, or by dying suddenly just before a huge farewell tour. It is also possible that Jacko isn't number one because a consensus wasn't reached about which song to back. There is nothing worse than a disorganised fan-base. Apart from death. Jackson just can't win. I suppose it is some consolation for him that "woo"-filled funk-fest Billie Jean reached number two. It's what he would have wanted, though he probably would have preferred a number one. And not to have died.

Congratulations are in order to Cascada however, they now enjoy their place in an elite group of artists that have achieved Number Ones over the years, their contemporaries include Bob the Builder and Crazy Frog. Truly the highest echelon of musical recognition.

Correspondence in Twilight

I suppose this is pretty much cheating but I may as well put it here.  Please find enclosed below a message sent to a friend regarding the film Twilight.

Hay Daf, I was wondering if the very popular film Twilight was still running in the cinema, as I would like to go and see it, due to the overwhelming torrent of good news I have heard in regards to it.

One of the main good points I have heard in regard to this film is that the lead role is played simply amazingly, in what some would describe as a tour de force from the main man, Edward Cullen.

I have also heard tell that the film contains very realistic character motivation, so much so that you can almost imagine yourself acting exactly as the characters would were you put into their situation. Also it is a credit to Edward Cullen's majestic acting ability that he is able to transform a character so typically connected to iciness and callousness, namely a vampire, into a character which is able to inflame the gussets of unstable women with tendencies to necrophilia across the country, even the world.

I am also confused as to how the main character, as played by Edward Cullen, is able to have ‘marble arms’ as he is oft reported as having. For me, the pros of having arms made out of marble are surely dwarfed by the cons, especially for a vampire. The description of ‘marble arms’ reminds me more of characters such as Hellboy or the Thing. The idea that the scrawny frame of Edward Cullen could handle to immense weight that arms made out of marble would mean is utterly farcical. Even if they were arms made out of less cumbersome stone material it would still cause more problems than they would solve. For arms of granite, slate or pebbledash bring with them their own set of unique setbacks.

Perhaps if the character played by Edward Cullen had teeth made out of granite, rather than arms, this could be of more use to his vampiric deeds. For instance this would ensure that if human blood was in short supply he would be able to feast upon animals with thicker hides, such as bison, ox or elephant.
It is with no malice or facetiousness that I suggest that Edward Cullen would be unable to function with marble arms. It brings me great emotional stress to imagine poor old Edward, dragging his rocky limbs behind him, with his pebbled knuckles dragging through the mire, making him look less like a vampire and more like an undead miserable ape.
Apart from this, I think that it is probably a very good cinematic experience.

I provide this picture of a devoted fan.

To clarify, the message, above, is an elaborate ploy in order to infuriate the gentlemen who's picture I have so professionally doctored.

Upon discovering my message and photograph, he had the following to say:

Please note that this is not a speech bubble emanating from my person, rather it is some poor unfortunate who has undergone radical cosmetic surgery in order to transform their skull into a gargantuan monstrosity which conveys their perverse love for an entirely fictitious and unbelievable character from a piece of second rate literature. In fact, this should not be considered literature, rather it should be considered glorified novelty toilet paper which is provided in a convenient package capable of being secreted inside one's handbag or knapsack. 



The gurn into which I have sculpted my mug is, in fact, a manner which I adopted in order to convey my delirious abhorrence at the time. It is also used in order to convey my contempt for the mental patient who underwent the aforementioned surgery. 



Furthermore, I adopted this dress in order to portray the commonly held stereotype of vampiric costume and not to emulate an absolutely infuriating character who causes me to physically vomit into my own mouth and spit it out into my hand, or if there is a Christ available, his gaping anus. 

I would like to voice my absolute disgust and hurt regarding the connotations of this photograph, which was clearly meant to be interpreted out of context.



Due to the stress and upset caused to me and my family, I shall be seeking legal aid and also the services of a qualified assassin, brute and all round ruffian in order to extract both legal and natural justice from your person.
Yours sincerely,
Disgruntled in Trefforest.

p.s "Twilight" is arse-mangle (ruinous feces and buttocks) of the highest order and i want everything about it to stop being. Long live literature! Down with Stephanie Meyer! May her creations be condemned to book-nazi bonfires.

I hope that this epic is as humorous to an onlooker as it is to me.

P.S. The matter has since been settled out of court for an undisclosed fee.