I Hate Music
SENSES OF SHAME – Smells Like Teen Spirit
In 1991 rock was at its lowest ever ebb. Forget the ironic reappraisal of hair metal: it stank. Little did I know things would soon get even worse. The title of “Smells like Teen Spirit” comes from some grafitti Kathleen Hanna wrote on Kurt Cobain’s wall: “Kurt smells like Teen Spirit” – that being a deodorant. My suspicion is that if Hanna felt Kurt’s use of deodorant merited a wall-sized headline the man’s personal hygiene was poor. Pictures of the straggly man-beast seem to back this up. The dreadful single “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was in fact the first of many Cobain claims to have “cleaned up” – a phrase most critics have wrongly taken as referring to drugs, rather than bathwater. In its cryptic lyrics he confessed that his soap-dodging ways had gone so far as to leave him “contagious”. “I’m worst at what I do best” he caterwauls – that being “not washing”. Never has the old saying been more apt: he who smelt it, dealt it.
SENSES OF SHAME
Touch Me- Samantha Fox
In many ways Samantha Fox wanting us to touch her should not surprise us. As the most famous Page 3 girl the Sun ever had, she was certainly used to being seen. What difference would a bit of touching make? Well perhaps the subtitle (I Want Your Body) might give you pause for thought. If you know anything about body vampirism and possession at least.
Now I am not saying that Sam Fox is some sort of evil demon who will take over your mind, body and soul (though having seen her on a number of reality TV shows the evil demon bit is plausible). But look at the lyrics. It starts with it being full moon. And then the very phrase that she was hunting him down. And yet when she does get to touch him, he is gone, quick as a flash. The only solution. That his soul has been destroyed by her vampiric ways.
That is one reading of the song anyway. The other one is that it is a tawdry cash-in on her tits-out occupation. Which may well be confirmed by these lyrics:
Like a tramp in the night
I was begging you
To treat my body like you wanted to
SENSES OF SHAME
People often ask me if I would be happier deaf. That is the kind of sensitive talk that passes as conversations in the gin-haunts of Bloomsbury and Finsbury, and yes I suppose if music and banal conversation is all I get then deafness might be the way forward. However, I like the soft whispers in the night, the roar of a fully-laiden bus up the Pentonville Road and the sound of my own voice shouting at incompetents playing their din too loud next door. No, deafness was an option I disregarded a long time ago.
Anyway, it is not as if music does not infect the other senses. The writhing of dancers on so-called music television. The tap tap of syncopation along with dunderheaded drum solos. The smell of leather trousers as worn by greasy heavy metal males. Even taste, the sense that should be safely housed within my mouth is tainted by the terrible taste of anyone who likes music. Especially house music.
So I over the next five days I shall present to you my five senses of shame. And maybe a sixth sense too, since I can magically sense if music is terrible. The clue is, it exists.
LIES AND THE LYING LIARS ETC.
Surely they have reneged on this deal then. Back in 1981 when they released October. Take this to the High Courts now, a deal is a deal.
In other news, Britney is writing a ‘letter of truth’ to her fans, to be posted on her website by the end of the month. “It is making closure with a lot of things – I think this is my ultimate truth”. You wouldn’t think it would take a whole month to write the truth about Britney but she does have plenty on her ‘plate’ at the moment. Meanwhile we have exclusively obtained an early first draft of this letter of truth.
Sory about all teh records.