New Music Roundup: in which Dr Yobbo buys new CDs and complains about them

We begin (and, to be fair, pretty much end) this edition of the World of Bollocks' New Music Roundup (now rainfast in 2 hours!) with the usual whinge that shit ain't what shit used to be. Typically, the New Music Roundup involves actual reviews of albums recently purchased by Your Correspondent, with vaguely intellectual discussion ref what makes each better or worse than its predecessors or contemporaries. Except, in a sure sign that Your Correspondent is ancient, decrepit and washed-the-fuck-up, the last crop of buys were so unfailingly poor that a one-size-fits-all policy has been adhered to.

World of Bollocks New CD Review
__________________ [insert album name], the [second/latest/umpteenth] album from __________________ [insert band name], fails to live up to the heights reached by the previous release from this outfit, [insert name of last album which was a shitload better]. The songwriting is listless, with the spark and spunk of its predecessor lost amidst the self-indulgence, navel-gazing and general wanking on that characterises this effort. A veritable smorgasboard of filler, and precious little killer. Two stars.

Included in the above exercise in bone-lazy journalism (hey, at least we actually bought and listened to the fucking things, unlike US Maxim) are the following sorry efforts:

You Am I, Dilettantes
Fat, lazy and full of navel-gazing and in-jokes, which was what got them fired from BMG in the first place to make room for more Idol rejects. The fire and anger of Convicts (2007), their first album after being punted from their original label, has sadly dissipated, replaced by smug self-assuredness. They could do with being a bit less fucking comfortable again. Buy Convicts instead, particularly if you can get it with the 'Live at the Wireless' bonus CD - if only for the story of how Tex Perkins once butt-pounded Marcus Graham (allegedly for a prison sex education film.)

AC/DC, Black Ice
Physically pains me to write this, as a rural bogan of note, but while Black Ice is not a particularly poor album, it's no Back In Black, or even Ballbreaker. For an AC/DC record, there's a surprising amount of crap on this album. It's OK, but Your Correspondent's theory that the best AC/DC album released in the past few years was actually recorded by Airborne seems to have been proven by experiment. Go buy Runnin' Wild instead. And next time, Acca Dacca veterans, just subcontract the fucking thing out to the young fullahs and go back to the golf course.

The Fratellis, Here We Stand
Not a poor album, but no advance on Costello Music - just a shabbier, success-addled Xerox of same, with less hits and more self-indulgence. The single Mistress Mabel - if you're not already sick to the gills of it as Ten's beach cricket anthem - and Tell Me A Lie are album highlights, but you're better off filing through the bargain bin at JB Hi Fi looking for the original. That said, our old honours student reckons they go well live, and has a drumstick from last night's ANU show to prove it. Groupie.

The Datsuns, Headstunts
Like most old Datsuns, dependable and reliable but gradually becoming more crap with age. Still haven't recovered from releasing a fucking masterpiece as their debut album and never managing to top it in the years since. We're a glass-half-full concern here at the World of Bollocks, and this is certainly a glass-half-full album - So Long and Your Bones need to be cranked with extreme voluminence - but it's what the other half is full of that's the issue here.

The Wiggles, You Make Me Feel Like Dancing
Derivative, lazy and massively disappointing. Since losing their lead singer, it soon became clear that the highest grossing Australian rock act in history was headed down the INXS path rather than the AC/DC one. Many of the songs on this album are rehashed slop lifted note-for-note from previous recordings - including, astonishingly, the album's direct predecessor Wiggle And Learn! - and it's clear that the aging skivvied millionaires are taking the piss on this effort. They've even exhumed Leo Sayer for fuck's sake. Of course, this won't matter a toss - they're raking in the coin with a big fuck-off croupier's stick and are laughing all the way to the bank. (Unless it's RBS. Or Stanford's). The Red Wiggle already owns half my old street.


Since that lot largely amounted to a wet sack of shit, we choose to gratuitously pad out this edition of the WoB NMR by lazily swapping the first two words in the title, pluralising the second and extruding the following:

World of Bollocks Music News Update
All the news that's printed to be fit, innit
(with special correspondent Mike Skinner from the Streets, apparently)

• Powderfinger guitarist Ian Haug is suing Jupiters Casino, claiming their hired goons roughed him up in 2006 when he was celebrating a birthday at the neon-stained pit of human suffering that deserves one day to sink into an unholy vortex of pitiless evil in proportion to itself. The Fingerist, whose members have had a long history of kicking off and creating havoc when out on the turps, claims his wrists were “bent, twisted and restrained with significant pressure and excessive force” and that because of the incident, his playing technique has been forced to change. Which may explain why their last album was so desperately fucking ordinary.
  

• China have told Oasis to fuck off, labelling the act 'unsuitable'. Ostensibly this is the result of the band playing a Tibetan freedom gig 12 years ago, but the fact that both Gallagher brothers are gobby twunts (particularly Noel) of no discernable talent (particularly Liam) who haven't released a decent album since Definitely Maybe/Morning Glory (an argument in itself) possibly informed the Central Committee's thinking on the issue.

• Bono says Chris Martin from Coldplay is a wanker. Jesus, where do we start with that one, we could be here for days. A sanctimonious self-aggrandizing cock sledging a marshmallow-soft arriviste ponce - neither of which Your Correspondent would piss on if they were on fire - for the International Pot-Kettle Heavyweight Championship.
  You know what, fuck it, write your own material for that one.

• Maroon 5 have a new album out.
  Music has officially ended. Everybody get the hell out.

The Doctor is getting the hell OUT.