The last photons sear their way across the sky and darkness descends like a gloved hand over my eyes. Any further progress across this infinite plain must now be achieved by touch alone yet every handful of sand falls through my fingers, just like the last. What is up? Where is Down? Is a move forward a move back or am I merely circling the same vague outcrop, in an illusion of momentum? Yes, dear reader, It is I, Rich Shapero and once again I am lost, crawling, forgotten and in need of suckers. I twist onto my back, a salty tear cutting a silent scream through my dusty mask and suddenly the tear is all; the universe contained, I am turned inside out, falling through my tears, surrounded by stars and I hear him calling; urging me into his arms, ah! Salvation is mine…
Mabel – Mad Love
Hmm, Mabel is a funny name in this day and age; hang on…… Oh wow, it’s her real name, daughter of Neneh Cherry no less and there’s more: to quote Wikipedia – ‘Mabel is the daughter of Swedish singer Neneh Cherry and Massive Attack record producer Cameron McVey, and granddaughter of jazz legend Don Cherry’. Ah, now it makes sense – One word : nepotism. Nothing else can explain how this abomination got to see the light of day. A song about fucking designed for the mass market, i.e. about as sexy as the name Mabel.
Tiësto, Jonas Blue & Rita Ora – Ritual
Gah, another song about fucking that hasn’t the courage of its convictions. I’m showing my age. One of those songs with a half decent chorus which, for forms sake, has to be encumbered by the tedious necessity of verses. Why do they bother? They could just as easily have the chorus on a loop for 3 ½ fucking minutes and nobody would complain (it’s what they do at the end after all when the pressure’s off). Rather that than this lukewarm attempt at structure or songwriting. I guess it’s the producers of this record gamely attempting to justify what they’ve just ‘created’ as in some way ‘art’. Pffft!
Stormzy – Crown
Come on Stormzy, help me out man! Oh, thank God, it’s not awful. The difference between this track and the two above is that I can see Michael Ebenazer Kwadjo Omari Owuo Jr actually sitting down, y’know, with collaborators, sure, and actually writing this song. The other two are Orwells Versificator come to life – music designed to dull the human mind. This track is pretty good, feels like a genuine stab at something less bombastic from the titular artist and uses its subdued palette to evoke actual human emotions. Well fucking done.
The tentacles withdraw, the fronds depart and I softly float, in awe and wonder at the complexity of the silent abyss. The light returns but does not dazzle, no. It sooths the frinkles, laps the splines and lulls me to sleep, once again.