Now! That’s what I call landfill

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SO there we were, trundling down the M6 on our way to an afternoon of retail therapy when our eight-year-old daughter piped up from the back seat: “Can we listen to my new CD I got for Christmas?”

Judging by my wife’s reaction, I may have physically winced at the suggestion because to my ears nearly all chart music today sounds like Crazy Frog on Ritalin – some bland R&B guff that’s had the very life auto-tuned out of it.

Anyway, we popped disc 1 of “Now That Song Sounds Just Like The Last One 77” in the CD player and waited for our ears to start bleeding.

Way back when, in the days when having a record in the Top 20 meant you’d sold more than 8,000 copies that week, I’m sure we can all remember some whingeing old fart in our lounge droning all the way through Top of the Pops that “it all sounds the same” and “there’s no tune” and “they don’t make ’em like they used to” and the old chestnut: “Is that a boy or a girl?”

See the Lancaster Guardian (14-01-11) for full story.