The year is 2014. In an alternate universe somewhere, the forgettable musicians of today, the ones who can’t quite seem to take the hint and go away, will not just get away with being dropped and touring for all eternity, oh no. In this universe, say, my universe, these fringe musicians have a choice: success or forced labour. When I say forced labour I don’t mean breaking rocks/ shoveling shit/ picking up litter until eventual speedy death, more like pushed into an appropriate work sphere that would suit their (assumed) talents. I, for one, have had quite enough of the constant reappearances of people I thought to be gratefully distant memories. I’m tired of re-experiencing the same tawdry old bollocks that didn’t really shape up the first time round, or something people just don’t seem to care about any more. That’s why, in universe B, I’m calling the shots, and this is how it’s going to go down. Watch out, average bros and gals, it’s time to do some real work (touring is not "real work", real work is sitting in bed cussing other people all day, so check your privilege).
With a name like an enchanted-forest-themed casino on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Bromley’s Pixie Lott achieved success with debut album Turn It Up. Her deep-ish voice, pretty face and many thousands of crystalline white teeth garnered her popularity among British pop sensibilities in the late zero-zeros. But we’re in a new decade now, and new things need addressing. Look at Ukraine, shit show over there at the moment isn’t it? Don’t get me started on Venezuala/ North Korea/ Libya/ Syria etc, because I don’t know the first thing about them. International politics is not Pixie’s calling, however. No, once the charade is done, she will tour the world giving lectures to weird men on how to talk to women. Airport hotel halls will be jam packed full of sweat gland operators as Lott describes the difference between a ‘heavy opener’ and ‘heavy breathing’. She’ll point to a projected image of a woman with ‘do not touch’ arrows pointing to places like the ears and bottom eyelid. She will be doing the world an untold service, both woman and mankind respectively. She will break them down and build them like a ‘50s colonel. They will go in as bronies and leave as Brosnans. Godspeed, Pixie.
No use for this one. Too annoying and self obsessed to work with anyone, too boring for a creative role, too tempestuous to be safe in any coherent business environment. Must be something we can do…
That’s it! Touring mannequin! Azealia loves clothes (she basically invented seapunk and weave and tumblr, idiots), so the job of honorary mannequin in the windows of shops is totally perfect. She'd be able to tour stores around the world; Harrods, The Mall Of America, Tokyo Hands, Tesco - in fact she’ll do more touring as a mannequin than she ever did in her deservedly short lived career! Can't tweet that you're label who've been tearfully ploughing money into your career are dickheads when you're holding a pose!
This group of artists, mostly, boils down to ‘do we really need one of those?’. In the case of riot-predicting, ruby-loving, Wilhelm-respecting lads the Kaiser Chiefs, I’m not so sure we do. Sure, we all had a laugh jumping up and down to "Oh My God", but times have changed and so has the #MusicalLandscape…for the better. To be honest with you, I have a more attractive proposition for Ricky and the boys. Get this, lads: milkmen. Stay with me. You will be the most rowdy fucking milkmen that Leeds has ever seen. Your float will be huge, with Richard at the wheel, Andy White doing lines off the dashboard, Nick Hodgson and Baines hanging onto the side, lobbing bottles at doors with one hand and drinking White Lightning with the other. Simon is bringing up the rear on a sled tied to back end of the float, the cunt's out of it anyway, too much Xanax and Valiums. Imagine it, Chiefs: door to door milkery, getting your end away here and there with a silk-robed lonely house wife. There’s streets of them out there, I’ve seen films about it! You don’t have a choice anyway, get on the fucking milk float before I pump a round of hollow points in your solar plexus.
Wait, she’s making music again? I thought she exiled herself from relevancy by proclaiming a name change and motherly attitude? She did? Oh so what’s coming up now? Sheezus? One steaming hot relevancy exile coming right up! Perhaps in this second run of self imposed shut in loneliness she can meditate on some of her views on women (spoiler: they’re not very progressive).
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