There was a lively discussion on NME Radio this morning about irritating songs.
It’s a subject close to our hearts – although given that most of what gets played in our office is ear-chiselling noise like HEALTH and Fuck Buttons, perhaps our concept of what constitutes annoying music is a little skewed.
Anyway, here are the songs that make the veins in our temples throb. Join in below – although for the sake of the thread please explain your choices, don’t just give us the song title.
Alan Woodhouse: Oasis, ‘Champagne Supernova’. Because idiotic grown men still sway and cry along to it, without ever appearing to realise the lyric is just a load of coked-up bollocks (and not in a good way). And that guitar solo – horrendous.
Marc McLaren: Future Of The Left, ‘The Hope That House Built’. For some reason this song always brings to mind 13th century peasants marching on London with pitchforks. Maybe that shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. In one word: lumpen.
Tom Pinnock: Queen, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’. It’s not fun, it’s not life-affirming. It’s just a bludgeoning slice of forced jollity, complete with their trademark nauseating backing vocals and some of the most cliched and weirdly joyless lyrics ever.
Luke Lewis: Arctic Monkeys, ‘Crying Lightning’. The whole of ‘Humbug’ is so dismal and joyless, it’s like being tutted at for an hour by Compo from The Last Of The Summer Wine.
Emily Mackay: Doves, ‘Pounding’. That maddening four-four beat makes me feel like an enormous beige desert-boot of worthy, beardy, faux-experimental mediocrity is stamping on my face forever.
Paul Stokes: La Roux, ‘Bulletproof’. To me it just sounds so inane, something the Teletubbies would turn their TV screen stomachs at for being too cute.
David Moynihan: Lily Allen, ‘Fuck You’. Mind-numbingly bad lyrics and an entirely awful song based around one very weak punchline. Entertaining… if you’re eight.
Nathaniel Cramp: The Verve, ‘Love Is Noise’. What the hell is that barking sound? Sounds like feeding time at Battersea Dogs’ Home.
Hamish Macbain: Bloc Party, ‘Song For Clay (Disappear Here)’. “We stroll past the queue, into the magazine launch party/I am handed a pill and I swallow it with complete disdain.” AAAARGGGH!
James McMahon: Anything Sub-Editor Nat Cramp (otherwise a really nice guy) puts on the stereo. He seems to think he’s working in a student indie disco circa 1991. He repeatedly puts on music made by men singing about pretending to take heroin, all the while looking at their shoes. So yeah, anything by Swervedriver/Slowdive, et al.
Ben Patashnik: Glasvegas, ‘Daddy’s Gone’. If my child wrote this laboured series of ham-fisted cliches and made it sound as disgustingly overwrought as this, I’d be right out the door.
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