Never, not once, have I been unfortunate enough to witness anything as preposterously, mystifyingly awful as this...
When Cameron Crowe filmed his rock memoirs as [I]Almost Famous[/I] he created a fictional band, Stillwater, who were a little bit like [a]Lynyrd Skynyrd[/a] and a little bit like and [a]Led Zeppelin[/a] a little bit like a lot of other very good ’70s rock outfits. If, say, Les Dennis were to do the same, even he, as gormless, witless and pointless as he is, would struggle to come up with something as bad as [a]Andrew WK[/a]. Never, not once, have I been unfortunate enough to witness anything as preposterously, mystifyingly awful as this – and I’ve seen [I]Placebo[/I]. I was [I]paid[I] to be here and I still felt ripped off. Is this a first? Yes. Am I overstating the case? No.
Perhaps if I got moist at the idea of a front row seat at one of Ben Elton’s tourist-bait rock bonanzas, perhaps if I was so easily dazzled by volume I thought Meatloaf (a character played by Marvin Lee Aday remember, not a real person) was [I]kewl[I], perhaps if all I wanted from music was a chance to snigger a bit and headbang “ironically”, perhaps then I’d excuse [a]Andrew WK[/a]. But probably not.
So yes, they were loud and yes he wore white and jumped about a lot and yes every single song ( ‘She Is Beautiful’, for instance) sounded indistinguishable from another (like ‘Never Let Down’) and if that’s enough for you – and it was certainly enough for the balding [I]Pop Idol[/I] reject present who was dancing like a village idiot high on child porn – then great, enjoy the Rod Stewart musical. But, please, leave me the fuck alone.