EVERYBODY'S SOMEONE

LeAnn Rimes and Brian McFadden

Let’s say you’ve got a song. Yes, you. It’s your song, and you’re proud of it. Do you see what I’m doing here? I’m trying to build up some sort of emotional connection between you and what I’m writing here. I don’t know if it’ll work, but stick with it, you never know. Anyway, you’ve got a song. We’ve established that. And this song of yours, it’s good, but it’s rough around the edges. That’s no problem, a little bit of spit and polish and hoy bungo! You now have a potential smash hit on your hands. Everybody’s going to love you and want you on the front page of all the big music mags that are left – basically that means you only need to set a date free in your diary for the NME. It’s not all bad news being a pop star though, now there’s no Top Of The Pops you get weekends off so you can still nip down the road to Brunton Park or Sharpenhoe Road and watch the football. At least, that’s the plan, but something’s happened to your song. It’s been transformed. Your rough diamond of a tune’s been polished and buffed and sanded so much that all that’s left is a perfect sphere of boredom. There’s nothing interesting left, no signs of anything above average, nothing. Some people define “living life to the full” by doing extreme sports like chucking themselves off cliffs with only a parachute and the ground to slow their descent. Other people define that same phrase as “eating three Shredded Wheat” and that’s what you get here. Two singers who sound like they’re doing a professional job… and that’s it. The guitarist sounds like he’s on loan from Ceefax and really, there’s so little going on here it makes Last Of The Summer Wine look like Pulp Fiction. If this really was your song, you’d probably be livid and I wouldn’t blame you.

ALL NIGHT LONG

Blazin' Squad

Oh no, not again. Their last album bombed – that surely means an imminent dumping by the record label and a rapid descent into obscurity! Evidently not. The band then exploded – some members go off and form Friday Hill, others disappear and before you know it, over half the line-up’s gone walkies. If almost any other band suddenly lost 60% of its membership in one go, that’d be it. No need to bother getting in replacements, no point limping on with what’s left, that’s your lot and all anyone will have to remember you by are some CDs gathering dust on the shelf and a Wikipedia entry that was written when all this was fields. Luckily for Blazin’ Squad, the original line-up took in half a classroom or thereabouts, so even with all the comings (none) and goings (tons) there’s still four of them left which means they now look like a proper boyband rather than a bunch of kids that managed to wangle a day out in a recording studio. So who’s left, then? Well, you’ve got Platnum, Sam, Stuart and Melo D. Household names, none of them. However, this is the world of music and names don’t matter – it’s all about the song at the end of the day. Here’s the good news then, not only do they now look like a proper boyband, they also sound like one too. Five circa 1998, as it happens. Most of their fans probably won’t remember Five, which is handy for Blazin’ Squad. It’s jingly-jangly guitar pop in the same vein as Got The Feeling was, in other words safe and friendly. It’s very strange you know, I never thought I’d say this but I’m not going to slate a Blazin’ Squad single for once. Yes, it’s safe, totally inoffensive and you’ll probably forget it about three seconds after you hear it, but think about what could have happened. They could have tried recapturing former… er… glories by simply rehashing what they’d previously done even though it sounds worse now than it did then. What’s left of Blazin’ Squad have changed and good on ’em, all they need now is some decent tunes. This isn’t quite there, but it’s a start.