The moment I realised the NME is full of shit

Of course, I should have realised the NME was full of shit a long time before, in 2001, they declared Andrew WK to be “the saviour of music!” (that’s their exclamation mark, the bloody idiots). But we all have our blind spots, and I had persisted with reading the NME for a few years (mostly for free in WH Smiths, naturally), expecting to see something meaningful and informative.

And then they went and published this. It must have been an issue I bought, and come with a free CD, because I can’t think how I would otherwise have had the misfortune to hear Party Hard. As soon as I heard it I realised it was utterly awful (even for 2001): pretendy-loud guitars, produced to within an inch of its life, and lyrics which could have been entered into a spoof ‘angry teenager song-writing’ contest.

Best/worst of all, the NME’s “saviour of music!” nonsense was pretty much deadly serious, and sincerely put him forward as an anti-establishment musical force of innovation (although obviously they were self-satisfied with their tongue-in-cheek Beatles-aping “bigger than Jesus!” (another bloody exclamation mark) tagline on the cover).

I’ve said enough. I’ve listened too much. I need to wash my ears out.

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