I’m always incredibly suspicious about anything that the majority are fond of, particularly in the music and entertainment industry as to find so many followers in such a diverse demographic as is present on planet Earth, one must consider that the root of said phenomenon’s success is some sort of pandering to either a lowest common denominator or an “inoffensive” mediocrity that is ultimately of no useful consequence.
If this suspicion is confirmed, I can begin to move on to the tangible defects of the subject matter that provoke my deepest senses of credulity. Michael Buble is a strong example; everyone likes Michael- he’s always happy- totally harmless and a swell talent to boot! He’s the kind of guy your grandma wants you to bring home, ladies. Isn’t he just darling? As though to spaff on my face with self satisfaction, and on top of this grotesque cleanliness, the man seems to offer nothing groundbreaking musically, but rather a reminder of revolution gone by, a sort of OAP and housewife friendly version of truly inspirational music. This is before we have even dealt with his grimace worthy god awful musical holocausts that constitute his original material which he promotes with sickening videos of himself looking disgracefully shiny and well rested. The fucker.
To reference, for a moment, the great Jello Biafra; there’s something I don’t like about a man that always smiles. It’s a sign of either severe smugness, fakery, mindlessness or all fucking three. Proudly flying the flag for middle of the road comfortablity is this derivative douche bag. A poor man’s Harry Connick Jr, it seems that Buble is forever reminding us of just how content he is. Whether it’s clicking and winking down a corridor whilst staring down an ITV2 camera lens or releasing a diabolical- nay pure evil collection of Holiday cheer, I find myself unable to forgive this particular smooth talker for the nauseating displays he subjects me to.
At this point I am sure the reader is daring to question me, asking “why are you so familiar with this singer? Why do you watch or listen to Michael Buble if you hate him so much? Why don’t you just turn the television off whenever he’s on and avoid buying his music?” Alas, my dear friends, this lovable pioneer of the winning smile has a reach far deeper than you seem to comprehend.
Picture the scene; it’s Christmas day- the turkey’s in the oven, I have a lager to hand, and I’m happily strolling through my immaculate kitchen singing my favourite Pink Panzer track to myself when all of a sudden my mother feels it appropriate to propose the tortuous ordeal of listening to a collection of Christmas songs to the house. I smile. I love my mother. It’s Christmas and you know what? Even though I hate this holiday, the religion it upholds, and the compulsory merriment its soundtrack enforces, I forgive her her transgressions and let her- let her- put her favourite Christmas album on as my siblings beam with enthusiasm. Ten seconds later and I notice there’s something different about this version of “White Christmas” and before I can identify the source of the pain that is coursing through my body, I become aware of the fact that I want to annihilate everything and everyone that is near me. I pick up the sharpest object I can find and proceed to butcher my entire family- unable to stop myself and without remorse. It’s their fault. They wanted this tripe on. Shortly afterwards I shall realise that it was I, in my benevolence, who allowed this action and turn the knife on myself.
Mr. Buble, if you’re out there, please take a moment to consider the consequences of your banal pandering to mediocrity and complacency and upon doing so stop subjecting us to what is frankly the musical equivalent of Top fucking Gun. If I wanted cheese, I’d go to the fridge, not a fucking record shop. Furthermore, if you continue to subject me to the injustice that is your existence I fear that I will be forced to take action. I’m sure you don’t want me to cut my own ears off with a blunt hacksaw, you seem far too nice for that...
Brilliantly hilarious write-up...
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