Thursday, 29 April 2010
This song, nay, Hurts in general, have completely mixed up my feeble little mind. On one hand, Blood, Tears and Gold is an absolutely cracking song - talky bits followed by singy bits, the repetition of 'baby' and even little bit angsty bits perfect for a karaoke booth clenched fist emphasis. Hurts are pretty cool too - they look like Bros suffering the effects of a massive come-down, possibly after being cryogenically frozen for twenty years and their clothes herald a brand new era of hipster attire; a boon for maufacturers of Brycleem and Claire's Accessories earrings.
So what is the problem? I hear you cry. Well, it's all gubbins really, isn't it?
' It's twenty seconds since I left you/And I remember why I never looked back' - Well that's not exactly hard is it? Apart for instances of epilepsy or severe violent blackouts, it's pretty hard to forget what you were doing twenty seconds ago. I was debating whether to italicise some text. I write slowly.
'I never let you down baby baby /I never let you down baby baby /And it won't get any better, blood tears and gold' - What is better than not letting someone down? Not letting them down and giving them a tic tac as you do so?
Now I have no problem with gubbins per se, indeed some of my favourite songs feature gratuitous use of the word 'baby' and/or make very little sense but come on Hurts, the po faces? The arty black and white shots of a woman shaving her leg that I assume is some intense symbolism but just makes me shudder and remember Bic-related injuries of yore? Blah. The song itself is about as profound as Lady Bunny hosting a symposium on the latest trends in glitter eyeshadow, so why not just be bait about it? You can still sing about sad things. Take Alcazar, for example, and their ten year old dancefloor classic 'Crying at the Discotheque' (curse you, embedding disabled by request)
Raw emotion. Eyes are the windows to the soul, so it makes far more sense to stare cross-eyed into the light as this intesifies their emo beam. Highlighting them further with a massive pair of Primark sunglasses is optional.
What is more powerful? An eagle walking like an Egyptian, or a leg? One screams 'tribute to the lost kingdoms of yore, the power of nature and the might of the Bangles' the other 'Gilette'.
You can frown or play a gutiar at an odd angle to convey intesity. But then again, you can do a dance routine while clad in tin foil and flanked by a host of weird animal hybrids. You tell me what is more intense, being trapped in a room with two blokes in a sulk, or being trapped in a room with a load of terrible genetic experiments gone wrong and a man wearing silver kneepads who keeps trying to bump his cock against you. Exactly.