From our guest critics…
Jukebox

Most Mondays, Clash hosts a singles column where we get a musician to cover a selection of newly released tracks. Look here, a bloody great archive of said pieces. With the schedule slowing for Christmas, we thought it was a good time to pluck just seven choice reviews from this year’s crop of sole-song coverage, and sling them up here for a giggle. So, here y’are…

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Jessie Ware’s ‘Say You Love Me’, as reviewed by …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead

“This kind of thing definitely has a formula that gets old quick. And the lyrics are overdone. There are enough songs that delve into this sonic and lyrical territory. No chances are being taken. This turns young girls into old women. This sounds like something that would be given as a free sample at Starbucks. My mother, who is an upstanding Christian woman in her 50s, would probably be like: ‘What the f*ck is this bullshit? I need some Whitney Houston just to cleanse my palate.’ Then she’d get sad about Whitney Houston. Poor mom. Poor Whitney. Poor anyone that has to listen to this song. I’d rather listen to Kim Kardashian farting into a megaphone.” 

Original column

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G.R.L.’s ‘Ugly Heart’, as reviewed by Pulled Apart By Horses

“Mumford & Sons take lethal dosages of ecstasy and invite numerous generic female pop icons to a plum wine barn dance in the catacombs of Hell. With the help of Satan they resurrect the possessed and slightly charred remains of ’90s Irish pop queens B*Witched and sit back nervously as they watch the room fill with black tar. The tar preserves every body in its struggling state and is re-discovered one million years later and made into clay sculptures that are put on display to the public in a similar way to the bodies that were discovered in Pompeii after the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.”

Original column

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Sia’s ‘Chandelier’ as reviewed by Sébastien Tellier

“The most insipid music I’ve heard this month. Hats off to you! Where did you find this shit? Ten years late at all levels.”

Original column

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Future’s ‘Move That Dope’ as reviewed by Evan from Fist City

“Well these guys clearly won't give a f*ck what I write because they are too busy moving dope to give a shit…  so let’s do this, y’all. The first words in this song are ‘Real dope dealers for real’. This is a redundant sentence that doesn't make sense… not off to a good start. This video seems like a parody to me – but I’m not cool enough to make that call. Dude is talking on a 1990s brick phone for Denny’s sake. Settle down. Future then goes on to rhyme ‘Maserati’ with ‘Maserati’ – oof. There are so many other AWESOME things he could have said. Let’s try:

Original lyric: ‘Servin’ a new Maserati, in a brand new Maserati.’ Better versions of this line, written by me:

‘Servin’ a new Maserati, while I go poop in a potty.’
‘Crankin’ out Pavarotti, in a brand new Maserati.’
‘Servin’ a new Maserati, I don’t like biscotti because it really hurts my teeth, you guys.’

See? We're improving this song already. 

Whatever – in all seriousness, this is music made for suburbanite, bridge-and-tunnel, white bullies to wave their BB guns around in the air while they finger-bang their best friends’ sisters and then have really wimpy fist fights where they hug at the end about it. Whoa, that got dark quick.”

Original column

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Grouplove’s ‘Ways To Go’ as reviewed by Meredith of Perfect Pussy

“What the hell is this? I can’t even. I tried to stick it out and then I saw two beardos pretending to cry while having guns pointed at them by a firing squad. Music has officially been ruined by ignorant white people with access to drugs and instruments. Consider this my formal resignation. These people should be ashamed of themselves!”

Original column

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The 1975’s ‘Robbers’ as reviewed by The Pictish Trail

“Here we go. I like that synthy bit at the beginning. When the beat and guitar comes in, it goes a bit Breakfast Club soundtrack. This song would be really good if you were 15 years old and a bit of a tubby goth, standing alone in a school corridor, and banging your fists against a locker in pretend slow motion. I’m 32, however, and sat on my couch in my pyjamas – with Jeremy Kyle on in the background, on mute. Is this a single? What bit do you sing along to? I can’t understand what he’s singing. There’s a bit where he goes, ‘You look sooooo cold’. Actually, that’s quite perceptive. I am quite cold. I can totes relate to this.”

Original column

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