"I'm sick of rumours spreading/ I'm tired of being followed/ I'm tired of people lying /Saying what they want about me."
inaugural post. I started by thinking I should feature the benchmark for all pop hits; the perfectly formed, irresistibly infectious, pedestal-placed song which the Jennifer Ellison's of the world could only gaze upon in despair.
And then I realized that actually, that would be impossible, since those mythical few have been idolised enough. I never want to read another celebration of 'Can't get you out of my head' by a broadsheet journalist, or an essay about Brian Higgins and Xenomania: yes, they are genius, but we know that already.
So, today it's all about La Lohan. I'm secretly transfixed by this little starlet, as if she spied the gap in the teen market for a good-girl-gone-bad, and knows we're all logging surrepticiously on to pagesix and thatsjustnotright in the hope of another Bungalow 8 Ketel-fuelled fight with Tara Reid about who's the better friend to Paris. The possible/probable augmentation! The public distress post-breakup with minor TV serial-starlet dater Fez! The restraining orders against her father and back-yard brawls!
From the moment I heard she'd developed a bitter feud with Hilary Duff over being two-timed by Aaron Carter, I was hooked. Could Hollywood have produced a more perfect being? And now she follows Ms Duff into the pop arena, with one of the most lacklustre and sorely wanting debuts that's made it to repeat rotation. And yet, that's strangely fitting. See, while Hilary is content to posit life-affirming statements of self belief (Fly! Listen to that little voice in your head! Girls can rock!) in an non-offensive way, Lindsay set her sights on r 'n b styled uber-babe, complete with CCTV snapshot/helipad dance breakdown/gilded cage writhing video. Which is all fabulous.
But this song is abysmal.
There's no hook, no grab. The monotony of Britney's 'Outrageous' but without the production budget. Did the writers not realise that when neither the bridge nor the chorus rhyme, they're breaking vital pop tenants, and not even in a deconstructive way? Metanarrate all you like on needing privacy (as you shake your barely-legal ass for all it's worth) but don't think it will elevate you beyond that sappy blonde piece of afternoon TV fluff; she knows her 'dream/scream/clean' business alright.
Nonetheless, the failures of this track are hugely endearing, and completely fitting for La Lohan. Had she released something sparkling and deft, I would have felt betrayed- the whole point of her existence is as an object of fascination and schadenfreude. 'Rumours' truly crowns her as a mediocre pop starlet, and hence the most interesting kind. I mean, since when did Kylie do anything as interesting as stumble drunk out of a club with MK and Ashley and a nipple slip?
Watch the gyrating here