A column in which Duncan Greive scours the world’s charts in the hope of finding, if not the perfect beat, then something worth whistling at least.
THE WORLD
Australia, eh? What a hole. They have maybe the worst taste in music in the known universe. When they make something great (The Saints/Go-Betweens/AC/DC etc) they invariably have to get the next plane out if they want anyone to care about them. All the while stodgy blando rock is venerated beyond all credibility - I remember well the raw desperation in record company promo people's eyes when they tried to convince me that Bernard Fanning, or Little Red, or You Am I was worth listening to.
There are a few exceptions, I guess, but for the most part successful Australian recording artists either suck or are New Zealanders. Look at their current iTunes top 10 for more evidence of how horrible their ears are.
Topping them is an X Factor winner named Reece Martin. He sounds like he desperately wishes he was the son of Max Martin, but comes off more like Chris Martin after a six-pack of Fosters (the People). Just a repellent slice of perky plod that has the temerity to yearn for a return to the days of good time rock'n'roll. Further in you have to suffer through Ed Sheeran's sub-Blunt warbling, and Guy Sebastian's Don't Worry, Be Happy - astonishingly not a Bobby McFerrin cover, but an original inspired by his experience of road rage in LA.
The only genuinely great music is down at eight and 10 - and the lack of respect for We Found Love is all the evidence you need of their complete immunity to hooks.
