I like disposable pop music. It acts as a reminder. Counterbalances the fact that I’m an ageing, misanthropic vinyl snob marooned in some late-eighties hinterland where complex yet fey is the only conversant currency, and if your pedal board isn’t the size of a central European tax haven then I’ll no doubt wear a sneer before comparing you – in print – to Muse.
The flipside to all this being young people having fun. All that infectious leaping about; it outweighs the bad fashion and the over-enthusiastic application of make-up. A memento, perhaps – that brief orchestration of a ticking clock when it was our turn, and what we did with our bold riffs and our facile, clichéd lyrics was parleyed by a cheeky grin and some coy harmonies. And although this retro-Pan Am present somewhat precludes all of the above (I’m not really that old, or misanthropic, or drunk; I once heard a rumour that self-depreciation sells tickets, so that’s what I’m sticking by), the merits of engaging pop music will always stand as some adrenalin-rich injection into all that dissonance.
Below the words, the new single by Northern Ireland’s The Wonder Villains. The press release making itself at home in my sweaty paws proclaims that they make joyous, blistering anti-pop as supported by various Radio 1 DJs and other persons of appropriate influence. Which indicates there’s little need for an ageing, misanthropic vinyl snob to do likewise… except for the fact that this is (anti)pop as something lovely, fun, smile-inducing. One of those records that repels cynicism like a vampire meeting garlic. Accordingly, watch me bounce around the room. Because I can’t help but adore disposable pop music (especially on vinyl, with pedal board).
The Wonder Villains / TV