STARS REACT TO MILEY CYRUS' RAUNCHY VMA PERFORMANCE

 

Following Miley Cyrus’ booty-shaking, twerk-ful routine at the Video Music Awards, we asked our favourite celebs what they thought of the most talked-about event since that time that person did that thing with the thing in front of the thing on Big Brother or whatever...


It was utterly sickening to witness that attractive and talented young woman degrade herself and commodify her own precious body in such a demeaning manner. She was strutting about in her underwear, blankly grinning like some doped-up Amsterdam hooker, a dismal icon of the continuing tyranny of the patriarchy and the escalating pornographication of Western society. Don’t steal my act, bitch!
Rihanna

Why does she keep sticking her tongue out? It looks all massive and weird.
Gene Simmons

Jesus Christ! What the fuck is that fucking thing coming out of her mouth? It’s creeping me out, man.
One Of The Aliens Off Of The Aliens Films

The moronic crudity of popular culture never fails to astonish my more sophisticated sensibilities. Cyrus’ performance was so soullessly coarse and devoid of sensuality that it almost distracted me from writing my latest paragraph about an ageing author having anal sex with a teenage girl.
A Great American Novelist

Well naturally I didn’t approve of Miss Cyrus’ garishly sexual dance moves and corruptively skimpy costume. But what offended me the most was the appearance of that shit-throated smug c*** Robin Thicke. And I don’t use that kind of language lightly.
The late Mary Whitehouse

Erm... I dunno really... I don’t really know who she is... I didn’t see the VMAs cos I went and sold my TV the other day... I got, like, six hundred quid for it or something, all cos Kate Moss watched an episode of Shameless on it back in 2006... Do you wanna see my shop? ... I say shop, it’s more a rag-and-bone cart, really... Well, I say rag-and-bone cart, it’s actually a stolen shopping trolley with some soggy NMEs sellotaped to the side... It’s got a chipped ceramic bust of Lord Byron in it and an ashtray full of hair... Would you like to buy an ashtray full of hair? Please, please buy my ashtray full of hair...
Pete Doherty

Remember when I took my top off in the middle of Razorlight’s performance at Bob Geldof’s Live 8? Remember? Anyone? Hello?
Johnny Borrell

You think I give a s*** about that ****ing c***? My Family took her under our wing. We clothed her, we fed her, we made her the biggest star in Hollywood. And how does this c*** repay us? She ****ing leaves the Family behind her and embarks on this two-bit strip act wearing a ****ing leotard with a ****ing distorted rodent on it! She got a beef with the Family? She should do what’s right and settle it with the Family, not go around trashing my personal image in public. It’s a ****ing insult. I’m not saying she’s in danger, but schmucks have been whacked for less.
Mickey Mouse

Imagine walking on your hands through the blue sky above a field and then a great mountain. Imagine your toes brush the skies and the birds whisper ancient melodies directly into the ears of your heart. No need to imagine, it’s already happening. I think that answers your question.
Yoko Ono

Of course, had she been alive in the seventeenth century, that kind of act would’ve got her burned as a witch. Now here’s a catchy little number about the demographic consequences of agrarian economic innovations of the Early Modern Period...
Darren Hayman

Zounds and gadzooks! Did one catch a glimpse of the promiscuous wagtail’s disrobed ankles?
An Outraged Victorian

I definitely have an opinion on this.
Every Journalist and Blogger

WHY IS EVERYBODY STARING AT A GIRL DANCING IN HER PANTS WHEN WE SHOULD ALL BE DISCUSSING EGYPT??!!!! COME ON, PEOPLE!!!!
Benedictine Cucumberbumberlasterplast

What a surprise to see an attention-seeking child turn into an attention-seeking adult.
Lindsay Lohan

TRACKLIST FOR NIRVANA'S 20TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF IN UTERO REVEALED

 

CD1
In Utero Remastered (some - but not all - tracks mixed by that maniac Albini)

CD2
1) Rape Me (demo)
2) That b-side Dave Grohl sang before he was in Foo Fighters
3) That one about the vagina
4) That one about the vagina (4-track demo)
5) That one about the vagina (Butch Vig remix)
6) Rape Me (Dubstep mix)
7) Jesus Christ I Hate Myself I Really Want To Die Life Is Fucking Unbearable Especially Since I Married That God-Awful Woman But Don’t Worry Ha Ha This Is Just A Tongue-In-Cheek Self-Deprecating Song-Title See I Do Have A Sense Of Humour After All Oh No Hang On A Minute Actually I Really Do Hate Myself And Want To Die So It Isn’t Especially Ironic, Oh Well, Whatever, Never Mind
8) Something by Leadbelly
9) Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through The Strip (long version)
10) Private Recording Of Cobain Curled Up Naked In The Shower Screaming In Pain From The Specific Bodily Discomfort of Heroin Withdrawal Coupled With The More General Mental Anguish Of Existential Dread (demo)
11) Don’t Recognise This One It’s Probably A Meat Puppets Cover Or Something
12) Tourette’s (acoustic)
13) Verse - Chorus - Verse- Chorus - Solo - Incoherently Screaming Lyrics That Were Nonsensical In The First Place - Chorus - Feedback - End
14) This Is Just Noise, This Was Never Meant To See The Light Of Day
15) Monosyllabic Cobain interview conducted by an overenthusiastic US radio disc-jockey
16) The cringe-inducing sound of the empty sides of a rotting barrel being scraped and scraped and scraped into sheer oblivion (take #237)

CD3
Under-rehearsed live gig further hindered by a sound-desk guy who wasn’t concentrating properly, recorded by some drunkard with a broken boom-box

THE SPECTACULAR ADVENTURES OF STARS OF THE LID: Episode 5 'Potential Collaborations'

MORE STARS REVIEW KANYE'S YEEZUS

 

 

 

Following the success of Lou Reed’s much-publicised review of Kanye West’s much-publicised Yeezus LP (http://thetalkhouse.com/reviews/view/lou-reed), we asked a few more VIPs for their opinions of the most anticipated rap record since that one Eminem made after he didn’t retire. Here are their perceptive responses...


OMG!!!! Kanye is da freakin’ bomb right now. His rhymes, man, I mean, the way he just lays down those rhymes like one cool muthafucker, it’s unreal dude. You feelin’ me? That brutha is so hot right now. Mega props to my homeboy.
Brian Sewell

Nah. Just not rock ‘n’ roll is it? He thinks he’s havin’ it and all that but he’s not really havin’ it. I’m the one fuckin’ havin’ it. Every day, mate, there’s me fuckin’ havin’ it. Rock ‘n’ roll star, do you know what I mean? Down Knebworth, I’m fuckin’ havin’ it. At the Chelsea Flower Show, I’m fuckin’ havin’ it. For the duration of the extensive Beady Eye three-date tour, I’m fuckin’ havin’ it. Riding a defenceless dog in the pub like an unruly child, there I am, that’s me, FUCKIN’ HAVIN’ IT. Do you know what I mean, shitbag?
Liam Gallagher

Well, although I can categorically confirm that I am down with the hip-hop culture - not to mention grime, garage and crunk - I must say I do prefer the Smiths and the Jam. Especially the ones where they declare that people like me should be strung up on lampposts and decapitated for the good of society. Right, I’m off to play Angry Birds. Laterz.
David Cameron

Yeezus?! That’s a bit offensive isn’t it?
Professor Richard Dawkins

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Ralf Hütter (Kraftwerk)

He’s released it on CD?! Sorry, but that’s a little ‘90s for me. He should’ve released a fancy hardback book of sheet music so that fans could play the keyboard parts themselves and bring their own unique, individual voices to lines such as “Shit I’m chillin’ / Tryin’ to stack these millions”.
Beck

Why isn’t anybody talking about us anymore? :(
David Bowie, Daft Punk and Boards of Canada

Is he still black? I don’t like him then.
George W. Bush

It’s not got frigging autotune all over the place has it? I’ve had it up to here with autotune. It’s become such a scourge on modern culture I can hardly be-lieeeeeve I invented in the first place.
Cher

I’d have preferred less stuff about Porsches, liquor, titties, ass, and West proclaiming himself to be God, and a little more on how we should all bow down to the irrepressible power of Mother Nature and embrace a loose, solitary form of religion in which we develop our own personal relationship with the almighty wind spirits. Also, there wasn’t enough black metal on it.
Phil Elverum

I like it.
Four Tet

I like it.
Burial

His beats are dope, that’s fo’shizzle. But that line about “eating Asian pussy”, I could’ve done without that.
The late Mary Whitehouse

To be honest, I don’t really understand the rap music. It just sounds like somebody talking moronically over a series of repetitive beats. I prefer the golden oldies: The Rat Pack, Elvis, Andy Williams and the like. Frank Sinatra, now there’s a man who had talent. The rap music just doesn’t have Frank’s touch of class, does it? It’s just a load of undignified scallywags jumping around with massive timepieces dangling round their necks. Pillocks.
Chuck D

It wasn’t graphically misogynist enough for me.
Bret Easton Ellis

Nor me.
Nick Cave

I’m concerned for the guy. He’s become so wealthy and famous that he’s completely lost grasp of reality. He’s got no sense of humour or modesty. He’s married some vacuous celebrity with no discernible talent of her own who’s only famous because of her Dad. He doesn’t seem to display any recognition of what ordinary people’s lives are like. His ego is spinning further and further out of control. It’s sad to watch, man, just sad.
The late Michael Jackson

EXCLUSIVE TRACK-BY-TRACK REVIEW OF BOARDS OF CANADA'S TOMORROW'S HARVEST

 

Gemini
Fairly nondescript mellow intro track with soft, jittering 808 beats, mildly distorted harmonium tones and ripe grapefruit squelches.

Reach For The Dead
Populist wet disco single featuring Nile Rogers, that bloke out of N.E.R.D. and Commander Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation. First heard via an electric billboard(of Canada) installed on the streets of Tokyo after a mysterious message appeared on the Cartoon Network’s twitter feed at 6:37am on Record Store Day. Fluffier than ‘Chromakey Dreamcoat’. Taller than Bonaparte.

White Cyclosa
This one is exactly like waking up in a bath of frozen peas to find both your kidneys have been replaced by the left knees of the Proclaimers twins, a blacked-up Taylor Swift is silently miming the words of Throbbing Gristle’s ‘Persuasion’ into one end of a grimy loofah, while Carl Barat trims his fringe in the mirror with a pair of broken safety scissors. Achingly grotesque.

Jacquard Causeway
Filler track only audible to hounds.

Telepath
Similar to John Cage’s 4’33”. Only not silent. And with greater emphasis on the slide whistle.

Cold Earth
Imagine a barbershop quartet dressed up in full Kiss regalia. Now imagine there’s fourteen more of them and they’re all squeezed chock-a-block in that cupboard under the stairs at George Michael’s place. One of them has brought an egg sandwich and the solidified albumin is crumbling out of the cling film at an alarming rate. A baby house spider tries to make its terrified screams audible but is drowned out by the eighteentet’s cramped moans. Imagine Tim Hecker capturing the commotion on his four-track then throwing the results into a clammy landfill.

Transmisiones Ferox
If having your ears pinched by a blasé farmhand in a bright orange Stetson with half a beard and a penchant for crochet is your idea of fun, look no further.

Sick Times
Will.I.Am guests, unleashing the kind of devastating, take-no-prisoners lyrical flow that can only be attained from twenty-odd years in the professional rap game. Over a primordial rave thump, Will spits such gallantly ingenious lines as “Rub-a-dub-dub / We hit da club”, “I said ‘Yeah?’ / And she said ‘Yeah, yeah!’”, and “You can’t rhyme / Like I can rhyme / ‘Cos when I rhyme / I rhyme all the time”. Danny O’Donoghhue from The Script was also invited to contribute but was too busy sitting in a large red chair jiggling around like a yappy terrier that can’t work out if it needs to ejaculate or shit itself.

Collapse
Saucier than Donna Summer having an illicit rummage through Prince’s knicker drawer. Could redden the cheeks of even the most jaded octogenarian porn baron.

North American Corpse Desecration
Pleasingly boisterous cover of Agoraphobic Nosebleed’s frantic grind opus.

Split Your Infinities
Clearly indebted to Springsteen and the E Street Band. But less bothered about cars, chicks and headbands. Could do without the rowdy piccolo solo.

Uritual
Groundbreaking bonus track only accessible after emailing one’s Google password to the Warp Records mailing list. Once unlocked, the listener must connect their ipod to a 3D printer which will then generate a flat-pack music box for self-assembly. Depending on how fast the music box’s handle is turned the resulting noise sounds either like Björk excavating Jim Morrison’s grave with a wooden teaspoon or Dave Lombardo beating himself over the nose with a Sega Megadrive.

Nothing Is Real
Twoism plus ‘Olson’, multiplied by Snoop Lion, minus Laura Marling’s favourite plectrum, divided by Marc Almond, added to 20% of Nick Cave’s moustache equals ‘Nothing Is Real’.

Sundown
Obligatory dubstep number with mid-point minimalist bugle breakdown. The liner notes credit Cypress Hill’s DJ Muggs with ‘additional production’ and the tap dancer from Tilly and the Wall with ‘encouragingly jaunty 4-4 handclaps’.

New Seeds
Nine long minutes of synthetic birdsong.

Come To Dust
Moon Safari played backwards under a disused railway bridge in the Outer Hebrides while a confectionary-addicted vicar mournfully licks the sugar off his final Fruit Pastille.

Semena Mertvykh
The closing piece is a futuristic collaborative symphony featuring a host of Warp Records alumni. Squarepusher provides characteristically fussy, beef-thumbed slap bass. Richard D. James spanks Aphex Twin’s buttocks with a rusty tambourine while headbutting Polygon Window’s grand piano. Chris Morris delivers a tasteless, vaguely satirical narrative about an abducted toddler. In the background, Autechre experiment with a range of specially modified electric toothbrushes. The chap with the hat out of Maximo Park made the coffee. A post-techno counterpart to the Traveling Wilburys’ ‘Handle with Care’.

Conclusion

Take one copy of Geogaddi, one copy of The Campfire Headphase, smash them into a blender, add two diced apples, a pinch of lemon rind, and mix on a high speed for 4-5 mins. Pour the liquid into a bowl and add flour, eggs, butter, and three ex-members of the Bluetones. Bake on a medium heat for eight years or until golden. Leave to stand for twenty minutes before icing with Paul Newman’s Tex Mex Salad Dressing. Chew upon Tomorrow’s Harvest with a childlike wonder.

NEW BIFFY CLYRO NO-SHIRT SHIRT!

 

Hey kids! Are you a fan of platinum-selling, alluringly hairy rock group Biffy Clyro? Have you always wanted want to look just like your heroes? Do you want to be among the first to own an item of pioneering merchandise the likes of which has never seen before?

Then you need the new Biffy Clyro No-shirt Shirt!

The new Biffy Clyro No-shirt Shirt is spun from the highest quality magic cloth which, although definitely, definitely there, is invisible to the eyes of anybody stupid enough to not appreciate or understand the joys of Biffy Clyro. Needless to say, the result of wearing the Biffy Clyro No-shirt Shirt is exactly what you’ve always desired: to the squares who don’t value Biffy Clyro you will look just like your idols Biffy Clyro (i.e. defiantly topless and rebelliously sweaty), whereas the perceptive and intelligent members of ‘Team Biffy’ will profess recognition of your exclusive threads and welcome you into their fold.

The Biffy Clyro No-shirt Shirt retails at £39.99 plus post and packaging.

The Biffy Clyro official webshop takes no responsibility for any Biffy Clyro No-shirt Shirts that are lost in transit or mysteriously disappear from within their still-sealed boxes.

BOY DECIDES NOT TO PUT RECORD STORE DAY PURCHASES ON EBAY

 

In an unprecedented and somewhat worrying move, one music fan has decided not to put his Record Store Day purchases on eBay.

Record Store Day was founded in 2007 with the intention of boosting the profits of thriving, unscrupulous eBay sellers. Everything was going as intended last Saturday morning when record shops across the world were greeted by lengthy queues of pungent middle-aged men eagerly hoping to lay their hands on some rare, exclusively released vinyl which they would cradle lovingly in their sweaty arms before immediately auctioning online. For the most heroic of these passionate capitalists, nothing would stand between them and their profit. Queues were jumped, bribes offered, weaker, younger and politer customers were shoved, tussled and elbowed out of the way in scenes that would have made that late champion of entrepreneurism and hater of society Margaret Thatcher weep copious tears of sheer pride. Forget the audacious state-funded funeral, this display of unashamed greed and ruthlessness in the pursuit of hard cash was the real tribute to the Iron Lady.

However, one customer decided to make a mockery of this marvellous day of economic exploitation by thoughtlessly deciding to keep the records he purchased. Stephen Pond was near the front of the queue at Pickled Willy Records, Manchester, having arrived at approximately 4.30am a week last Tuesday. In a move that seems completely inexplicable to any level-headed, right-thinking person, Pond only selected releases by his favourite artists: Thurston Moore, Darren Hayman, and Moistboyz. When Pond neglected to rudely demand copies of the rarer and more lucrative products on offer, the cashier stared at the boy in total bewilderment and considered having him sectioned.

Asked what on earth he intended to do with these records, Pond said that he would listen to them regularly, file them alongside the other LPs in his collection, and lend them to his friends.

The organisers of Record Store Day have condemned Pond, saying that actions such as his have the potential to completely ruin the spirit of the event for everybody else. We have been assured that they are working round the clock to prevent a repeat of this unfortunate incident.