When I say The UK Charts, I mean the mainstream top 40.
You know, the list of – more often than not – inaudible garbage that’s churned out by popular radio stations during Sunday drive time.
Having said that, the emergence of artists like Rag ‘n’ Bone Man has restored some of my faith in the UK charts, but the terrible or just plain disposable tunes still far outweigh the good ones. Of course, disposable pop songs line the pockets of some fat-walleted big wigs – but you don’t see any profit from listening to them, so why tolerate it?
Early last year I spoke about the musical void and how we need to fill it. This year I’m saying let’s sort the UK charts out. I don’t know how this is achievable, but wouldn’t it be nice to enjoy something reminiscent of the Brit Pop era again? Or a time when The Who would sneak into the list? Or when rave spiced up the top 40.
I guess we just have to start supporting the right artists and buying the right music – art that too often falls under the radar. Do some digging, carry out some local research and get your arse down to a gig or show your face in a local record store.
Better yet, start writing lyrics with a melody and cobble together three mates who vaguely know how to play rock instruments, punk rock style. There’s plenty to write about in this day and age:
Trump, his roadkill barnet, and his vile regime; May, her scrotal face, and her filthy agenda; the UK economy; the NHS; global warming; how eating too much tuna can give you mercury poisoning; the housing crisis; Paul Nuttall; top knots; why Dairy Milk isn’t as good as it used to be, the list goes on.
Look, like the cockroaches, the UK charts aren’t going anywhere, so it’s our duty as music loving citizens to saturate them with goodness, one record purchase, gig ticket, or song lyric at a time. Or, maybe I should just go back to ignoring the pop charts altogether and get on with it.
Either way, let’s make British mainstream music great again. There’s so much incredible talent out there, all we have to do it look – usually in the dirtiest dive bars and most decrepit record stores around.
We can’t reinvent the wheel but let’s treat our ears to something decent on a Sunday – God knows we all put up with enough.
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