British Music Sucks

Okay, okay. So the title of this blog post is a little harsh. In fact, most of my favorite bands are British. But the thing that has been perplexing me most about British culture recently is the remarkably tacky, tasteless, gag-inducing pop music that they are able to churn out and gobble up. It's eerie. Some examples:

1. Westlife



Just look at them with their stupid hair and stupid faces. I think they have been at the top of the charts since I've been here, selling gazillions of albums. Their lyrics include such lines as "You raise me uuuuup, so I can stand on mooooountains" and "You're my special thing / I'm flying without wings". All their power ballads sound frighteningly alike, and when they perform them live on television (which happens just about every night) they always start out sitting on stools (I'm guessing that's because it makes them seem like sensitive, lovelorn manchildren) and then stand up, dramatically clenching/pumping their fists for the key change.

2. Take That/Robbie Williams



Apparently, they have decided to get back together. The world has been missing out on their genius for too many years. The calendar-selling website where I found the photo gushed:

With rumors of a reunion on the cards the UK's preimer boy band are back in all their 90's glory. Isn't it time to let Robbie Gary, Howard, Jason and Mark relight your fire!

Um...first of all, please proofread your stupid praise before vomiting it onto the internet. And NO, it is not time for me to let them relight my fire. I do NOT want them back (want them back) want them back (want them back) want them back (want them back) for good. Also...what is the deal with Robbie Williams? Yes, I suppose he is relatively attractive. Sometimes. But his image is so confusing (Elvis? Random tattoos? Leisure suit?), and his music is not so hot.

3. Sugababes/Girls Aloud



To tell the truth, I can't ever remember the difference between these two "bands". Although they think they are kooky in that sexy-cuz-we're-dressed-weird kind of way, they're not. And their music is boring and trashy.



One good and pretty exciting thing about British music at the moment, however, is a band called Nizlopi.



Nizlopi is just two guys -- namely, my friend Finn's cousin Luke, and his childhood friend John. One plays guitar and sings, the other plays stand-up bass and beatboxes. Awesome. Their single, called JCB Song (about Luke's childhood hero--his dad--who used to drive him around on a JCB tractor), is currently the #1 Hit in the UK charts! Hooray Nizlopi! You are far better and infinitely more heartfelt than the other chart-topping assholes! If you want to see their really cool music video, go HERE!. There's also a cool little cyber-toy that lets you doodle with a cyber pencil. Nifty!

A Day in the Life of Molly's Office Job, Part III

THE STRANGER IN THE DARKNESS



Since I am surrounded by a high concentration of idiots in my office during the work week (as you have probably already gathered somewhat by this point in my office blog-a-thon), my colleagues and I are usually feeling a fair amount of relief and weekend anticipation come Friday. Really, who doesn't look forward to the weekend? Well, I'll tell you. UNEMPLOYED PEOPLE--that's who. To them, the weekend is akin to the weekday. Life is all just a long, uninterrupted string of free time for the jobless. And my office is filled with them. Filled right to the goddamned brim.

Here I will take the liberty of going on a small tangent, to clear up the questions Sarah raised in her comments on my last post. My company is what they call a "Career Transitions Company". Essentially, it is a global company that offers services such as personal consulting, group seminars, and office facilities to people who have been "made redundant" (i.e. people who've gotten the sack) in order to help them find a new position. We do business with corporations that are planning to announce redundancies; we get paid by the corporation and they offer our services as part of the severance package.

So, aside from the few gems of clients who are actually friendly, respectful, and appreciative, the people that come through the office generally seem to be bitter, incompetent jerks. This observation of mine was irrefutably confirmed a few weeks ago, when my Client Services colleagues and I were enjoying a well-deserved glass of bubbly and some delicious Pringles in an empty conference room one Friday afternoon. There were a few remaining clients mingling about, typing emails or photocopying or whatnot. Aimee noticed that the time was 4:35 and went out to give the customary announcement that we would be closing in 10 minutes. 5 minutes later she went back out to make sure people were getting their things together. At closing time our receptionist, Janet, left to catch her train, and Aimee went out to make sure all the clients had vacated the premises. The next thing I knew, she was storming out through the reception area.

"I'm going home!" she shouted irritably. "This is ridiculous."

I was a bit confused, but went on packing up my handbag. I then went out to make sure all the newspapers were put away and the lights turned off. Sure enough, everything was in order. The only illumination in the room was the soft glow from the computer monitors.

But then, from a far corner, I heard a little rustling sound. Intrigued, I shuffled up the aisle to see what it was.

It was a client, just sitting there in the dark with all her stuff spread out on the desk around her as if nothing had happened. When she looked up and saw me she gave a start. I didn't even know what to say. Why would this woman just sit through THREE announcements that we were closing, moronically typing away even as the lights were turned out? I gave her the look of death and she seemed to suddenly realize that everyone else had gone home, scrambled into her coat, and shoved her papers in her bag. It then took her several more minutes to come through reception, find her name in the visitor's book, sign out, fumble with the door handle, unnecessarily locking and unlocking the deadbolt in her feeble attempts to exit, and finally emerge into the corridor.