In honour of tonights long awaited X-Factor final (at least I don’t have to put up with the bastard thing for another nine months), here’s why I blame Simon Cowell for ruining Christmas:
The Christmas Number One race used to be exciting. Yes, there were the usual suspects each year – Westlife, Spice Girls, but there was always legitimate competition. And occasionally there was even a proper Christmas song (The Darkness for one, but it was beaten by ‘Mad World’, a non-Christmas Christmas number one). Now it’s like a never ending stream of X-Factor ‘winners’ – is it a coincidence that the X-Factor ends just in time for a shot at the Christmas chart? It’s coming to something when there has to be a concerted effort to get an ‘alternative’ song to number one. Last year Rage Against The Machine did it with a song over a decade old – because no current artist is brave enough to go head to head with the Simon Cowell PR-machine. However, this year there is a challenge. A modern attempt to recreate John Cage’s 4’33 – four minutes and thirty three seconds of people not playing their instruments. Yet it will still be of more interest to me than whatever dirge the X-Factor winner is warbling.
And because people are brainwashed into buying and liking this crap, no one bothers to write a proper Christmas song anymore, well except Coldplay, but let’s face it, they’re boring and so don’t count!
There’ll never be another White Christmas, Merry Christmas Everybody, Last Christmas, or even I Wish It Could Be A Wombling Merry Christmas (and cover versions don’t count) because it’s all driven by PR and hysteria created and nurtured by the flat-headed, high-troused one and his wank-fest procession of supermarket shelf-fillers, circus freaks and soulless dullards only too willing to expose themself to ridicule and an overblown sense of ‘celebrity’ for a shot at manufactured short term popularity.
As John Lennon sang: “And so this is Christmas, and what have we done?”
Well, John, we’ve managed to create a monster, and if we’re totally honest, it’s our own doing. And the really depressing thing is, he probably doesn’t give a monkey’s if the X-Factor winner misses out on the Christmas number one – all those people that pick up the phone and dial to vote for their favourite imbecile have more than paid for the upkeep of his flat head and his villas and his perma-tan.
But, I’ll never let anyone say I’m a miserable stick-in-the-mud, so, to quote Mr Noddy Holder: