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'The Angry Teenager #3' on Audioscribbler

Having been on a bit of a sabbatical whilst my esteemed editor added some other (very good) features and interviews, the Angry Teenager is back for a third installment on Audioscribbler, ranting and raving about the NME awards. Have a browse why don't you:


Editorial The Angry Teenager #3

By the great lords of Clearasil! I truly am the angriest teenager alive. Sure, they claim to remove spots within 48 hours, but the current round of Mt. Vesuvii (Vesuvius- plural) currently unleashing almighty pyroclastic flows down my cheeks and forehead suggest otherwise. Whilst making me popular amongst Geography students eager for a cheap field trip, they leave me rather less popular amongst PE students eager for a cheap punching bag. The joke’s on them though; I doubt they can even spell PE, or A&E- which is where I ended up after one too many beatings. High School is a tough mistress - that it is - but with a cheap £2 bottle of cider and a park bench things will be right with the world again of that I’m sure.

Date: 12/03/08

What I’m not sure about is the latest NME Awards; following hot on the heels of the BRITS (Blatantly Rigged Inbred Tossing Off Spectacular) where the nu-raving, drain piped wearing, neon face painted, lad rocking, supermodel screwing, powder snorting (I could go on like this for some time) masses descended upon the decidedly un-rock’n’roll O2 Arena. Sniveling, gawk-eyed NME journalists laughed loudly at anecdotes they didn’t really understand, complemented Jonny Klaxon (one of them must be called Jonny right?) on how fucked he was looking and generally acted like arse lickers for the night, complete with rubber tip at the end just to reach that bit further up the D-listers rectums.

It made for quite a sickening sight for sure- and this was just the pre-awards party. Once started, it became blatantly apparent that the NME had only heard of six bands in the last year, as those well worn names Arctic Monkeys and Babyshambles were joined by seemingly endless nominations for ‘hand me that fifteen year old casio keyboard and a bag of E’s; hey presto! A new genre!’ types Klaxons. Then there's the “geniuses” (more about this later) The Enemy, admittedly quite-good-really The Cribs, and admittedly very-good-really Muse. Still though, when every award is being contested by the same six bands out of a pool of thousands it’s enough to make yours truly rip up his battered porn mags, raise his hands to the sky and text my best mate Daz “OMG!! I iz fk1 wl pisd of!!!!” (I did in fact do that, he didn’t reply…Daz is actually 34; he works for Barclays; he didn’t understand what I was trying to say.)

Sad moments of the night included Muse constantly being referred to “The Muse”, firstly by the evenings presenters- that guy off Gavin & Stacey and some fat bloke (who WAS he!?), and then by Kelly ‘I can’t believe you're showing your face again after THAT Brits debacle with the rest of your family’ Osbourne. Matt and co. couldn’t have looked more embarrassed to be there even if Beth Ditto, in another trademark fit of feminist principles, had decided that, following last year’s nude front cover of her on the front of the NME, she would in fact become a nudist because it, like, was empowerment, and had thus pranced into the O2 Arena wearing nothing but her birthday suit (possibly the only birthday suit that had to be custom fitted- oof! Low blow.)

Standing In The Way of Control? Standing in the way of any bleedin’ natural light more like. Meanwhile, the Arctic Monkeys trundled on up to collect their obligatory Best British Band award whilst hundreds of ex-musicians around the country sighed at the demise of their own bandwagon jumping bands (see Larrikin Love/Milburn/The Paddingtons) and turned the gas ovens on at the McDonalds they were currently working the late shift at.

What really grabbed my pubescent ginger beard however was the backslapping between ‘band of the people', and by 'people' I mean those Oasis fans with slightly skewed vision, and thus are prepared to believe that it's just the Gallagher brothers releasing new material, instead of a rat-faced gimp and his ASBO mates taking the nation for a ride’ band The Enemy’s Tom Clarke and “Godlike Geniuses” the Manic Street Preachers. As already mentioned, Nicky Wire described Tom Clarke inaccurately as a “fucking genius” onstage, with the devious rodent returning the compliment later on in the night. The funniest words have to go to current real band of the people - wannabes Reverend & The Makers and their slack jawed lead man John McClure:

“It's a privilege to be sat on a table with The Enemy tonight,” he said, “because post-9/11, they're one of three bands worth caring about.”

“And that's us, The Enemy and MIA. They (The Enemy) should win Best Band, Best Album and Best Live Band because they don't give a fuck.”

*Insert jokes/disbelief/scorn here*

Until next time readers when we discover where Johnny Borrell’s teeth are Inter-railing to this year and whether that really was The Bravery’s Sam Endicott serving guests at the NME Awards at the bar last week.

Good day!

Words: The Angry Teenager

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