So the 2013 Brit awards are upon us again and Gigslutz are on hand to review the event for your reading pleasure. We decided to turn down the guest list and corporate bollocks this year and instead bring our findings to you sitting in our underpants watching it in HD on the box. So, let’s have a run down on Britain’s Premier music award ceremony….
Muse kick things off. To be fair here at Gigslutz we aren’t Muses greatest fans but you can’t argue that it’s a bombastic performance and we doff our caps at a good start and hopefully a taste of things to come.
Then to our host for the evening, James Cordon. I suppose the biggest initial surprise is that Cordon is hosting again. After his abortion of a performance last year it’s amazing that he has been let back. And by last year I meant every single bloody show that he managed to do in 2012, in that smug chummy manner that reminds you of a fella in a pub you fake smile at whilst hoping someone harder than you gives him a slap.
From the off we have Cordon telling us that “however you like your music we have something for you” Therefore I’m hoping for some Jake Bugg recognition or The Stone Roses for best live band maybe. He only mentions Robbie Williams and One Direction though so that’s the grannies and kiddies kept happy. We could be in for a cutting edge night here….
First up is Best British Female solo artist and this goes to Emeli Sandé. She thanks her husband so clearly no Lennon-esq ban on mentioning significant others for her. Next up is a rather depressing interview at One Directions table. I know, I know, why bother wasting time on getting annoyed but its drivel at its finest. I decide at this point to get the ironing board out to spice things up…
Up next it was the Robster, old Williams himself looking decidedly thinner than in recent TV appearances. Obviously he has had to stop all the Haribos since they realised his song is exactly the same tune as their advert. Still, objectively you can’t knock Williams, he’s a good show man, but on the other hand you can’t help but think of cruise ships. Ones with Italian captains immediately spring to mind.
To present Best British band chief geek Simon Pegg and some tidy lady who cant seem to read English very well take the stage. After a bit of Manuel type stumbling we have Mumford and Sons accepting an award. It’s all very polite and I’m pretty sure one of them thanked his gran or something. Anyway, shite tashes, shite clobber shite patter. SHITE.
Nick Griffin presents the next award. Sorry, not the BMP member unfortunately, who would have spiced this bore fest up a bit, I mean, the breakfast fella from Radio 1 who gives Ben Howard the best breakthrough award. This clown shoe does actually thank his mum! For fucks sake!
I miss the 90s……
After that load of old pony, we have a swift interview with the legend that is Dave Grohl promoting his new film and confirming a new Foo Fighters album which will no doubt feature 3 ace head bangers and 9 piles of shaven beard hair. This is then followed by a Plan B’s album of the year nomination video which prompts another Cordon classic “if that was Plan B, what was his plan A”. This lad is earning his corn tonight.
Advert time, time for a brew….
Ah, now here’s a fella you can set your watch to. Justin Timberlake. Another former boy band member who last had a good record out 10 years ago. (you know, the one with Pharell on it and the cry me a river song. Dont lie to me, you loved that shit). Fresh from a few Hollywood films some good (Social Network) some arse (the rest) my ears are numbed to the blandness of the musical offering. Still his suit is very shiny and he almost has that Scott Parker haircut down to a tea. Next
We have another Cordon corker about ginger people and factor 50 sun cream which leads into scruffy ginge Ed Sheeran awarding Ben Howard another award. This time Best Solo Artist. Who is this Ben Howard person? He just used the word “stoked”. I guarantee he has a sister who owned a pony and wouldn’t dream of smoking (I have nothing to back this up with).
The Critics’ choice award is next. This has the potential to be interesting but with a bypass of any nominees it’s very anti climatic as Cordon sits next to some fella called Tom Odell and announces he has won. Fuck me; I’m well out of touch. Who? He seemed like a nice lad but I wouldn’t let him baby sit, if you know what I mean.
The ever likable Dermot O’Leary is now up for presenting an award accompanied by professional embarrassment Sharron Osborne. Osborne doesn’t let anyone down either, making a rather shit joke referring to Harry Styles penis being a magic wand. Still, that’s as racy as it’s going to get and the word penis is always guaranteed a snigger in my house
They present Lana Del Rey with the international female award, who thanks her record label Polydor for its help in “turning my life into art”. There’s probably a joke somewhere here, maybe something to do with Tracy Emin or Damien Hurst. I wait to see if professional comedian Cordon can comes up with anything but no. I don’t even think he was trying to be honest. “I’m waiting to turn my life into art” he states. Fat chance, fatty. Side splitting stuff.
Right, where the dickens was I. Who are these imps on my tele singing Teenage Kicks and telling people to make noise? Oh, it’s One Direction. Ah, they’re doing it with ‘One Way or Another” mixed in. Very clever. Anyway, it’s for charity so in the interest of fairness, it is FUCKING BRILLIANT.
Jack Whitehall and some Olympian now present best live act. I used to hate Whitehall, but Fresh Meat is brilliant so I’ll put aside his upper class good looks for now and let him crack on. As the nominees roll round the Rolling Stones are up for the award. Surely this is game over and the other nominees can fuck off home. And obviously I am right; the winner is the Rolling Stones. Hold on, what? Fucking Coldplay? To be fair Coldplay played up near my way recently and the whole wrist band gimmick did look visually stunning. But come on, flashy wanking wrists or Mick and Keith? At this point I’m starting to drink in protest.
Jonny Ross and Tom Daly up now to present Best British single. One whose career recently took a nose dive and,…..ah…..you know where I’m going with this. Maybe I could present the Brits next year with such shite patter? Adele wins for her James Bond pastiche, Skyfall. It’s hardly a vintage year for singles but surely this is some sort of apology from last year? Anyway, Cordon milks his Adele joke for all its worth. Literally milking the fat cow dry.
Taylor Swift does a turn next, having a bit of a sing and a dance whilst dressed like something off a Tim Burton film set. And I tell you what kids, it isn’t all bad either. I could see myself nodding along to it if I was in someone else’s car and wasn’t in charge of the radio desperate to put Talksport on. Halfway through the performance she whips her dress off now and has gone from Tim Burton to Paul Verhoeven theme. Performance of the night so far for me.
After Swifts strip tease there was a minor thought that I was being a bit of a pervy old man. However Cordon put things into perspective by exclaiming “Wow, she was really fit”. Nice work Jimbo.
Dave Grohl is now back on again, this time presenting Best International Group. I pray for anyone but The fucking Script to win here and I’m over the moon to see The Black Keys win the award and it’s a rare victory for proper Rock and Roll tonight
And now it is Ben Howards turn to get up and show off why he was worthy of 2 awards tonight. To be honest Im not sure if volume broke on my TV at this point or my tinnitus flared up but the performance isn’t memorable. Remember David Gray? Me either. Reminds me of him.
Cordon then conducts a painful interview with Alt J before 2 people I have never seen before are up to present Best Solo Male. I would like to see Jack White win but its Frank Ocean who is the victor. He aint my cup of tea but I can see spray tanned youths dancing like gypsies at a wedding to it. And who am I to deny them that.
Right, serious stuff now. War Child. Great Cause. I see it flash up every time I load up Football Manager. Damon Albarn seems to be take the whole thing very seriously by being extremely pissed when asked to talk about it. Rock and Roll Damon. I suppose it’s less embarrassing than last years cockney knees up with Phil Daniels. Fuck me that was bad. As I say though, good cause is War Child. Have a look at http://brits.warchild.org.uk/ or text to SAFE to 704444. We all did it here at Gigslutz HQ and giving up a London price pint isn’t the hardest thing in the world to do is it.
Mumford and Sons on live next. They aren’t that bad I suppose. Id never begrudge a band who go out and do themselves with a sound somewhat original. On the other hand I just fear for the couple who meet on the dance floor to this song. You know they’re gonna end up vegetarians and the stag do is gonna involve paintballing.
Speaking of parents meeting Brian Ferry is up next to present Album of the year. A little known fact (or well know if you’ve ever stood next to my dad in a pub) is that my dad met my mam when he danced with her to Love is the Drug. The worst part of the story for me and my brothers is always the kiss off “and when I left the next morning I knew Id met the love of my life). Mother, please, have some dignity!
Anyway, Emeli Sandé is the winner of said award. It can’t have been a great year for British albums if this is the best. She seems a canny enough lass though. Robbie now presents some made up Global Success award which basically seems designed to show One Direction again. Fair play to them, it isn’t easy to sell 9.5million albums in this day and age and you can’t knock Harry’s “buck the lot” mentality. He’ll be on the gear by the end of the decade in my opinion.
As we come towards the end I start to relax that it’s almost over we get Grimes and Corden sharing a moment pretending to be gay. Not only is this offensive to gay people (possibly) it’s offensive to people who have TVs. How is this fat man on TV? Bring back Mick Fleetwood and Sam Fox I say.
It’s the end of the show and I’m exhausted; it’s not exactly been a vintage evening of British TV or talent. Emeli Sandé closes the show and her safe tinkering is a fitting end to a dull show. I dunno, maybe shes great but by this point I cant be arsed. And I think that sums up the awards as a whole to be honest. There’s been some great stuff out in the last 12 months but the producers clearly couldn’t be arsed. And with a large swig of wine I shuffle off to bed proud Ive made through the evening. Please feel free to leave comments as to how wrong I am. And can anyone confirm Nick Grimshaw actually gay / straight?