The Klaxons swooped and won the Mercury Music Prize last week. The tipsters thought the intriguing Bat For Lashes or the powerful Amy Winehouse would vanquish while this scribe crossed everything and hoped against hope that Fionn Regan or Maps would surprise everyone. It wasn’t to be. This sounds daft but I’ve taken against all recent bands that start with ‘K’. The Killers and Kaiser Chiefs are overrated junk in my very humble opinion. Who on earth are The Kooks? The Klaxons, rightly or wrongly, have been caught up is this maelstrom of disaffection and venom. I just think these bands are just a lazy route into ‘alternative music’; a couple of NME front covers and suddenly these ‘K’ bands are all appearing at Glastonbury and adorning the walls of a thousand mundane indie kids’ halls of residence walls. Razorlight doesn’t begin with a ‘K’ but it may as well; I flippin’ hate them too. I’m glad that The Guardian shares my suspicion that The Klaxons might be a bit ropey. There’s much better stuff around; if The Aliens aren’t at least shortlisted for next year’s Mercury with the staggering Astronomy For Dogs I shall despair.
I’ve had a wager on the Rugby World Cup and I’ve published my betting slip for the nation to admire. It’s a ‘double’ so I need both events to come off. I’ve invested four pounds and, for those that find my handwriting an acquired taste, I need