Dear Kurt,
Sorry I haven't written in a while, how are things up (down?) there? Well, Planet Earth has got even stupider over the last few years. Courtney still doesn't get the credit or respect she deserves, I'm afraid. And you know those homophobic redneck idiots you hated coming to your shows? Well, one of them was elected President - twice. Worst of all, Pearl Jam are somehow still together (if you are, um, down there, perhaps you could persuade the big man to withdraw his support?)
Anyway, the main reason I was writing was this new Glitterati album. Sorry, but it looks like you have to come back and finish the job you started. All those horrible hair metal bands you thought you'd wiped out? Well, I'm afraid they're sneaking back through the back door. It all started as a joke (some cretin called Justin Hawkins - don't ask) but now people are getting serious about it.
The Glitterati are being marketed as "new glam", but there's precious little of the wit or style of Bolan about this record. From the first dunderheaded riff of "Betterman" to the moment the singer first opens his big squawking mouth, this is a full-on dumb rawk album, more Bon Jovi than Bowie, more Motley Crue than Mott The Hoople. They play well enough, but Kurt, you and I know how little that matters if you have nothing to play for.
Even the better songs (the Gallagheresque swagger of "Back In Power" or the pile-driving "Do You Love Yourself") are ruined by the sheer macho overload of the sound, the bullyboy riffs and thuggish rhythms. Not to mention the clichés that make up the lyrics, a witless parade of drugs and drink and sex with b list actresses. Kurt, did you ever think someone would dare to start a song braggingly singing "I passed out again" in 2005? Or "one liiine is fiiine sometiiimes"?
And don't even get me onto the two horrible sub-Whitesnake ballads, "Don't Do Romance" and "Here Comes A Close Up", songs with all the grace and soul of a baboon playing cribbage. The fact is Kurt, that though there will be worse records released this year none will be as hopelessly, embarrassingly backwards. We just don't need this testosterone nonsense anymore, if we ever did. So come back and finish the job you started, we need you.
Lots of love,
Jaime
PS: While you're here, could you also do something about Snow Patrol? Thanks.
