Yes, we know it’s not polite to dwell on awfulness but know your enemy and all that. Here are 2010′s ten worst pop singles…
Katie Price has done pretty well for herself by selling shit. She sells shit books to adults and shit books to children. She sells shit perfumes, shampoos, false eyelashes, baby clothes and shirts to wear when you’re riding a horse.
But when it came to selling shit pop music – and don’t forget this was Price’s second attempt at chart stardom – she found that nobody was interested. It’s a popular misconception, and one frequently held by vile opportunists like Katie Price, that low quality, no-redeeming-features pop is easy to palm off on music fans. They look at the charts and they think, “people will buy anything”. And people do, indeed, purchase some awful tunes. But they do not just buy anything. Specifically, they do not buy shit like this.
True to form, as soon as Price noticed during the week of release that the single was flopping, she distanced herself from the song, admitting she couldn’t sing. That’s how people like Price get ahead in life: if it’s not going well, ditch it. Whether it’s a pop single or a human being, just trash it and move on. Trample everything.
Travie McCoy feat Bruno Mars
“I am going to do a faux-humble song about a cutesy getajob surf dude slacker wishing he was rich,” Travie McCoy presumably thought one day. “And I am going to sing it. The only problem is that I am already fairly rich due to the freakish success of awful pop tunes in my back catalogue, so it wouldn’t be right for me to be singing about wishing I was a millionaire. Let’s keep things realistic – I will have to wish I were a billionaire.”
And so 2010′s most obscenely patronising pop tune was born: a song, released during the worst recession for 100 years, in which a mere million dollars is deemed not quite enough to be getting on with.
Thanks for that, Travie ‘Man Of The People’ McCoy. Thanks a fucking lot.
As well as possessing, in the shape of “da da da…”, the clunkiest so-called ‘hook’ this side of Cheryl Cole’s toe-curlingly moronic “alouette uette uette” chant, ‘Wear My Kiss’ was a substanceless, sluttily provocative piece of lowest common denominator pop totally at odds with every value one would have associated with the original Sugababes lineup.
As such, it marked the miserable and squalid end for one of British pop’s best girlbands. Depressing stuff.
Daisy Dares You
Daisy Dares You seemed like a good idea at one point, but by the time she started actually releasing music it turned out that she was the worst major label pop signing of the last five years. She had a good song, but this was not it.
To be clear, ‘Rosie’ song was not good. In fact it was the opposite of good. It was very, very bad.
“So we’ve made this track that sounds like a pastiche of a crap Lily Allen tune. Problem is, it’s not quite bad enough.”
“Throw in a shouting tramp?”
Clearly aiming for the everyman recession anthem market, The Script turned in wallowing boreathon ‘For The First Time’ earlier this year.
We recently asked Popjustice’s Twitter followers to pick their least favourite line from this song’s lyrics – there was no clear winner because ever word is awful but particular favourites included “drinking our cheap bottles of wine”, “she’s in line at the dole with her head held high”, “I’m drinking Jack all alone in my local bar” and “is it God’s test?”.
A musical disaster.
Scouting For Girls
You could argue that it is something of an achievement to follow up a Number One single (April’s comeback tune ‘This Ain’t A Love Song’, in which Scouting For Girls hinted that they might not be utterly awful after all) with a song so relentlessly bad that it limps to a pathetic Number 37 and kills off an entire album campaign.
Perhaps it’s an achievement in the same way that to have murdered someone is, arguably, an achievement, and ‘Famous’ – the sound of Scouting For Girls deciding TEN YEARS AFTER EVERYONE ELSE to write a song about how some stuff happens on TV and ooh isn’t it bad or something – should carry a similar penalty.
Life in prison for Roy and the other two, please.
This sounded shit to everyone.
Cage Against The Machine
Just watch the video above. Watch the serious ‘n’ authentic musicians falling over each other to show just how much they get the joke. Hahaha very funny.
The warning signs were there as early as June (who can forget “We’re just jamming to the tunes”gate) but Olly Murs’ debut single, the rather enjoyable ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’, suggested that his pop career might not be too bad after all.
How wrong. How sadly, awfully, dangerously wrong.
The hatbothering tit’s second single, seemingly aimed at the lucrative gap year market, was trustafarian twatmagnet ‘Thinking Of Me’. If you have not seen the video – in which Olly Murs behaves like an utter bellend for three and a half minutes – now is the time to embrace this song’s heroic badness. Harrowing though it may seem, to endure the video would be an investment for the future because only by accepting this tune and video into your life can you begin to overcome and eventually conquer its badness.
While you are watching the video, you will see a scene in which Olly dances around on top of a bollard. It is a poignant scene. If someone – anyone – on that video shoot had greased the top of that bollard, Murs could have slipped and torn his cock and balls clean off this body, thus protecting the world from any chance of this awful, awful man ever fathering children. But nobody did grease the bollard, and the nightmare may continue for many generations to come.
Food for thought there, readers. Food for thought.