You know when she wasn’t smoking crack, getting abused by her douchebag of a husband or giving lacklustre performances on prominent UK TV Talent Shows (Ed – Ahem), Whitney Houston was pretty fucking good.
To me there are two versions of Whitney Houston. 80s Whitney and 90s Whitney. Both were brilliant in different ways.
80s Whitney Houston comes on like a baby tiger cub. Fresh from the litter and full of the exuberance of a creature who has never been hurt before. Unafraid, unapologetic and not reluctant to ask questions. She’s curious and hopeful and all the other cool adjectives you are before you become ‘old’ and ‘jaded’.
How Will I Know?
I wanna Dance with Somebody
The budgets are small, the hair is big and the tunes are huge.
90s Whitney is grown up. She’s singing about having her heart broken by some douche bag. Wearing leather and snarling. I reckon this era of Whitney’s career laid a lot of the ground work for songs such as Kelis’s ‘Caught Out There’ (Ed – Released in the same year, a few months later), Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ and Beyoncé’s ‘Me, Myself And I’ and later ‘Best Thing I never Had’
It’s Not Right But It’s Okay
I Learnt From the Best
But it wasn’t all heartbreak and subsequent empowerment. Despite the leather-bound ice queen image, the old Whitney was still present on songs like this.
My Love is Your Love
I must have listened to this song about five million times when I was 15. Little wonder – it’s amazing. This is how I’d like to remember her. Raise your lighters folks. (Ed – *fumbles for BIC*)
January, being the temporal equivalent of a big smelly and hungry hangover, is a month that requires support. I’m not talking “Joan-Rivers keep-my-crazy-ladylips-fast-and-loose” support. I’m talking about “It’s FUCKING cold. I have to go to FUCKING work. Everyone is FUCKING annoying. And I just stepped on one of those FUCKING paving stones that make your feet wetter than Ed Sheeran’s underpants when ever he hears his “music” played in the caff on Eastenders”. That type of support.
So to ease those dark, early morning commutes and cold, lonely nights I’ll recommend songs which are the aural equivalent of Michael Fassbender whipping his top off, to cover you when you’re cold.
Songs that make you think, “Yeah! James Franco is totally thinking about me naked. And he’s not even gay!”
These songs will swoop into your bedraggled grey matter, shoot glitter-jizz all over your cerebral cortex and pump firewhiskey into your belly. They’re a jumpstart. A slap in the week’s face. From next week they’ll be posted on Monday. But for those who are craving a little hump-day treat I present this.
I heard this song at a friend’s house last year and it lodged itself in my head like SONIC BRAIN CRABS. When I got home I listened to it a couple more times. Then a couple more. Then I previewed the rest of the album (Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming) and bought it fair and square, with money and everything.
The song makes you feel like the kids in the video. Young, strong and powerful (Ed – Woah, this is all a bit Oprah). It sounds as huge as M83 deserve to be.
Now I know the video begins with a pair of chinos. But there are no chino wankers. It is amazing. Stick with it. It’s kind of like if X-Men had been directed by Gus Van Sant. Or if the Goonies had super powers.
I’m going to see M83 LIVE this evening. So yeah, if I come back with telekinetic abilities, don’t expect any more blog posts. I’ll be too busy throwing old caravans into walls and pulling hot guys trousers down WITH MY MIND.