Listen up, this is a confession worthy of Usher himself: Just the other day, whilst at work, I found myself voluntarily listening to Gabrielle. Of course, we all remember Gabrielle, the overly-fringed, 90s soul sensation who taught us that ‘dreams can come true’. But, can any of us truthfully say that she had such a profound impact upon our music taste that we would not only think of her unprompted, but also go to the bother of searching for her music on youtube to listen to again, especially whilst our computer was in full view of potentially judgemental colleagues?
And yet… here I was, struggling to control my foot-tapping to ‘Give Me a Little More Time’, (that’s right, I powered through the whole ‘Rise’ album, track by track). I am usually fairly discerning about what music I listen to, striving to restrict my intake to a controlled diet of talented musicians and meaningful lyrics. The sweet, but undeniably feeble ‘easy-listening’ genre, or as I like to call it ‘mum music’, that Gabrielle unfortunately finds herself in these days, I would previously have never even considered as a potential soundtrack to my office afternoon. So, what caused me that fateful day to fall so suddenly from the lofty heights of my musical snobbery? After much deliberation, I have concluded that is was this: Subconscious despair at the current UK Singles Chart.
It is not at all uncommon for people to complain about the singles chart, I know. Anything that purports to represent the opinions and tastes of an entire nation in the way that the chart does, is sure to raise the hackles of those who would rather go on a cruise around the Mediterranean with Noel Edmunds than purchase a Jessie J album. However, I am sure the chart situation is at an all time low at the moment. I know this, because as much as I usually avoid taking any interest in the UK Top 20 whatsoever, hours and silent hours of office work have, on many occasions in the last month, led me to delve into the dangerous world of Radio 1, out of sheer curiosity. And at the risk of sounding like a cantankerous grandma, what a sorry state of affairs I found.
The most part of the chart comprises ‘songs’ that follow a banal and grossly uninventive formula: Firstly, take a beat that sounds like it has been ripped straight off of the Yamaha Dd45 drum machine I received for christmas in 1998. Next, select one of the following interchangeable rappers – Pharrell/Flo Rida/Kanye West/Snoop Dogg (or Lionn, or Monkeyy or whatever he calls himself now), and ask them kindly to produce a rap featuring a tenuous rhyme scheme and at least 12 references to ‘twerking’. Next, recruit whatever vacuous, insipid female singer is of the moment, and ask her to simply repeat the same meaningless line continually at regular intervals. Lastly, include a watered down dub-step drop, to appear just as the song should surely be ending. This formula has proved successful in the charts for countless artists over the last few years. It has even mercilessly sucked the soul from singers that once at least had integrity and individuality, even if they were not to my personal taste, such as the poor, over-worked Ellie Goulding, whose voice has become so whispy and frail of late that it must have taken hours of auto-tune just to render it audible in her current chart dweller, Burn.
Apart from having been created in such a wearily predictable manner, such chart tunes are also of a style and genre that I can’t help but feel is only really appropriate for a nightclub setting. I would personally find it much too incongruous to download current number 1, ‘Talk Dirty’ by the once-harmless Jason Derulo, for casual listenings on the tube as I commute to work, staring around at sleepy businessmen drinking coffee, and having the song’s delightful rap, performed by ‘2 Chainz’, interspersed with audio-updates about the Piccadilly line. It makes me wonder then, how this song has reached number 1 in the charts, which is compiled solely according to copies of the single that have been sold. Unless millions of people up and down the country are planning on opening underground, crunk clubs in their bedrooms and are stocking up on bangin’ tunes for the opening night…
So, after the assault on the integrity of musical production that is Jason Derulo and his fellow chart inhabitants, it is understandable that I found myself craving the soothing melodies and identifiable instruments that Gabrielle provides. However, surely such an antidote could be found in any music produced the traditional way (that is, at least 50% instruments, not entirely a macbook and autotune). Still the question remains, why Gabrielle?
Perhaps the answer lies in lyrical significance. It is a rare occurrence in the chart that a song has been produced by one artist alone. It seems as though pretty much every artist is only half complete, invariably needing to ‘feat.’ another. Usually this involves one of the interchangeable rappers lending their talents for what I can only assume is a massive cut of the profits. The aforementioned ‘2 Chainz’ does so for his best pal Jason, adding such beautiful and truly heartwarming thoughts as ‘sold out arenas, you can suck my penis’, the baffling ‘her pussy so good, I bought her a pet’ and my personal favourite ‘I know what the girls need, New York to Haiti’. Considering the still incredibly fragile state of Haiti and its people, I am fairly sure that 2 Chainz is unable to provide what any of its female natives need. Unless he is willing to sell one of his chainz for international aid.
And this is only one example of the deeply worrying and bemusing lyrics that form the best (worst) part of the UK Chart. I am sure I do not need to go into detail about misdirected grandpa Robin Thicke, and his latest offering, which is so striking a surrender to the lustreless banality of ‘popular music’ I am surprised his video didn’t display the message ‘Robin Thicke has a big dick, but even just claiming that is all part of a sycophantic attempt to fit in with much more youthful musicians so as not to have to accept his career died with the release of ‘When I Get You Alone”. Although I guess that wouldn’t have made such a good hashtag…
If there’s one thing Gabrielle can offer us, it is lyrics that reflect the most valuable and relatable things in life, things startlingly absent from the hedonistic, epicurean angle that current chart artists seem to espouse. Namely, love, hope, dreams, happiness etc. So, my advice to you, is don’t bother with Radio 1. It won’t be a life-affirming experience, that’s for damn sure. Instead, just take 3 minutes to remember how good this song was the first time around. Or if nothing else, just admire the bejewelling on that eyepatch.