It's a pretty sad reflection on this week's releases that this gets top spot, and that's mainly due to the fact it sounds more like The Charlatans than anything else. A funky-lite tune over some battery-operated beats, topped off with Ian Brown's unmistakable vocals and hardly earth-shattering lyrics ("I'm caught in the middle, you're next to me, I swim with the fishes, you come from the sea"), "Dolphins Were Monkeys" spins right round like a record for a while, then shuffles off again. Not bad, but Brown's solo material is merely the dirt underneath the Stone Roses' toenails, and this does little to scrape it out.
The bizarre "tonight, Matthew, I'm going to be Michael Jackson" cover of "Billie Jean" follows, injecting air into the original's bloodstream to make something a bit sinister and brooding, but altogether a bit pointless.
The "Goldfinger" remix of "Dolphins Were Monkeys" sidles up next, bigger of beat and featuring the vocals locked up in a steel box and buried under sixteen feet of concrete, resulting in muzak for a robots' supermarket.
The CD also includes the video, and a collection of photos of Mr Brown, looking far more like a monkey than a dolphin.
Rating: 7/10
The Rest
The Suede it's ok to say "who?" about, My Life Story have been peddling their inoffensive and largely ineffectual wares for some years now, standing about on street corners holding trays full of their well-crafted but mostly forgettable singles. "Walk / Don't Walk" is a pleasant little lilting number, floating its way past the likes of Squeeze and Ben Folds Five on its journey down the great big river of pop. The track is at its best when it soars above its shuffling production, but sadly it only does this once, its wings not being strong enough to lift it up into the clouds where it aspires to be.
"Holy Deadlock" strides up next, riding an elasticated bassline and wearing big New Wave boots. Reminiscent of Warm Jets (whither they now?), this struts around admirably with its chest puffed out and its cheeks sucked in, synth stabs emanating from its heart like lightning bolts. Shoulda put this one on the a-side, guys.
Which is certainly not where "Cherries" would ever belong, being an overblown and overlong "epic" (with all the negative connotations that word carries) that makes you wish you were doing something far less tedious than listening to it, like getting your toenails extracted. And that's the second time this week I've mentioned toenails - I'm sure it must all mean something.
Rating: 6/10
Now at least something to get my teeth (or toenails) into...This spectacular non-event of a single is supposed to herald the triumphant return of the eyebrow brothers onto the British music scene. Instead, it has all the excitement of waiting for a bus to arrive, and on top of that finding out the bus was built in 1963 and only has three wheels. As dull as watching ditchwater grow, "Go Let It Out" sees the Gallagher's throwing up their record collections into the air, and making a song out of what lands on the ground again. The Beatles are the most tediously obvious influence, but the boys' overrated back catalogue also has bits spliced onto it here and there, particularly in the terrace chant of a chorus masquerading as something altogether more stellar. This is the sort of hideous nonsense that gave us Sleeper and Menswear, but thankfully "Go Let It Out" is so mind-numbingly underambitious and dull it is unlikely even to inspire the biggest of Weiners to pick up a guitar.
Go turn it off.
"Let's All Make Believe" sees Liam once more worship at the feet of John Lennon ("let's all make believe that all mankind's gonna feed our brother" - gah), in a horribly drippy bit of hippy tedium, then Gallagher senior takes the mic with an equally dull (as in Paul Weller kind of dull) ballad hilariously entitled "(As Long As They've Got) Cigarettes In Hell".
Give me snot-nosed teen faux rebellion (Daphne & Celeste would make coconut milk of this lot) any time over this over-studied, over-serious, over-rated and over...thank Christ - it's over.
Rating: 0/10
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