KID SHIRT

Thursday, January 06, 2005

GIRLFRIEND IN A COMA

(As much as I hate to fucking quote Morrissey...)

This brilliant piece about Girls Aloud by The Wrong Side of Capitalism came to my attention via K-Punk.

"'It’s occurred to me recently that what I find most attractive about Girls Aloud is their apparent apathy..." God, he's right and it's been staring me in the face all along...

The veil has been lifted from my eyes: what I had originally assumed was an outbreak of Gimpy Dancing (copyright Bananarama 1983) has now revealed itself as Lazyitis; an Attack of the Can't Be Bloody Bothered. Watch the video for "Love Machine" and it now becomes obvious: the Girls' 'dance' moves are pretty much non-existent...just turning their bodies to one side slightly seems to require an effort of near-herculean proportions. This is Pop Music with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome: chicks whose nervous-systems are downshifting towards a catatonic Coma State.

Nicola is the worst, by far; she's almost narcoleptic. Just watch her next time they're on TV: what I thought was stage-fright or exhaustion can now be reinterpreted as a terrifying portrait in Entropy or Inertia; a preview of The Heat Death of the Universe. At points during their 'routines', her arms hang limply and her face is slack and lifeless as if the muscles have been paralysed by an attack of terminal ennui. It's like she's nodding on smack.

Levels of languidity such as this can often translate as coldly inhuman and Stepford-like, but GA aren't glacial enough to be Grace Jones...still, they've managed somehow to turn their somnabulism into something advantageous because it has the strange effect of making them look deliriously disinterested in their own careers. GA as unambitious slackers, anyone?

Or are Girls Aloud just the next step in Pop Music's devolution down towards an Idoru-like state of Post-Humanist Entertainment? Is their progressive de-kineticisation merely a prelude to their eventual reabsorption into the Post-Millennial Mediascape?

Maybe. But until the day that they become completely static and are somehow physically digitised by an as-yet unimaginable girl-sized photocopier, I have every confidence that Psychbloke will explain exactly what it is that we find so alluring or erotic about disinterested women...