Review of 9 Songs (2004) by Catalina B — 16 Oct 2007

Two insipid twats fuck their way through the NME's 'What's On' Guide over the course of a year, interspersed with nice shots of Antarctica.

You know what I hate? Live videos. When a band have a single out, and they serve up some shoddy footage that does nothing to capture the joy of a live event, filled with bobbing heads and light shows that only look impressive IN THE ACTUAL VENUE. You know what I almost hate more? Pretentious faux-art house hardcore of some gormless Nathan shagging a skinny indie chick, proving portrayal of the beautiful act of lovemaking is better served by a Ben Dover video. The sex may well be 'real', but the interaction feels fake and stilted, and the pair themselves are so detestable that I may well have to go out and kill all couples, just to spare single people from the boredom of such self-absorbed pricks. Some of the sex is beautifully shot; dark heavily saturated shadow and rich golden tones...but by the umpteenth time you've seen Sally No-Tits and her gurning steed get it on, the viewer is bored to tears. The gigs are a perfect example of what was trendy at the time (with the exception of the Dandies, who somehow snuck in despite being perrenially naff) and even the good songs (Super Furries, Primal Scream) are presented in whining, strained renditions. There is some respite when the hateful duo take time off from attendning EVERY GIG AT BRIXTON ACADEMY to catch Nyman, (possibly because they read the Guardian that weekend) and it is his music that comes closest to saving this dross, but sadly it's not enough to raise this pretentious drivel above the level of a pseudo-intellectual wank-flick.

My advice? Find someone you love, and experience great live music and even better sex in real life. At least then you won't have to sit through BRMC...TWICE...