They (being ‘us’) always say that the Americans are a couple of steps behind when it comes to musical innovations. Witness their Blink 182-sponsored bastardisation of punk. Or their feverish love for happy hardcore about ten years after you slapped one of your mates for buying all those ‘Bonkers’ compilation CDs.
Who knows? Maybe in a few years time they’ll have their very own Pete Doherty. And maybe he’ll be a screamingly useless needle-magnet of a ‘musician’ too.
Anyway. Besides all this, you’d think that they’d be able to keep up with the times just a little bit. Like keeping an eye on who is dead or alive and all that.
Not the good folks at Maxim, however.
The U.S branch of the magazine – so bland it makes their UK equivalent look like Granta – has been trying to organise a big special celebrity party full of big special celebrity guests and big (breasted) special naked ladies. They’ve been busy little beavers, mailing out invitations and scouring the contact books.
Yet that isn’t good enough. No – what those Maxim fellas want is the coolest of the cool. The hippest of the hip. That’s why – in a recent internal e-mail sent round the publishing company – those star-beckoning scamps placed a well-known musician atop their priority list.
His name? Ian Curtis.
A novel tact, true. hecklerspray just isn’t sure he’d be much of a conversationalist…
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[story by C J Davies]
