Effortlessness is of course the cornerstone of cool.

That’s why the Chesterfield hanging out of the corner of James Dean’s mouth is better than the Benson being desperately tugged on by the 14 yr old on the corner of your street. It’s why more guitarists want to be Hendrix than Angus Young. It’s why every indie rocker in the late 80s wanted to be J Mascis.

And with that Dinosaur Jr reference we’ll move clumsily and rather obviously onto Yuck, a band who seemingly can’t be described by writers outside of the context of their apparent influences. Which is a pity since Yuck’s crime isn’t sounding derivative, it ‘s sounding authentic.

There’s plenty of bands that sound like they spent too many nights arguing over which is the best Sonic Youth album but few that have managed to amount to anything more than an NME cover. Late 80s American indie-rock is a tough genre to incorporate into your sound and retain an identity. Bands seem to master the sound and forget to write any memorable tunes. It’s why Biffy Clyro only soared when they realised that their heroes Nirvana were great because they wanted to write pop songs and the distortion pedals were the means, not the end. It’s also why The Vines are just a footnote.

The thirty-somethings in the audience tonight no doubt appreciated the familiarity of some of Yuck’s melodies, but the reason their debut album will be featuring in everyone’s lists at the end of the year isn’t just some exploitation of the plaid pound but their knack for songwriting  that manages to be both catchy and emotive. As great as the bands closest to their sound are/were, few of them had hooks that took up long-term residence in your head ready to burst out when the shower starts. Freak Scene and Teenage Riot are the exceptions that prove the rule.

For a band with just a debut album to their name, their set contains very little filler. Sure, new track Soothe Me seems surplus to their existing singles but the repetitive refrain of The Wall gets a surprisingly calm audience moving. Not that Yuck are begging for approval, that effortlessness belies an appreciation of the power of the instant hook. At their best, such as on Georgia, they manage a combine that hook with a perfect mix of listlessness and heartfelt sincerity.  Yuck, however have two settings and they unleash the slow-burners in the encore. The penultimate song  features percussion mixed to virtual silence resulting in a psychedelic jam reminiscent of My Bloody Valentine on a boring day. Maybe it was just an enormous intro to Rubber, with which they finished. This is probably the sort of thing we should know.

So here Yuck are, finishing the first chapter of their career- an assured debut, comparisons to all the right bands and a benevolent press talking them up. The second chapter will almost certainly feature the high-profile support slot and the talked about festival appearances. What follows after, the second album, will be the test…

Hello. Are you a Westlife fan, troubled by the news that your Princes are going away to enjoy their moneyed-lives with their families and friends? Are you worried that there will suddenly be a void of mawkish, soaring ballads to sooth you while you self-harm in a bath of ice?

It’s bad news we’re afraid.

Westlife’s members have confirmed that the musical equivalent of an itchy jumper are unlikely to ‘do a Take That’ and get back together in a few years. Is it because Take That were always more relevant to pop music or is it because the Boyzone tribute market isn’t as lucrative as it once was? Who knows. Certainly not us.

There’s definitely no question of money. Especially not after Westlife announced that they will part next year after releasing a greatest hits compilation and going on a tour of Ireland & the UK (because no other countries care). Definitely nothing to do with grabbing a quick buck before they head of into the wilderness to await their call to the Never Mind The Buzzcocks ‘line-up’.

Kian (whoever that is) told someone or other that definitely wasn’t us:

“We walked away from a multi-million-pound record deal that would have changed our lives forever, secured our future beyond anything.”

Not that they’re skint, you understand. A career of covering other people’s hard work and standing from a stool when middle-aged women scream at you is both reminiscent of a Chippendale and surprisingly lucrative.

“It’s not about the money. We’d have made far more on a new record than we ever would with a comeback tour.”

Oh, good. It’s not about the money. They’ve decided they don’t want to put out a concept album. Presumably a concept album of them covering other people’s concept songs. We can’t confirm anything because they’re splitting up. Kian refused to address the issue of how much money they would make out of a greatest hits album and a farewell tour, having our hecklerspray reporter removed when he audaciously suggested that he was a money-obsessed hypocrite in a stained white suit.

Still they’ll make some money from their inevitable solo careers. Another Westlife member- apparently- Shane also told reporters that they will support each other when one decides to release an awful solo album, aiming to become the 21st Century’s Daniel O’Donnell.

“The first person to decide to do a solo record, the other three will all be there.

Wait… if they’re all there… would that not be another Westlife record?

“Everyone’s thought about going solo — I would love to continue singing for a living.”

At the moment though, Westlife are channelling all their efforts into the farewell tour, making sure that their stage show isn’t as boring as their music. Luckily, nothing was mentioned about ticket prices. It’s not about the money after all. It’s about the opportunity to say goodbye to their fans. Perhaps they’ll waves handkerchiefs… or £50 notes.

In case you gave half a hoot, Brian McFadden (the one whose name you know because he mounted Kerry Katona like a peroxide stallion) will not be joining them on stage. Apparently he has enough money. Somehow.

“We still sext him and stuff, but he’s not coming back.”

It’s a terrible time to be a Westlife fan. But then by the same token, we imagine it’s not been a great 13 years. Don’t worry though. They’ll be back in a few years. Bet your house on it.

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ITV2 is a very odd channel. They seem intent on keeping Kerry Katona’s career alive for reasons that quite frankly baffle anyone with half a brain cell, even budget supermarket Iceland had enough sense to get rid of her and they had an advert in which Jason Donovan did the can-can in fish nets.

But even by their usual insane standards ITV2 has thrown us a curve ball, by using an obscure 90s alternative band famed for excess and eccentricity to advertise their middle of the road teen drama Gossip Girl.

Whilst getting our daily Loose Women fix we here in the hecklerspray bedsit couldn’t help but notice that the trailer for the new series of Gossip Girl featured the song Love Your Money by Daisy Chainsaw.

Because what says cool teen drama about modern day problems better than a pre-Cobain anthem about how shallow the record industry is?

For those unfamiliar with Daisy Chainsaw they were an alt.grunge band that inhabited the early to mid 90s with a borderline creepy juxtaposition of grinding guitars and child like vocals who went on to become the cult, Paris based, post-millennium rock band Queen Adreena.

They were also once referenced in an episode of Roseanne as Darlene’s favourite band, which automatically elevates their status to legendary.

Imagine if Gossip Girl star and singer for the Pretty Reckless, Taylor Momson, was fused with Keith Richards by way of post meltdown Charlie Sheen and you’ve probably got a pretty good idea of what Daisy Chainsaw singer KatieJane Garside was like in her Daisy Chainsaw days.

Garside once reportedly got so tired of her fame that she went to live in the woods for a few years. Could you imagine the sweet little pop-punk rebel Taylor Momson doing that, living in the woods, all on her own? She wouldn’t last a day without her eyeliner.

Plus she’d actually have to do something of note to achieve said fame in the first place, other than getting her underage baps out for the enjoyment of nonces everywhere that is.

While we’re naturally delighted that Daisy Chainsaw (and therefore Queen Adreena) are being given a fresh breath of life, we just wish it didn’t have to be in a bloody Gossip Girl trailer.

Because there’s nothing more annoying than listening to one of your favourite early 90s rock song without some peroxide blonde, Fukushima orange, shrieking jezebel, clad in an oversized t-shirt that proclaims something vacuous like OMG or LOL, clacking her way towards you in stripper heels whilst using her piercing, shrill voice to loudly exclaim, “OMG! Is that like, the song from the gossip girl ad!? It’s totally fetch!”

Although, it would be brilliant to see the new series of whatever it is ITV2 use as a platform to show Kerry Katona advertised using the Queen Adreena song Pretty Like Drugs.

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Hayley Williams, lead singer of faux-rock band Paramore, is in the news again and this time she’s managed to do it without exposing her, frankly disappointing, baps out for the entire world to see.

Apparently Williams is upset that people she is alleged to have forced out of the band aren’t happy about being allegedly forced out of the band.

Earlier in the week former Paramore guitarist Josh Farro royally through his toys out of the pram and wrote a scathing blog post that detailed how he and his brother Zac felt forced out of Paramore, possibly by Williams’ chest.

Farro, who was a founding member of Paramore, was heavily critical of Williams’ family as well as both of Paramore’s former and current record labels, Atlantic and the stupidly named Fuelled by Ramen respectively.

Moments after Farro’s blog post appeared, the bands 12-year-old Twilight loving fan base went into meltdown, seeing it as one of the harbingers of the apocalypse.

Would their favourite band make it through this whiny cry for attention unscathed, or would it cause them to go their separate ways, breaking literally some hearts while the rest of us continue not to give a toss about Hayley Williams or her rack?

Only time will tell, although Williams insists that the band is still together and will be working on new material.

Bugger.

Williams was quoted as saying that all of the negativity that was being spread was, “a real drag.” Proving once again that there really isn’t much underneath all that brightly coloured hair.

In related news sales of razorblades have tripled since Farro’s blog post went up.

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Are you a fan of tedious, formless, mostly improvised songs that go on for three hours longer than the point of normal human endurance?

You are? Well have we got some good news for you! Phish – the defunct jam-band predominantly famous for a) having some ice cream named after it and b) totally soundtracking that epic hacky sack marathon you and your buddies had in your parent’s backyard one afternoon back when you were 28 – are reuniting.

Phish have announced three special comeback dates in Virginia for next March, their first since disbanding in 2004. We’ll definitely be attending the Phish reunion shows – it’s been too long since we last caught beard nits off a hippy after stumbling into the middle of a drearily self-satisfied drum circle in the carpark of an old WWF arena.

Rolling Stone once called Phish ‘one of the most important bands of the Nineties’ – recognition that puts them right up there with Kula Shaker, Sugar Ray and the band that did the theme tune to Friends.

But it’s easy to see why Phish received a title like that – more than most bands, Phish flourished because of the community behind them. Their meandering, overlong, improvised jazz fusion jam workouts were simply a soundtrack to huge open-air festivals where friends could meet, play frisbee, get ripped to the tits on stolen cough medicine and twirl around like cocks in a spirit of universal brotherhood.

So it was a bittersweet day when Phish announced that they were splitting up in 2004. True, it meant that you’d never get to see a group of millionaires in their forties play 20 songs in a row that all seem to sound exactly like the one that directly preceded it in a disused airbase any more, but at least the spirit of Phish would live on in that delicious Ben & Jerry’s ice cream flavour and the crappy rave scene from The Matrix Reloaded.

Until now. Because now, you see, Phish are back. According to The LA Times:

The Vermont-based jam band, will reunite for shows March 6-8 in Hampton, Va., and is expected to announce additional performances for 2009. Rumors of a reunion have been heating up since… three of the four Phish members played together in July at the Rothbury Festival in Michigan. All four showed up last month and played at the wedding of their road manager Brad Sands.

Phish played at a wedding? We’re not sure how we feel about that. On one hand it’d probably be quite fun to see all your elderly relatives get so overwhelmed by the band’s elaborate jazz-rock grooves that they end up buying a bunch of laughing gas balloons from a hippy in the corner. But on the other hand The Squirming Coil isn’t exactly Agadoo, is it?

But still, we’re genuinely pleased that Phish are getting back together – and more pleased that their first shows aren’t until March. Because that’ll give you plenty of time to ditch your job at the law firm and dedicate your life to getting your beard long enough to put elastic bands in again. It’ll be fun.

If it’s not soaring petrol costs, immigrants stealing all the crap jobs that no-one wants or obesity, then there’s always one story on TV – bloody global warming and our apparently massive carbon footprint.

While the USA, China, India and other big fuck off countries do nothing to force their citizens into any vague ecological action, it’s the UK that suffers. Rubbish pop stars and crap celebrities rally round to try and make us believe they give a shit and shake off any twatty image they may have.

How do they do this? That’s right, by song. Which is why indie twig Johnny Borrell is going to environmentally gig it up with a band made up of MPs. Maybe they’ll cover the cost by putting it on their expenses.

What’s this? Could Johnny Borrell really be sacking everyone in Razorlight to join a rock band made of politicians? If it’s true, angry speak from fans like IloVEu4EvErJoHNe on the Razorlight fan forum will go along the lines of “omg I hope you’re not replacing the band with these dad rockerz. Wot ave u done?”

But wait -  before outraged Razorlight fans rally everyone round to start a huge fire and probably emit more carbon gases, we are sadly informed to tell you that Razorlight is intact. This is all just some awful malformed charity gig.

Yup, Johnny Borrell wants to play some happy clappy tunes with the people who brainwash us into thinking that sausages give us cancer and that we’re all single handily breaking the planet. You know the planet – the thing that’s been around for a few billion years and ain’t split in half just yet.

In order to raise some money for climate change and definitely not to use as money for down the pub, Johnny Borrell has enlisted some powerful friends to help him out. As the NME reports:

“The five politicians, including Lembit Opik, will perform a rendition of John Denver‘s ‘Leaving On A Jet Plane’ in the museum’s Aviation Room to highlight the campaign’s main point. As well as Opik, the band of cross-party MPs dubbing themselves The Aviators features the SNP‘s Peter Wishart, Conservative Anne Milton and Labour‘s Emily Thornberry and Ian Cawsey.”

Yeah, that’ll stop global warming – an indie twat and five nondescript politicians singing a John Denver song in a museum. Take that, slowing Atlantic thermoelastic circulation! Seriously, who are these people? No, really, we don’t know who any of them are.

We aren’t too familiar with politicians. Maybe if they printed up some MP stickers we’d be a bit more familiar with them. Honestly, it would be like a grown-up version of football stickers. We’re sure The Financial Times could give away a pack everyday and you could spend your precious lunch hour swapping Gordon Brown for that elusive Alistair Darling shiny.

Lembit Opik is the only person we know from Borrell’s all-star line up. And that’s only because he has a name that sounds like something that would be served with a curry. And also because he’s married to a Cheeky Girl. Or as she calls him, “a ticket to a UK passport.”

Read more:

Razorlight’s Johnny Borrell to perform with Lembit Opik – NME