Donald Trump is a man of many talents; he pioneered the modern day comb over, he discovered that President Obama was actually a Senegalese street cleaner called Babacar Ousamane, causing him to resign from the Presidency and is rumoured to have been the man who killed Kim Jong-il, with a Chuck Norris style roundhouse.

But now, ‘The Donald,’ as he is known, has made his most audacious claim yet, he (and he alone) is personally responsible for the meteoric rise to fame of the 21^st Century musical behemoth, Lady Gaga.

That’s right, if it wasn’t for Donald Trump the world would never have been subjected to the second coming of Madonna.

Top man Trump, stated that it was his choice to have Gaga perform during the 2008 Miss Universe pageant. The resulting performance that she put on got tongues wagging, with people all over the world reportedly not talking about the pageant because they were too busy wondering who that entertainer was.

Naturally there was no mention of the fact that Gaga’s inaugural performance came just after the crucial Miss Universe Wank Threshold. After which it’s assumed that any and all viewers have finally reached their climax and so they’d better wheel out the performing monkey to distract them and give them a little bit of time to recover.

America’s answer to Lord Sugar wasn’t done there though.

Now that he’s successfully managed to convince everyone that he brought us Gaga, instead of simply being a bit gaga, Trump has begun work on his next outlandish claim.

Rumours have been circling Stateside that Trump is planning to claim that he is in fact the man in the moon, having acquired the advertising rights after a hostile takeover of NASA that took place just before they had to scrap the space shuttle program.

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…

As Michael Jackson was born of his mother’s womb while filming a Pepsi commercial with his hair on fire, his main thought was probably about how he’d one day like to inflict that same pain onto his own child.

And now he finally will. As everybody who enjoys watching glittery skeletons dance all about already knows, MJ is having a series of big comeback gigs this summer – and he’s reportedly decided to use the opportunity to launch the career of his 12-year-old son Prince Michael I.

At this time last year Michael Jackson was just a guy who enjoyed dressing like a woman while applying makeup to his face in public Bahraini women’s bathrooms. An awful lot has changed since then, though. For instance he’s not in Bahrain right now. Another thing that’s changed is that people are once again willing to give him money. This is great news for all of his bleeding giraffes. With Jackson’s new found income its possible they can once again afford to scab properly.

This summer as Jackson plays at the London O2 Arena, over one million people will have seen his knees creek dozens of times while he tries unsuccessfully to slide his feet backwards in a smooth manner by the time of the final curtain call. One million is a huge number – and Jackson probably realises that. We said probably. That’s why he’s going to use that opportunity to launch his oldest son into the musical spotlight.

If what the Daily Star says is true, then:

“Pop legend Michael Jackson is set to introduce a surprise special guest at his first London show – his son Prince Michael I. The lad, 12, will make his stage debut at the O2 Arena after being hidden from the world for years. Jacko, 50, has covered his three children in blankets and masks for most of their lives. But he is set to unveil Prince Michael to the world as he carries on the Jackson showbiz family tradition.”

We can hear the conversation now – backstage Prince Michael I (PMI) will be enjoying a nice video game while his dad comes in winded for a costume change and says:

Jacko: Get out there son. It’s your turn.

PMI: Buuuut Daaaaad! I don’t wanna do the zombie dance!

Jacko: (changing his shirt) Just get out there and do the zombie!

PMI: I don’t wanna!

Jacko: (changing his pants) Fine, then no more alleged wine-filled sleepovers for you at other adult males’ houses.

Then PMI sulks to the stage and does the zombie dance, but the audience can tell his heart’s not in it.

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