Paul McCartney is bringing a new album out. There’s a phrase that hasn’t caused too much excitement since Wings were knee-high to a grasshopper. Unless, of course, you’re a bloated Beatle fanatic who is unable to hear any criticism against any of the Fabs. Ever.
Unless it’s Ringo.
The fact remains, Macca is going to stick a new LP out on 7th February and he’s doing a whole bunch of cover versions because, sadly for him, he’s run out of ideas. The last vague hit he had was ‘Dance Tonight’ and that was thoroughly poo.
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The McCartney family have done alright for themselves haven’t they? Weird that those related to a Beatle should make it completely off their own bat, eh? No help from famous papa there at all! Nope. Never.
Anyway, the child that has done the best is Sir Paul McCartney’s daughter Stella. She likes making clothes that you can’t afford.
Now, she’s created a perfume in tribute to her mother, Linda, which is an absolute godsend for people who like to make snide jokes about the deceased.
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Sir Paul McCartney, of forgotten ’70s beat group Wings, has for some peculiar reason, had his phone hacked by ‘so-called journalists’ and he’s gone grassing everyone up to the police. Including us. We got a letter informing us we’d be under investigation.
Even though we only have one PAYG mobile phone (the one with Snake II on), we do use it to get into people’s voicemails. We’ve got a great story about the not very famous comedian David Schneider, but that’s for another time.
Anyway, Macca is not pleased that we’ve been in his messages, very much in the same way his former wife, Heather Mills, was hopping mad (fnarr) that she’d had her voicemails hacked into and, of course, John Lennon’s chest was very much breached by Mark Chapman with his best gun.
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Although we’re legally obliged to say that Dave Grohl is the nicest man in rock, and that his band of Foo Fighting brothers make up the nicest band in rock ‘n’ roll, there’s a very strong chance we’d say it regardless.
That’s because they are irritatingly pleasant blokes.
Between them, they clearly enjoy being in a rock band (which is refreshing in itself) and throw people out of their shows for being idiots and make spoof confessionals slagging off the Scissors Sisters (in a very fun way, naturally)… and now they’re giving a film away for free. That’s what nice people do. Not like us. We’d charge you for this rubbish if we could. Anyway, you can watch this film over the jump.
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Paul McCartney is all set to headline the opening ceremony of London 2012 Olympic Games alongside other British music stars who probably aren’t nearly as good. Unless they get Girls Aloud on which would be amazing.
The Beatle has told organisers of London 2012 he is “up for” playing at the opener, but which songs he will play is yet to be seen. Or organised at all probably. And Ringo Starr won’t be there, which is simultaneously a shame and of little consequence.
But which songs should Macca consider? Sure, he’s got a massive back catalogue to play with, but there’s some cheeky tracks that are less famous that he should really think about including.
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Once upon a time in the late 1980s a band called Nirvana was formed. Establishing themselves as part of the moody grunge scene in Seattle, they brought like minded depressives together to sing about the fishes not having any feelings, babies smelling like butter and deodorant.
But as fame, fortune and Courtney Love became too much for front man Kurt Cobain, he ended it all by blasting off his own face with a shotgun. Shame. Such a pretty face.
Dave Grohl was subsequently released from his background role as drummer and subsequently formed new band The Foo Fighters. Known in the industry as being a gentlemen of rock, always respectful, he lived up to his reputation following a recent gig at London’s Roundhouse as part of the iTunes festival.
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We despair about living in England. Out of every country in the world, we are the only nation that takes pride in former glories and absolutely nothing else. We’ve got nothing to look forward to. Nothing.
And when it comes to music, no band takes our regressive national pride to stalker-levels like The Beatles. It’s an actual fact that people in Liverpool aren’t christened in holy water. Instead, melted down Beatles records are used to make sure any young child gets a proper passage into the world we live in.
Even though the fab four haven’t made a record for decades (seriously! What’s George Harrison up to these days? Nothing. Lazy oaf!) it hasn’t stopped rock n’ roll granddad Paul McCartney from muscling in with his ideas on how an ageing band with no relevance on modern music can help creating an exciting opening Olympic ceremony. Where’s Mark Chapman when you need him?
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Don’t mess with a Beatle. Even the most irritating of Beatles will be favoured over other humans, simply because they’re responsible for those tunes you like. Unbelievably, Heather Mills swiped the crown of most loathed Beatlespouse from Yoko Ono, who seemed to have it in the bag for life.
See, while Yoko initially got heat because everyone was kinda racist toward her, she eventually settled into the world’s ire by simply being a pretentious artist (and no-one likes anyone from the artworld).
Then, along came Heather Mills and, thanks in part to having one leg which made for excruciatingly easy and tiresome jokes from the stand-up universe, became so hated that the National Grids managed to power our homes just on our collective irritation. Then she divorced daft, wacky ol’ Macca and the seething bubbled over into all-out hate. This ensured that any mishap that befell her would be met with titters.
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