Joe Kavanagh's Music News

Though it has lost some of its luster in recent times, the Mercury Music Prize remains big news on the right hand side of the Atlantic, and last week, English band, XX beat out names like Paul Weller and Dizzee Rascal to claim this year's award, with their eponymous debut album. The relatively unknown act appeared genuinely taken aback by the honor, while also expressing fear that their musical integrity might become compromised by their newfound fame. Speaking of the band's intention to fade into the background in order to record their sophomore album, as soon as their current tour ends, singer/guitarist Romy Croft claimed: "We never rush anything and definitely don't want to rush the second album. We've found that we can't write while we're on tour and we don't finish until mid October. Then next year we'll disappear and write quite a lot." If their career path emulates last year's winner, Speech Debelle, then Croft could have ended that sentence after the word 'disappear' because mercury poisoning probably could have done as much for her career as the Mercury Prize did...

Some of the more salacious headlines in last week's music news came in the form of excerpts from former model Jerry Hall's new tell-all autobiography, in which she recounts her life as the onetime wife of Mick Jagger. My Life In Pictures, details her on-again-off-again relationship with the notorious lothario, which lasted from the mid-70s, until their divorce in 1998, during which time the couple had three daughters together. Possibly the most damning line to come from Hall was her description of Jagger as a "dangerous sexual predator", who was unable to control himself around the fairer sex. While I'm definitely not beyond believing that Mick Jagger is - or was - the living embodiment of Viagra, Hall's indignation seems about 40 years too late, given that she poached the singer from his then wife, Bianca, while she herself was with Bryan Ferry. It seems to me that Jerry Hall might well have called this book: My Life With Mick Jagger Because It's The Only Part People Give A Hoot About...

Remaining with the Strolling Bones, the band is rumored to be taking to the road next year for their 50th anniversary tour. Sources close to the pensioners are quoted as saying that the jaunt will be the legendary act's last ever tour, but then again they would, wouldn't they, because that will be worth a few more bob in their pocket. The Stones would probably still tour, even if they were like those heads in jars on Futurama...

To some, he is a maligned and misunderstood soul, whose songs often articulate the feelings of society's oppressed, while others see him as more of a prissy auld moan whose music sounds like the soundtrack to a car driving over a cliff. Though he has denied it vehemently, Morrissey has also been labeled a racist in the past, a notion gained a little more traction last week, in the wake of an interview he gave with UK newspaper, The Observer, where he enquired of his interviewer: "Did you see the thing on the news about their treatment of animals and animal welfare? Absolutely horrific. You can't help but feel that the Chinese are a subspecies." The words have given succor to those detractors who maintain that the singer long had a jingoistic lilt, having once derided the fact that the UK has been "flooded" by immigrants, despite the fact that he is the son of Irish immigrants. The singer has vehemently denied all accusations of promoting racism, but referring to an entire race as a "subspecies" - even in jest - is troubling at the very best. In the words of Love Music Hate Racism spokesperson, Martin Smith: "It really is just crude racism. When you start using language like subspecies, you are entering into dark and murky water." The singer issued his own rebuttal later in the week, declaring: "If anyone has seen the horrific and unwatchable footage of the Chinese cat and dog trade - animals skinned alive - then they could not possibly argue in favor of China as a caring nation. There are no animal protection laws in China and this results in the worst animal abuse and cruelty on the planet. It is indefensible." I would consider myself as an animal lover, but with all the cruelty visited upon humans in this world, I think that there are a few other life forms ahead of the skinned cats and dogs on my list of concerns. Additionally, while I find it hard to reconcile a sensitive soul such as Morrissey with racism, I'm also of the belief that if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and looks like a duck, it's probably a duck...

While the jury remains out on whether Nadine Coyle's move to the USA was a good idea career-wise, it seems that her father's livelihood as a bar proprietor may have been brought to a screeching halt, as authorities in California are seeking over $40,000 in back taxes from Niall Coyle from his time as owner of Nadine's Irish Mist, in Sunset Beach, Los Angeles. A spokesperson from the local government was quoted as saying: "Mr. Coyle has the option to make payment in installments if he cannot pay the amount in full straight away. But this is a significant amount of money and he should take action to start paying it off now before he falls further behind and gets into serious trouble." Mercy, there's more than a little menace in that sentence and if that official ever gets laid off by Orange County, I'm pretty sure that he could find work with the mob. Despite her father's financial difficulty, Nadine Coyle appears to be fiscally sound for the moment, with word emerging last week that the Derry singer recently started her own label, in order to put out her upcoming debut solo album. The former Girls Aloud member was quoted as saying of her new move: "I think we have learned that the traditional model for selling an album isn't the only way of doing things. To be able to create an album where you are in complete control of your own work is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for an artist." Listen, I could knock out an album on my Mac this weekend and retain full control over every little piece of it; it doesn't mean that it would be any good. Plus, I wouldn't have to spend a fortune to find out that it's bloody hopeless. Ah well, if it fails, at least she'll have the bar to fall back - oh, right, I almost forgot...

I read where Makeda Marley - youngest daughter of the late-great Bob Marley - pleaded guilty to growing marijuana last week, stemming from an incident where cops were called to her Pennsylvania home in 2008 in connection with a domestic dispute, only to discover several plants growing in the house. There's a huge surprise, eh? Who would have thought that one of Bob Marley's children would be smoking marijuana? Talk about shooting fish in a barrel. You know, I'll bet that cops could raid every one of his children's homes tonight and odds are pretty good that they'd find enough weed to keep Cypress Hill on tour for a month. Being Bob Marley's kid alone would most likely take care of the matter of probably cause...

I also read last week where Phil Collins is now forced to attach his drumsticks to his hands with Scotch tape when he is performing live, due to an injury he incurred while on tour with Genesis. I don't quite understand, did the injury leave him like some kind of muppet? Or more of a muppet, I should say. Speaking to the Daily Star, Collins claimed: "It's the only way I can play. It wasn't particularly comfortable but I managed to get the right noise and the performance I wanted." I could think of a few other uses for Phil Collins and Scotch tape but some of them would probably result in me serving some hard time. The Another Day In Paradise singer also revealed last week that he is quite happy with the current living arrangement he enjoys with girlfriend Dana Tyler, whereby both live separately, saying: "I like the peace and quiet. Don't get me wrong, Dana and I get on incredibly well and really enjoy seeing one another. All the same, in this phase of my life, I feel best when I'm alone." I could be wrong but that sounds to me like neither one of them can stick each other enough to move in together...

While we are on the subject of relationships between famous people and their significant others, I read a rather curious quote by French synthesizer king Jean Michel Jarre last week. I should probably preface this by revealing that Jarre was married to English actress, Charlotte Rampling from 1976 until 1998, though he is currently with French actress Anne Parillaud. Anyway, Jarre was giving his opinion on romance when he informed UK newspaper the Evening Standard: "There is that famous image of the French woman, sitting in her car, putting on her lipstick in the mirror. French women are arrogant. In my opinion, British women are more romantic than French ones... They are far less knowing, and more romantic. It's ridiculous to make generalizations, but it's fun. I understand more when I travel why people believe that French people are arrogant." Now, despite years of attempting to understand the fairer sex, I readily confess that I know about as much about the workings of women as I do about Higgs Boson elementary particles. Having said that, I'm pretty certain that Jean Michel Jarre might want to bring the biggest bunch of flowers known to humanity the next time he is meeting up with Anne Parillaud. He also might want to get CCTV cameras installed outside his French homes too...

It is with some sadness that I announce this as my last column for the Irish Examiner USA, having decided to move on to other things. To be perfectly honest, while I've enjoyed writing all of these little snippets of music news - and I hope at least a few of you have enjoyed them - there are times that I feel like I'm an accessory to the increasing infatuation with celebritydom, which sees people more interested in whether or not Britney Spears is wearing any underwear rather than showing an interest in real, important issues that actually matter. Surely the time spent trawling through newspapers and magazines for insidious insights into the lives of people we'll never know could be spent more wisely by learning a new language, finding out who William Wilberforce was, discovering the Sumerians, or reading Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee. It's just a thought, and sorry to get all preachy like that. Finally, there's just enough time to climb down off my high horse and show you that that this column does indeed value its ability to descend into barely disguised vulgarity in the name of humor. It hasn't got a jot to do with music but here's a joke to sign off with. A man walks into a podiatrist and after settling in, the doctor smiles and asks him: "Alright sir, what seems to be the problem?" The patient proceeds to stand up and take his extremely large johnson out before placing it on the doctor's table. Horrified, the podiatrist turns to the man and with genuine alarm in his voice, says: "But that's not a foot", to which his smiling patient replies: "I know, but it's a good eleven inches." ... Writing for 12 years and it all boils down to a johnson joke. Be safe and thanks for having me...