Mountaineering Melodies No. 9:
Could It Be Magic
TAC readers will not be familiar with Take That. This combo exists only in the netherword comprising the 3 hours of TV on a Saturday morning on channels 1 and 3. At the point in the week when TAC readers are picking through the mound of socks on the bothy floor and regretting the forgotten bog paper, the average 12-year-old has already learnt 24 new facts about Jason Donovan, munched through a packet of Pop Tarts and phoned in a question to Dannii Minogue. TT are the most recent addition to the lucrative NEW KIDS, MARKY MARK stable whose job is to repackage black music trends for white teenage consumption and endless appearances in said netherworld. Strangely, whereas the other two have gone for a bleached-and-scrubbed rap image, TT have picked up the mantle of the corporeally challenged Stylistics. 70's children will remember the lead singer out of the Stylistics, whose challenge to the gravitational curvature of spacetime was in inverse proportion to the manliness of his voice.
It's hard to believe that the lads go in for metaphor, but nor can one take the above lyrics literally. Obviously when one sounds like the Stylistics it will be necessary to up the macho content of the act, and most of the lads dutifully expose ripply torsos at all times. But arbitrarily dumping Lester Piggot and Nijinsky at ten-to-one onto the tourist route up Blaven is not very convincing. Even Hamish's eagle would be a more likely sight. And what is Antacid and Highland toffee magnate Rennie McOwan going to say about the erosion caused by the hooves. Then there's this mention of the sun. What hills have these boys been climbing where the sun shines? Sadly we have to conclude that these clean cut purveyors of dubious sexual arousal to the nation's daughters have opted for the oldest trick in the book and write their lyrics in a drug-crazed frenzy.
TAC 11 Index