Snobbery is an occupational hazard for any self-respecting music journalist. Take Madonna, now on her millionth comeback. Is she a shape-shifting cultural chameleon with her paws wrapped firmly around the pop zeitgeist? No. She's a dreary hack who hasn't produced a significant single since "Vogue", but is lucky enough to have her mediocre techno-pap lapped up by the credulous media.
As I ought to be recommending songs, not drowning in my own bitterness, allow me to suggest MIA for a genuinely refreshing and challenging female voice. She whips up a fun fusion of bhangra, hip-hop and pop, and received a Mercury nomination for her debut album. "Bucky Done Gun" from www.tunetribe.com is the place to start.
My music-snobometer has to be ready for anything. That meant preparing myself to loathe Arctic Monkeys even before I'd heard any of their songs. I was sceptical when I heard that they were four young northern lads with short cropped hair, guitars, and plenty of attitude - a familiar and familiarly disappointing confection. The NME's editor sealed their fate by arranging their name with the words "Oasis", "band", "biggest" and "since" into what passes for a sentence these days at that 72-page press release of a magazine.
The thing is, their songs are brilliant. They do boast an irrepressible youthful zeal and vigorous guitar riffs to boot. And yet, the way this cancerous industry works, I fear it's simply inevitable that they'll either buckle under the weight of the utterly irresponsible expectations placed upon them or - worse still - like Oasis did, will succeed for a while but end up with the remnants of their creativity stuck to a rolled-up £20 note.
Essentially, you have until about March to start hating them, so enjoy this while you can: "I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor" and "Fake Tales of San Francisco" (Tune Tribe again) are incredible songs to the last. Or maybe just until March.
