They were a three-piece pop group whose platinum-selling albums put a new spin on post-millennial British pop. True, the Island group never quite managed to crack the US market, but to their UK fans, the trio's massive string of hits was quite enough to be getting on with, thank you very much. And better still, they pulled it all off without the crutch of a reality show.
Still, enough about Busted, because today's Sugababes news is far more exciting: founding member Keisha Buchanan has been unceremoniously booted out of the lineup. Her place has been taken by this year's Eurovision entrant Jade Ewen who, until recently, was looking at a solo career with Polydor (in fact, her rather good launch single My Man was only released yesterday). Buchanan, meanwhile, remains signed to Island.
This is all great news for the Statlers and Waldorfs of the pop commentary world – those self-appointed "pop experts" who snootily pass judgment on the comings and goings of mainstream pop without ever dirtying their ears by actually listening to the stuff. They've been hooting on about the band's lineup changes since Heidi Range first joined the band, replacing Siobhan Donaghy, at the start of the decade. But as long as one member of the original team remained, there was something brilliant about the Sugababes. Even when Mutya Buena left, taking her phenomenal vocals with her, the Sugababes still made sense.
Today, of course, they make no sense at all. It is one lineup change too many, and moves the band from a clever shape-shifting pop force into a total laughing stock. There are questions that need answers, and the answers will no doubt come thick and fast when Buchanan takes to promoting her solo material. What role, for example, did the band's management and record label play in these decisions? Was there any truth that Amelle Berrabah was due for the boot? And did Buchanan's own attempts to eject a member backfire catastrophically, leading to a coup? And what of the rather odd arrival of Ewen, whose former label, Polydor, paid for her to record an entire album and then paid even more to start marketing it?
That's all some way off. In the more immediate future expect some undignified scenes over the next few months, during which Range, Berrabah and Ewen (let's not call them Sugababes) traipse around the country attempting to flog a hastily re-recorded version of Sweet 7, the album due for release on 23 November.
It is a rather miserable, undignified end to a band who fell together at school, made their name with a sophisticated pop sound and achieved what they did with a rare class. Pop which is invented in order to be a brand is often unpleasant. But Sugababes made pop whose values and attitudes were strong enough to inadvertently create a brand. Theirs was smart, British, soulful pop, occasionally arty but always melodic, lush and a cut above most of the rest.
However, their last single, Get Sexy, pushed the band in a different direction: a soul-free, sex-led, moronically-lyriced attempt to chase an American electronic R&B sound which sounded brilliant, but jettisoned any semblance of what made many fall in love with the band.
Today the Sugababes don't exist as a band, and after Get Sexy they don't really exist as a sound either. If this new girl group before us today is to have any future at all, and Ewen, Berrabah and Range do actually make a great three-piece, it must find a new name. Sugababes died when Buchanan left.
"There is no greater importance in all the world like knowing you are right and that the wave of the world is wrong, yet the wave crashes upon you."
Astounding film. I am completely amazed by what Hitchcock did. I'm not a film student, and I would never profess to be, but when i trigger than a director has a specific style and way of working that speaks to me, or affects me, if makes me want to know more about why things are done the way they are, or how directing in such a way works.
I don't usually get taken in by old films, but whenever I sit down to watch a Hitchcock film I feel such a sense of romanticism - be it the orchestral opening credits, and then splashes of strings interspersed throughout to accent especially emotional moments, or the dull, muffled way the speech is recorded. I love being taken back.
Vertigo is brilliantly executed. I love the on-location shots, the way Hitchcock frames everything so the use of height is a massive focus. Gradiose structure, cloudless distant skies and appartments in high-rises all add to the tone of distance, also giving the viewer an inadvertent sense of vertigo themselves.
Hitchcock does wonderful things with relationships, and Vertigo is no exception.
Novak is spellbinding as an almost ghost-like (funny, given the conclusion!) suicidal femme fatale, who excuses her actions by being 'overtaken' by a woman wanting to kill herself. The way the viewer sizes this up is ultimately how romantically linked to the film they are - her character's demise is undoubtedly tragic due to the love affair, but in reality she is totally insane, and Stewart is more of a fool in the first place for falling for her.
While Novak's suicide is easily the most tense event of the film, the truly scary realisation comes with the conclusion, as Barbara Bel Geddes is slowly transformed into the character Stewart wants her to be. His morbid fascination with height, death, and Novak's suicide leads him to live out the 'one final thing I have to do. Then I'll be free of the past.'
While Bel Geddes is clearly not Novak in any way, this makes her transformation even more shocking. When Stewart propositions her 'I need you to be Madeleine for a while. Then we'll both be free', you feel shocked for an instant that she is even considering going along with it, even for the good of Stewart's own sanity. How has a strong woman like herself got caught up in such an insane situation, in a love affair that doesn't even involve her? She is forced to play Stewart's insane twisted game, to play a part she has no idea how to play. Her naieve lies fuel his insanity, in turn sealing her own fate.
Herein lies the true tragedy; a forced love, a forced identity, and eventually a forced suicide.
If you can summon the strength,
tow me
I can't hold down the urgency
You've got to make your decent slowly
And oil up those sticky keys
Coax me out, my love
And have a spin of my propeller
It's a necessary evil
No cause for emergency
Borrow the beak of a bald eagle
Oh, momentary synergy
My propeller won't spin and I can't get it started on my own
When are you arriving?
My propeller
The release of this came as a total surprise to me.
In fact, the realisation came at Reading while I was watching them, and my eyes strayed to the massive poster advertising it beside the stage.
While I still think of myself as a devoted Brand New fan, I am clearly not as much of an avid one as I thought. But to be honest, I would'nt have it any other way, as then the true force of this album would'nt have hit me due to obvious early leaks I would have downloaded, or anticipated how I wanted it to sound.
Now it is here, I can just accept it for what it is - a brilliantly sad story about what Brand New are best at - loss and heartbreak.
I love the old mono-radio theme that runs throughout the album, I think it emphasises the romanticism of the lyrics even more so, playing on the image of an old TCM black and white movie before slashing it up with static, squealing guitar.
Also very much a fan of the interspliced country music references in some songs, again giving the album another layer to experiment with, yet not at all using too much of everything so much to muddle the general direction.
As always, the slows are the best, as they are the best opportunities to showcase Jesse Lacey's genius lyrical ability. Some truly heartbreaking stuff, along with a surprising return to the more emo-orientated one-liners of the first 2 albums. Not sure if this is especially helpful for the overall progression of a brilliant band, but good for a smile on the first couple of listens at any rate.
