I’ll tell you a secret. I love music. There are a certain number of bands I hold in high regard above all others; they are, if you like, a piece of my heart. The last few years have seen a paradigm shift in what makes music ‘mainstream’, and by mainstream, I mean more accessible for the swathes of the everyday men and women to hear without really going out of their way to do so. I am all in favour of leading people down new musical avenues and helping them discover their next favourite band, album or song, but there are ways and means, people. Ways and means.
What’s driven me to write this post is the abuse (yes, abuse) of a cluster of bands and artists by broad and bland advertising. Too often have some of my favourite songs (here we go), beautiful songs with depth, meaning and emotion, been used as a makeshift backbone for a programme that’s more beige than Michael Portillo. If I have to hear another Sigur Ros or XX song play softly behind an advert for a programme about disfigured genitals, the trials and tribulations of obesity, or, god help me here, Made In Chelsea, it will be too soon.