A friend once knew a ‘Page 3 Stunner’ type who, as these people are wont to do, wanted to bag herself a rich husband and would therefore pretty much bang anybody famous with some coin to flash around. One such experience led to her spending the night with Simply Red’s Mick Hucknall. The night was somewhat spoiled, she thought, by Mick playing his own records and constantly stopping during the unpleasantness to say ‘listen to this bit; it’s really good’.
There’s a lot of reasons to hate Mick Hucknall; him, the fact that he exists, his music, the fact he’s a cunt, those sort of things. But he’s really invited you to do so now he’s had a makeover. Yes, you read that right; a makeover. Mick has, Prince-like, emerged from a creative cocoon as a beautiful butterfly ready to regale us with sumptuous music and re-define rock. Except he hasn’t, obviously. He’s dropped his first name and now wants to be known, Morrisseyesquely, as ‘Hucknall’. Fine by me. He’s also back with a cynical, kitchen-sink ersatz soul song called ‘Poverty’ which has clearly been inspired by Amy Winehouse’s success and couldn’t be more of a contrived rip-off if it had it tattooed across it’s wan, white soulless arsecheeks. It’s also utterly appalling to hear a spoiled wine-bar singer trying to go all bluesy and sing about he’s got nothing. Add to that the lyrics would shame a Blue Peter competition to have the nation’s six-year-olds write a blues lament, and boy, do we have a stinker.
So, Hucknall it is. But some things never change, and the quality of the music never will. I’d rather shear off my piece of pork with a small vegetable knife than listen to this incompetent. He can’t even rip-off right!