The Monday Meh! Is a section where we look at a critically acclaimed artist who is, in fact, average. You may have noticed that we designated this section a specific day of the week. We aren’t going to lie, alliteration played a pretty big role in the scheduling, but still, the Monday Meh! it was and the Monday Meh! is what you were entitled to expect. If you are experiencing a sense of hurt right now akin to finding out your parents lied to you about Spot going to live on a farm, we understand.
We know it isn’t much, but we proffer today’s offering – hastily, but honestly, re-titled as the Tuesday Meh! – by way of apology. And to kick it off, we focus on someone who has recently started to enjoy the same success at a critical level as he has commercially. Yes, the oldest man in the chip shop, its Paisley’s own Paolo Nutini.
First up, we should really offer some context. Paolo comes from Paisley, a large town a few miles from Glasgow which is famous for violent crime, non-violent crime and junkies. Paisley itself isn’t that ghastly, but with a population 3 parts scum to 1 part terrified decent people, its town centre is filled with questionable sorts going about their daily business of shoplifting, public drunkenness and weeping. So, in mitigation, the crooner’s booze-soaked songs come from the heart. It’s easily conceivable that Paolo’s lived in voice comes from a constant diet of Kensitas Club and Skol since infant school.
When he first came to the public’s attention, he was actually all right. Back at the time, he eschewed sounding like a pissed pensioner and preferred to actually sing and that. And he had a decent voice to go with a few decent songs. Well, ‘Jenny Don’t Be Hasty’ at any rate. But this period of relative inoffensiveness was to come to a sudden end, like noughties prosperity or Michael Jackson.
The first few rambling performances were the warning signal that a different path was being trodden. Paolo seemed determined to sing like the guy who comes to collect the empties in old men’s pubs. He began to sound like he had ill-fitting false teeth, which meant his previously decent delivery now resembled the death rattle of Steptoe. As he did this, idiots flocked to him. He was now an arena-level artist.
The ELM team saw him at Connect last year and genuinely thought the first song was a joke, that he was having a laugh and would soon start singing properly. We were wrong.
He has recently released a new album called ‘Sunny Side Up’, which is rubbish – sub- van Morrison Celtic soul clunkers as performed by an octogenarian kettle – and his voice is now such an act of comedy that even Terry Wogan has taken to taking the piss out of him. Still, it’s unlikely Paolo gives a monkeys. He continues to sell records and tickets, and is making enough money to suggest he’ll be well into his 30’s before he claims his birthright and joins the Boots in Paisley methadone queue.
Filed under: General Stuff Tagged: | arseholes, drunks, gigs, Glasgow, paisley, paolo nutini, people who sing like their grandads but badly, scottish music, sunny side up
He’s a fuckwit. I detest him. And what’s all that pish about playing with folk musicians? They must be pissing themselves onstage.
Sounds like he’s drunk and gargling with chip shop grease. Awful.
He's a fuckwit. I detest him. And what's all that pish about playing with folk musicians? They must be pissing themselves onstage.; He's a fuckwit. I detest him. And what's all that pish about playing with folk musicians? They must be pissing themselves onstage.;;
Die, die, die………………please.
I’ll bet he’s got a picture of Mussolini on his living room wall too.