"the one who put the Brit in celebrity..."
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Bots abed, filthy rain swirling about outside, lamps on, dog snoring. I should be ironing, but I paid someone else to do it instead. I should also be reading the whopping stack of Sunday papers that a forest died for, but I am putting them out for the binmen tomorrow with nary a prick of conscience because I'm doing something so much more enjoyable, and all by accident. I am listening to Robbie Williams' first live UK performance in over three years at the Roundhouse in Camden, part of the BBC Electric Proms series and blow me, he's proper back. You can listen again here if you fancy.
They've been playing 'Bodies,' the new single everywhere since he performed (wild-eyed, sweating and cokey-shakey. Get a grip.) on X-Factor last weekend. Is it just me, or are his lyrics cool, witty and deep at once? I would take Escapology to a desert island and take a long, long time to tire of it.
Los Angeles poolside posturing and alien obsessions aside; we all have our moments. However, the guy can write a snortingly funny lyric then bring you up short with a devastating observation on vacuous celeb culture the next line.
Am so ridiculously pleased that there's another album out, that I suspect I might have become a massive fan while he was away being mental. No cynical Take-That-bandwagon jokes from you at the back - let me enjoy this moment.
What does worry me though, is the picture above makes him look like the spit of a shameful crush I had at eight years old and have only ever confessed once before. Separated at birth - Robbie and Norman Wisdom?