Post by The Curmudgeon on Mar 26, 2009 3:01:09 GMT 2
Aw, you shouldn't have, Ronan. Really.
Sigh. We were doing SO well, us Brits, when it came to number one records in the UK. Since the start of the year, we've had the likes of Metallica, U2, Kings of Leon, the Prodigy, Lily Allen and Bruce Springsteen; all records and artists that I have no problem seeing at the top of the tree.
But it could never last, and leave it to Mother's Day to ruin it all, when good taste and good records are replaced by Now That's What I Call Love vol 77 and Chick Flicks Greatest Hits. When Father's Day comes around, shops are filled with records from Led Zeppelin, The Who, Neil Young, Neil Diamond and Pink Floyd. Women get boybands, ballad compilations and Celine Dion. Talk about being short-changed.
Anyway, breaking the decent number one album run is Ronan Keating, AKA the Most Boring Man Ever, releasing quite possibly the Most Boring Album Ever. I mean, God, just look at the front cover - even HE looks fed-up.
So, "Songs For My Mother" (released for Mother's Day, of course) is an album dedicated to Ronan's late mother, and a collection of songs he remembers his mother listening to when he was a child. A nice idea - but, hmmm. Hang on. "I Believe I Can Fly" from 1996? And Dylan's "Make You Feel My Love" from 1997? Wasn't Ronan already grown up and touring the world with super-suck boyband Boyzone by then? Indeed he was.
What this record is, in real life, is a beyond cynical attempt to cash in on Mother's Day with a tepid interpretation of songs covered before by the likes of mega-sellers like Billy Joel and Garth Brooks (Dylan's track, it's sparse, delicate delivery totally lost on Keating) and unoriginal, tired song choices like Time After Time, and does anyone, anywhere, really need another version of Suspicious Minds? Add in the obligatory "hey, I'm Irish, remember?" cover of Carrickfergus and a re-recording of one of his own songs from two albums ago (wow, you're spoiling us, Ronan) and you have an album that not only makes you pine for some of the original songs, it also makes you gag at this records crass exploitation disguised as sentiment.
Because whilst the blurb would have you believe it's Ronan's touching "gift" to his dead mother, it's actually a greedy, manipulative, soul-less record, bereft of any real thought or imagination and produced and recorded like it should be playing in the background of a hotel elevator - going straight to Hell.
An album or song dedicated to the memory of anyone, done well, can be a touching, evocative listening experience. This is supermarket muzak with a built in guilt trip. So, take note; on Mother's Day, if you actually bought this record for YOUR mother, she shouldn't thank you. She should certainly not open and listen to it.
She should have had you aborted.
