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Steve Regan is a writer who lives in New Brighton. He’s a performance poet and a rebel. He drinks in a pub he calls Hell’s Waiting Room and a late bar known as The Lost Weekend. Steve has an unusual take on modern life – as you’ll discover …

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George Michael: Freedom’s bleats have got no rhythm

June 12, 2007 6:12 PM | 

AS I was saying in the previous posting about John Lennon’s 'Imagine', the words of immensely popular songs are often of very poor quality when seen written down.
That is because songs are sonic entities – i.e. more than just words. They have melody, rhythm and often pack an emotional punch carried in the voice of the singer rather than by the lyric itself.
The subject of rubbishy song lyrics came into my head again last weekend as I watched the build-up to the concert given by George Michael at the new Wembley Stadium.
But by the time I’d endured Chris Evans’ lousy, suck-up of an ‘interview’ with the singer on C4, I’d had enough. I was too bored to be bothered watching the gig itself.
The only bit I saw / heard was George’s rendition of his song ‘Freedom’ or ‘Freedom 90’ to give it what I think is the correct title.

He sings it with passion, but, once again, the lyrics are so unimaginative, so lacking in poetry and philosophical substance.
I mean, you do a song on about ‘freedom’ (a truly great subject, having been discussed by poets and philosophers through the ages), and yet what exactly does George sing about?
Well apparently, the ‘freedom’ in his song is about having ‘every big shot good-time band on the run boy’. Hmmmm...
Other lines from ‘Freedom 90’ include: ‘But when you shake your ass / they notice fast’. And the equally naff: ‘When I knew which side my bread was buttered / I took the knife as well.’
All a bit pathetic, really.
Though I will admit that George Michael is a good singer, his political grand-standing (particularly on the subject of gay sexuality) and his relentless name-calling of Bush, and ‘poodle’ Blair and the media is so very tedious.
It’s not as if he has earned the moral high ground to justify all his preaching. The day before the gig we had images of George, accompanied by his self-pitying bleating, when he was sentenced to community service for driving while unfit.
I don’t know if George managed to fill the new Wembley. He’s hardly hip and trendy anymore, what with all those appearances on pensioners’ telly show, Parky.
I read that 75, 000 attended the gig last Saturday, but isn’t the stadium supposed to hold 90,000? As the Americans say, do the math.
Anyway, the concert failed to produce the promised 'very special guest'. There weren’t even dancers. You’d think he could have made the effort.
Of course, maybe he was preoccupied by his attempts to buy the latest gimmicky art project from Britart plonker Damien Hirst, a diamond-encrusted skull.
The skull will cost George and his partner Kenny Goss £50 million or so – a bit of loose change to them, I guess.
But it was not a done deal at the time of writing this. They might face competition to buy the blingy horror ... especially now that so many Premiership stars are earning as much as rock stars and have equally flamboyant tastes in, ahem, ‘art’.
For instance, I can quite image the skull finding a home on the sideboard at the Formby des. res. of Steven Gerrard and Alex Curran.
And Alex will have a bit more time to dust it - now she’s not going out partying quite as much.

Comments (5)

ricky wrote...

Steve, I'm afraid that poor old Georgie's problem is that he's a candy floss popster who fell into the age old trap (well, age old since the late 1960s that is) of taking himself too seriously. He should have hung up his boots 20 years ago when he finished with Wham and gone behind the scenes to be a songwriter and producer. Instead a la Bono/Sting - and of course John Lennon - he started to think that he was a 'serious artist' and, as a result became boringingly self indulgent and lost any sense of what a happy, throw- away and essentially trivial thing pop music should be. Catchy or haunting pop songs can be every bit as memorable as great classical themes. I bet that very few of Georgie's female fans from the mid 80s give a monkeys about his self indulgent ramblings but still get a tear in their eye when they hear some Wham song they danced to back then.
*** REGAN WRITES: Well analysed, Ricky, How come two hip young gunslinging rawk! journalists like us, ended up working on the Methodist Recorder?! STEVE.

Posted by: ricky  | June 14, 2007 9:53 AM

Lord Vino du Matin wrote...

Oi wors in Norridge on Toosday when that Geoorge Mikal play Carroo Rood. You shoud ha sin the loocal noos reports. Is he a bit of a loik nancy, bor?
*** REGAN REPLIES: Norfolk dialect AND provincial attitudes - how marvellous to encounter those again - NOT! I remember when I used to live in Norwich, my girlfriend at the time, Miss "Treacle" Tartt, used to lurrve George Michael.

Posted by: Lord Vino du Matin  | June 14, 2007 11:11 AM

Lord Vino du Matin wrote...

Yoo carlin Narfuk provincyal? Thas a foin place. Yoo furrin or sommot, bor?
*** REGAN REPLIES: Furrin'? Moi? Bloody cheek. I am the 13th Earl of Wigan.

Posted by: Lord Vino du Matin  | June 14, 2007 12:54 PM

Lord Vino du Matin wrote...

That explains a lot....

Posted by: Lord Vino du Matin  | June 14, 2007 3:56 PM

Lord Vino du Matin wrote...

....about Wigan.

Posted by: Lord Vino du Matin  | June 21, 2007 10:27 AM

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