Cult gatherings, ceremonial processions, judgement by an elite council, and golden voodoo figurines: all part of a weird annual ritual of superhumans known as the Oscars. Its celebrity attendees are our civilisations crème de la crème, often leaving us, the common grey talentless masses, feeling a tad insignificant for our pathetic skills (also responsible for spawning the televised evil that is gladiatorial talent competitions). Not content with excelling only in one field, or fledging in their current careers, these celebrities often turn to music. Credit where it’s due, it often works as with child-actor-turned-rapper Drake, or twee folk heartthrob Zooey Deshemel and Fresh Prince-era Will Smith (and now he’s breeding out a new generation of hit making Smiths). Record companies can’t resist the allure of a big name music career gamble, and often the most intolerable musical abortions are allowed to live purely because on the basis of previous talent or talentless notoriety.
Action Man Turned Musician Capable of Emotions
Even the hardest men have feelings. Desperate to expose these often repressed emotions from smashing shit up in movies, they turn to music careers. Killing terrorists for a day job and singing about the power of love after work. Bruce Willis, whose on-screen encounters with women are limited to throwing them down elevator shafts, also enjoys making passionate yet public love “Underneath the Boardwalk” (somehow The Temptations where convinced into this rendition). Even someone as fierce as Russell Crowe, with such masculine on-screen roles as a gladiator and tight-wearing outlaw, sounds more like a masturbator than commander in sissy lets-stay-friends ballad “Never Be Alone Again”. Worst yet are action flick legends like Steven Seagal, a man who has hands-on murdered more people in his films than cancer. Yet he is also capable of releasing an anti-war reggae abomination in which he discourages violence while singing in a faux-Jamaican accent – enticement enough for a musical Jihad.
See also: Arnold Schwarzenegger kraut-rock project.
Female Socialite Tries to Salvage Pointless Existence with Music Career
This category makes me so angry. Surviving as a Z-list celebrity is a hard life, practically akin to poverty: reduced to plastering your name on every possible product, bottling your own horrible scent and even having to run auditions on national TV for the small comfort of a friend.
Katie Price, ex-tabloid baps gremlin, in the down time between autobiographies released “Free To Love Again”, a song so utterly repellent that I only could survive 30 seconds of it – after the single failing to chart hopefully Price will never be free to make music again. Stateside counterpart, Paris Hilton, went one step further and released a whole album, originally entitled Paris. Featuring unintentionally hilarious tracks names (“Screwed”) and inexplicable non-sequiturs like “The Stars Are Blind”. Banksy even saw fit to replace 500 copies of the album with a version that had tracks names like “Why A I Famous?” and a topless picture of Paris with her head replaced by a dog. Nobody seemed to realise the difference, a total of seven copies were returned.
See also: Peaches, debut album from Peaches Geldof.
Privileged White Actors Try Make Hip Hop
A rags-to-riches personal story isn’t compulsory for a hip hop star, but it certainly helps for writing material and credibility. No one wants to hear about the life and times of an average white middle-class English Literature undergrad, that shit is exclusively limited to chillwave.
Fortunately, Chet Haze (son of Tom Hanks) is there to fill that gap: finally hip hop that students can all relate to. Haze’s personal mantra, “hittin’ blunts after hittin’ books”, touches on all the important student concerns: mainly weed, weed and college (in that order). Despite being in same class of lyrical genius as Soulja Boy and Tinie Tempah, Chester Hanks has been crucified by nearly everyone just for being a rich kid. Instead of being all po-faced about his undeniable wealth, Hanks Jr should have played it braggadocio, by now he’d be soundtracking Jack Wills shops up and down the country. His tame rebuttal: “Hear the haters talk, but you know that they be losin’/I’m trying to walk the walk for the major of my choosin’.” Well gotta pay your student debt somehow, right.
See also: Justin Bieber‘s 2018 rap debut, Get Rich or Bie Trying.
Fictional Indie Twee Band Ride Success of Movie
This isn’t so much a category as an individual: overgrown boy-embryo Michael Cera. But it’s not so much his awkward cyoot indie-cherubim schtick that 15 year old girls dream of being impregnated by. Which, by the way, is the plot of an unintentionally disturbing fake documentary in which some Asian teenager on a quest for love (to lose her virginity) finds the holy grail by “accidentally” meeting Cera. More painful yet are the twee sing-alongs and awful pun bands that always accompany Cera’s roles. Whether it’s the vomit inducing utopian ending of Juno, where the outcome of teen pregnancy is a rosy acoustic rendition of Mouldy Peaches’ “Anyone Else But You” – a bit like having a house band on Jeremy Kyle. Or Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist, a movie devised for the sole purpose of promoting its own soundtrack, which features Cera playing bass in an all gay twee-rock band called The Jerk-offs – apparently as its undecided only straight member. You might be comforted in the knowledge that these bands only exist within film (not dissing gay pop bands), well unfortunately awful named Sex Bob-bomb made the leap from Scott Pilgrim Vs The World to physical album form. Luckily for Cera, with the rise of Justin Bieber, roles involving him plucking bass while gormless staring at females have probably been made redundant.
See also: Michael Cera.
Musical Films and “Of course I can sing as well as I act.”
Even good actors have their price, and when that price happens to be for a role requiring singing, you can afford to learn. Hilariously miscast Pierce Brosnan traded in his acting career and soul for such a part in 2009’s musical torture porn Mamma Mia! Critics might have shredded him apart for it, but to me Brosnan deserves recognition for trolling one of the most awful movies of all time. Interviewed about the film, Brosnan admitted he’d prepared once by “singing karaoke”, described his own performance as “dreadful” and his reasoning for accepting the role as an excuse to take a paid holiday in Greece. Who can argue with that? There are worst things you can do on camera for a free holiday, especially than ruining a hit film.
See also: Nouse’s own Adam Bychawski, on late night webcam shows.