Mamma Mia, here we go again

latex catsuit

There were good bits, there was pure cheese and there were latex catsuits.Prepare for the celebrations of Abba, 25 years on, by buying earplugs, says ZOE WILLIAMS
 YOU have to close your eyes and picture this properly to get its full nauseating effect. The high point of the Brit Awards next week will be Cleopatra, Tina Cousins, B*Witched, Billie and Steps performing together.
 Before you even hear what they're doing, the image alone is chilling, conjuring up as it does well over a football team of sugary, schmaltzy, otiose fillies, seeking between them to redefine pop culture as light entertainment, brainwashing the nation's youth and taking over the world with their hot-pant 'n' half-baked live-life-to-the-full agenda.
 Then factor in their purpose: to pay tribute to Abba by performing a medley of their greatest hits. Now, whose idea was this? When did the meeting take place where someone actually said "I know! We're holding a large celebration of all that is positive and interesting in British music, along with intermittent praise for innovative Johnny Foreigner.
 Let's get a bunch of twinks to sing a medley of all the rubbishy numbers from Sweden's first bubblegum churners."
 Who agreed to this? Why wasn't the proponent taken outside and smacked really hard in the face with a plank?
 Okay, so Abba have hit their jubilee year without making a disgrace of themselves by trying to stage a comeback or set up a donkey sanctuary, but they really don't deserve this kind of attention. Nor do they deserve to be held up as ambassadors for Sweden (one of the many tribute outfits, Arrival, recently played Hanoi to celebrate 30 harmonious years of peaceful Swedish-Vietnamese relations - now what was that about?). In truth, they do deserve to have a musical made about them (Mamma Mia, opening in London in April) because this might finally persuade everybody that they've reached the summit of naff, but it doesn't deserve an audience. Among the many others undeserving of an audience are Bjorn the sound of choice for the tragic physics dullards who only feel safe when they're singing along to The Winner Takes It All. It belongs in the box marked "bad Seventies things that are best forgotten".
 There's nothing anyone can do about the cover bands there will always be people prepared to make a career out of wishing they were someone else.
 However, you can stop the music industry indulging this nonsense when it owes its continuing existence to the people who don't hide behind the familiar and are actually prepared to listen to new stuff.
 Make your protest. Write to your MP. Actually, don't, Again, Fabba and, most of all, Steps, whose crime is the greatest for not even admitting that they're just another cheese-packed cover band.
 Nobody's denying that Abba could turn out a good line in tunes, harmonies and sunny bits. In the olden days, they delivered certain lines (notably, "Chicken tikka, tell me what's wrong" - "Like, where do I start? I always fancied myself as more of a Jal-frezi") that are unmatched in modern culture.
 But it's all gone too far. This is music for students, geeks and those who, not entirely comfortable with their brain cells, think poppers are a good idea. It's the sound of choice for the tragic physics dullards who only feel safe when they're singing along to The Winner Takes It All. It belongs in the box marked "bad Seventies things that are best forgotten".
 There's nothing anyone can do about the cover bands there will always be people prepared to make a career out of wishing they were someone else.
 However, you can stop the music industry indulging this nonsense when it owes its continuing existence to the people who don't hide behind the familiar and are actually prepared to listen to new stuff.
 Make your protest. Write to your MP. Actually, don't, since most MPs probably were those very physics dullards once upon a time.