3 October 1991
Philosophical question: do you still listen to The Smiths? I must admit that ever since their singer started positioning himself to the right of Enoch Powell I’ve been unenthused about the prospect of hearing his voice. Similarly, Covid-19 public health measures brought out the unsavoury performative ranter in heretofore much-respected figures. For instance, I haven’t given Veedon Fleece a spin since pre-pandemic times; if Van Morrison had been back on the streets of Arklow at any time in 2021 it’d be with a megaphone to shout at elderly shoppers that Stephen Donnelly Is Dangerous.
Not listening to Right Said Fred has been less of a wrench. That the two Fairbrasses have turned into the worse sort of privileged, entitled, conspiracy-theorising, attention-seeking eejits takes a little of the fun out of ‘I’m Too Sexy’. I suppose their song about egomaniacal posers should have warned us. It’s a slight pity, as the meme of being too sexy for something had been a useful addition to our pop culture and dare I say our civilisation. Nothing so essential or worthwhile about the rest of this record: it’s just mobile-disco beats, a few house-inflected effects, and Richard Fairbrass’s vocal fry. We can file ‘I’m Too Sexy’ away as a frivolous novelty – along with the group, then and now.
