19 August 2004
Seeing the world from the top of the singles charts really puts things into perspective. In narrow terms of number ones, 2004 has been a rotten, demoralising year for pop music, pop culture, and me. At the time I just ignored them—luckily I had album reviews of landfill indie to grind out—but these days I’m contractually obligated to ’00s Irish number ones only. So, you get my relief that along with the summer-holiday Euro-dance of ‘Dragostea Din Tei’ we also have the primary-coloured simplicity of Natasha Bedingfield’s ‘These Words’. I needed this break.
Sure, ‘These Words’ is white-bread R&B-pop for Grazia readers. Also, writing a song about having trouble writing a song is hackneyed stuff from the get-go. But the no toxicity! The breezy, catchy chorus! The Sunny Delight-flavoured poptimism of the Natasha Bedingfield worldview! You can see its appeal. And before you throw snark about her pronunciation of “hyperbole”. you probably used to pronounce it “hyperbowl” too: maybe you still do. Rhyming “Shelley, Byron and Keats” with “a hip-hop beat” is shakier ground, but if it’s either this playfulness or the sour misogyny of Eamonem-ism, then I know what I’m having. Maybe 2004 is picking up after all. I have a good feeling about this.
