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Am I behind the times or has the world gone mad? Here we have a band, who last summer (on account of their musical merit, no doubt) dined with Gordon Brown and Bill Clinton at Nelson Mandela's house. Nelson Mandela! It's a screaming example, as if one were needed, of the sheer power and money-spinning potential of chart-topping, brazen, pretty-girl pop.
By now, unless you've been living under a stone, you've heard the new Sugababes song, the lead single from Catfights And Spotlights, Girls - a cover of Ernie K. Doe's classic Here Come The Girls. Admit it, it's a pop belter - but then Sugababes have pedigree in this department. Freak Like Me, Push The Button - their singles always seem to have pop hooks like talons that slyly pierce their way into you, while Keisha, Heidi, and Amelle smile innocently.
For an album whose alleged goals are to showcase a new Sugababes, one that is unified and over the departure of Mutya Buena, a Sugababes that wish to extol the virtues of the independent woman, Catfights And Spotlights is full of early contradictions. I mean, the title hardly screams unity does it?
And then there's the lyrics to No Can Do, whose gloriously ridiculous lyrics proclaim "You messed up from your chromosomes to your enzymes" and proceed to tell a tale of some feckless bloke, a male gold digger, before the chorus reassures: "but baby I'm sticking with you anyway", is this the independent women we're supposed to believe Sugababes have grown into?
Similarly No Can Do's "I've been thinking about how you've been messing around/Why do you get your kicks from hurting me?" is a pitiful lament that would be more suited to a morose violin than a pro-feminist sensibility. Women's lib must be kicking herself!
The Barbie-doll innocent pop of Hanging On A Star is pathetic, and infuriating. And when you consider what belting singles this trio release, as well as the fact that this is their sixth album it compounds major problems. They're experienced, and should know better.
Side Chick duly administers some dark pop R&B antidote, with a sassy harmonised vocal hook, it screams "Pick me as a single!". Led by Keisha Buchanan, it is demonstrative, as is the entire album, of how much she has personally developed as a vocalist, boasting a genuinely adept vocal talent, with a powerful delivery, and a knowing depth - it's no coincidence that Sugababes' finest moments generally have Keisha at their centre.
Unbreakable has a shit verse rescued by a belting chorus, while Sunday Rain gets caught pondering how different things might have ended up if it was Duffy.
Listen to it for Girls, Side Chick, and Sunday Rain. The other bloated, mind-alteringly infuriating songs are deadweights.
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