Westlife's eighth single, and the very first ever not to go number one. It was Bob The Builder's fault, but then isn't everything these days? Yes, Bob-mania was in full swing. Everywhere you turned, there he was, with his hardhat and his toolbelt and his freaky, talking heavy-machinary. But where's Bob now? Huh? Nicky reckons he's become a plumber.
Anyway, now that I have all the very droll trivialites out of the way, let's explore this cover, shall we? Let's explore it together, and get to know it on a much deeper, more emotional level.
*cough* Sorry. The voices in my head tell me to be weird. It isn't directly my fault.
First things first. It's BLUE! That's right, it isn't black or white, it's BLUE! A very dark shade of blue, admittedly, and they're still wearing black and white, but it's a lovely step in the right direction. Thank god.
Second things second. All that fatty Irish food can't be too good for the constitution because, for the second time, there's constipation on a single cover. Mark seems to have borne the brunt of it, the pained grimace not quite concealed behind a hefty grin. Bryan, as well, looks like he's concentrating very hard, and Nicky's got that little lip-lift like he's trying to spread his cheeks as far as they will go so he can just roll one out. Kian and Shane look okay, so maybe they've been eating lots of fruit. Good for them. Being healthy is very important, especially if you're going to a photo shoot.
There are three b-sides, and they're all covers. They were going through a motown phase at the time, which only worked up until a point... so thank god this was pretty much the beginning and end of it. My Girl, What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted, and I'll Be There. They're all very good, actually, even if the novelty does wear off after a while. I'll Be There, especially, has a fantastic opening by Shane, who belts the crap out of the first note. It's really quite brilliant. My Girl is a good finger clicker, and the harmonies are absolutely stellar, especially from Kian and Nicky's end. What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted (or, as I like to call it, WBOTBH) is okay. It doesn't bring a lot to their motown phase, but it could have been worse.
Now, in case this hasn't given you any hints, go find some fruit. Or Metamucil, if things are getting desperate. You don't want to look like Mark.
Monday, May 15, 2006
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