My Westlife collection, that is. Because it finally arrived today! This, folks, is my beautiful new copy of the American version of the 'Westlife' album. After many years of scrambling and heartbreak and running about CD shops, it is here. And it's mine.
It's basically the same as the UK version, except condensed into 13 songs instead of 17. There's a bonus track that didn't come with the UK version called My Private Movie, which sounds bloody kinky but is one of the poppiest, most hilariously fun pieces of music they've released in their careers. It's brilliantly cheesy, but it's so boppy it's addictive.
The album was released through Arista records, their US label, and has quite lovely sleeve art. There they are, all five of them (and isn't that a total time warp!), with their floppy hair, sitting in a hallway. It looks a little like the toilet block outside a couple of my uni classes, so it doesn't exactly make me think of sunshine and roses, but the lads look very gorgeous, especially Nicky, whose RARGH!-ness factor is off the charts. That boy should avert his gaze more often.
It's bizarrely symmetrical, though, if you have a gander at the way Nicky and Shane's knees line up, and the way Kian and Mark seem to have adopted almost identical poses. A little 'Village Of The Damned', really. Spooky. And Kian's hands are so deep in his pockets they look like parachute pants. Except cream. Not a good look, even if you are MC Hammer, and Kian is not.
You really have to wonder if Bryan's been chained to that radiator. He doesn't look too pleased, does he?