In Which Avril Lavigne is Most Certainly Not Compared to the Fuhrer.

Hooray! Because Avril Lavigne's back, and she's really sticking it to those princesses out there. The video for her new single, The Best Damn Thing, features all of your favourite Avril highjinks; the singer herself dances and shouts a bit, overemphasises the drama 101 staples of vulnerable, angry, stupid etc, and 'plays the drums' because she's a bit different to everyone else. The gaggle of obligatory happy emos who always seem to have such a roaring time pandering to Avril's dull wildness are present and correct, though not to the same extent as previous videos - they're achingly happy just to play band in the background this time. And, of course, the lazy references to America's obsession with the teen princess are there too. Next video, please.

Or that SHOULD be the end of it. So what's got the heckles up?

Weeeell, Avril's undergone a bit of branding. In case you didn't notice it (maybe you were watching the braille version of this one), it's that clever big Anarchy A, in a heart. Clever. Thing is, when your pitching yourself fundamentally, and still very presently, as someone against everything that's vacuous and shallow about teen culture, then subsequently branding yourself...well, that's just Damn Stupid.

And when it's stacked up against other standard MV fare, it's Pretty Damn Conventional. Three wardrobe changes? Yes. Distinct choreographed dance/with the band/artist alone sections? Yes. Has it made the choice between being sorrowful ("singing about tragic things in my life") and upbeat ("I'm sexy and brilliant")? Yes. Anarchy!

And branding yourself with the symbol of Anarchy? In a heart? What do you mean, Avril?! What are you trying to tell us? Is love anarchy? Do you love anarchy? Is to love you to love anarchy? Or is it just because your name begins with an A, and you were googling your name one day, and you found a site of rubbish fanfiction where you led the storming of the Bastille with the cast of Stargate SG1, and you convinced yourself that that actually probobly happened, so you decided to use that cool A you saw on a bus stop the one time you actually had to use public transport (because you're no princess) because that's KEWL and subversive as well LOL.

Ok, so this might all seem a bit harsh, but the Lavigne lost any of those Irony as a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free card/ "oh she's just a teenager singing songs for teenagers so stop taking it all so serious you unemployed boatman" arguments when she pitched up with the video for "Girlfriend", which simply advocated the systematic bullying of a peer in order to get what-you don't-have. Of course, she overacts as the bullied party as well, but it's employment in the video is as weak an argument for Avril understanding the other side of the coin as Hitler suggesting that he whaled on other countries in the 40's because someone laughed at his painting prowess when he were a lad. Not that I'm comparing Avril Lavigne to Hitler (he liked the order, for one thing), but seriously, I defy anyone to watch "Girlfriend" and come back with an ironclad point by point FAQ detailing how it isn't some turgid advert for torturing your peers for personal gain. Damn anyone who even tries.

You're Never Too Big for the Polygonic Irrelevance Mist

Ahoy! As this is my first review, I'll level with you. I don't generally work on these alone. I'm not a celebrity, so I'm therefore unemployed, and what else would an unemployed pirate of holidays do other than frequent an entry level, stripper-free gentleman's club? It's quite tame, really; the Hula Hoops are only 20p, but the television lost its buttons to a one sided fight with a drunken Mr Ratburn eons ago, and so now the only channel we get is The Hits on Freeview.

Fair enough; music videos are a vastly under appreciated format, and also make ideal text-fodder. Essentially, the producer/director/whatever has to sum up the artist, as well as the track they're directing for, in (generally) under four minutes, which is an almost perfect canvas - enough time to convey enough ideas, aesthetics etc. to carry the track, but not too prolonged to subsequently force anything too labourious on the audience.

This also serves to make them more immediately affecting, annoying, humourous or even thought-provoking than a lot of other media. Truth be told, though, they're more often than not either infuriating or unintentionally funny. Or both. Which is where this blog comes in.


Yep, this blog is usually written post-conversation with the good men of the Pie Club (being the name of our one-channel haunt), so all credit to them. They're usually fairly heated debates, too - John Virgo almost killed a man arguing the positive merits of The Girls Aloud's improv choreography skills. But an unusual, almost zen like calm swept the TV room this morning as the club's men came to an unprecedented agreement - Madonna's new video sucks.

And HOW it does suck. Shall I count the ways? I certainly have the time, unlike the aforementioned movie, which went to great pains to express how little time it actually had to convey its message. Of course, it's Timbaland who first makes the point, though in such a way that he seems to be suggesting that what follows in the four minutes he apparently has left is what he would consider an appropriate use of that time. Fine, if it's just that he has four spare minutes of tape to use up or something, but if a pointless collaboration with a geriatric contortionist and a boy who probably makes Gundam noises when he dances (i.e. Justin Timberlake) is the last wish of a dying man, then we all really have to start prescribing Gilgamesh style walkabouts to future generations as standard.

Whatever the motive, there's certainly a lot to take in. In fact, if you like Rubbish Big Non-Metaphorical Metaphors, then you'll love this video. Let's see; there's a massive digital clock and some black polygonic mist that seems to Incredible Cross Section everything; a car lot, a supermarket, and some soup (and some people kissing, but in a normal way that Madonna wouldn't bother with, which presumably makes it boring or something); a blink-and-you'll-miss-it office corridor, and a toilet scene where Madonna thinks she's big Justin, subsequently finding another excuse to take off more clothes. There's no plot to speak of, but whoever directed the video presumably intended one, so I'll try to find it.

Here's my best guess. After Timbaland's suggested that the following is pretty much all in his head and we're being treated to some sort of incredible Timbaland Mind Show, the curtain goes up. Madonna (who still looks incredibly young and sexy, don't you know) is pushing a car. Maybe she's doing that for fun, but more likely it's run out of gas - a RBN-MM for her career. Or Guy Ritchie. Anyway, she abandons the car (i.e. Guy Ritchie) and a chase ensues. Her pursuer is the big polygonic mist we spoke of, and she's followed through several modern-life-is-rubbish scenes, from a conventional family dinner table, to Frank Butcher's car lot. In running from the mist, she bumps into a potential companion (Doctor Who stylee) in Justin Timberlake, and they un-sexily proceed through the rest of the video, but not before the mist catches up and pointlessly Incredible Cross Sections them too. Like they jolly well deserve.

The mist is presumably a metaphor for death, but probobly more likely to be suggested as 'indifference' or 'irrelevance' or 'not doing anything with your day'. Fair enough. What I don't like is how, through it, the video seems to whale on eating soup, or having a bath, or kissing some one. I'm sorry I never realised there was a cool way to eat soup, or that eating soup or having a bath in themselves where testament to my life stagnating to the point of oblivion, but then that's presumably because I can't twist my leg round my head or dance like a rubbish Patlabor.

But there's hope, because there are plenty of suggestions buried within the video that'll help me - help us all - cast of the shackles of daily anthropological monotony. Why not climb through a window when leaving a building? Bet you never thought of that. Or race someone on a supermarket checkout? Wow! Crazy. I won't be doing that, because I'm not a attention seeking mentalist. Proven, in no small measure, by this blog...

Aaanyway, the whole thing comes to head as Madonna and J.T. bust some moves in front of the giant clock. Admittedly, the giant clock, constantly counting down behind some tighter choreography, could've been really impressive. But it's relatively forgotten, as whoever was in charge of editing tries to fit so many Cool Moves into the remainder of the piece that it becomes largely irrelevant. In fact, we suspect that it might've been the absence of these Cool Moves that lead to the decision to stop the viewer seeing anything for more than half a second.

Persist in hunting for them, though, because it's a treat. Not so much Madonna - she keeps thrusting at the camera as if we'd never seen her vagina before. But keep an eye on Justin in the background, who, once he's pulled a few trademarks, can only muster a spin, a epileptic cat pose and a shock!/Jazz hands combo (which is more than I could pull off, to be fair, but then that's because I'm too busy spooning prole-soup into my slacken'd jaw, wondering where my next bath is going to come from).

Then some more cross section stuff, and then it's over. Unless you've seen the album-promo edition, in which you're treated to some oh-so-never-seen-before suggestive typography, pitching Madonna (in another incredible disguise) as a potential Willy Wonka, with the promise of plenty of sexy candy (hooray) and not a lot else. What's disappointing is that the actual audio track, at points, suggests that this musical superteam were out to 'save the world', and yet, did nothing of the sort. They could only point out the omnipresent tediousness of our existences before they, too, were consumed by the polygonic swirl of time or irrelevance or something.

Well, except Timbaland. This was all in his head, remember?