Ah, the Brits. The UK’s answer to The Grammys except, in typical British fashion, no one beyond this isle actually cares one iota about it [Ed – no one in this isle cares one iota about it either]. We could recap all the winners and losers [Ed – if we looked at Wikipedia], but it seems to us that we’re all losers if the Brits represents the best our music industry has to offer. Instead we’ve decided to take a look at the highs [Ed- cough] and lows that made up the ceremony this year.
The Highs
Coronation Street:
Who can forget those last ten minutes of Coronation Street that gave us an idea of what the 50 Shades of Grey film would’ve looked like if done in the UK industry on a budget? Someone yelling in the street while being followed by a man in a van, already lined with plastic, telling her to get in the car? Quality viewing.
The ad breaks:
Shout-out to all 8ish ad breaks that gave everyone a bit of time to contemplate what had gone wrong with their life to lead them to sitting in and watching the Brits on a Wednesday night. Also, apparently some of the adverts themselves were actually alright.
Royal Blood:
Turned out Royal Blood are a bit shit at stealth and so we all got to witness the duo’s embarrassment to be seen on the telebox at such a mainstream, non-edgy event [Ed – where they belong]. From their acceptance speech deliberately looking away from the camera so they became obscured by the backdrop to their performance with enough fog and lasers to blind even those who previously had 20/20 vision– it was clear Royal Blood were pulling out as many of the stops as possible to ensure that– to paraphrase their acceptance speech– “no one knew who they were“. However it was impossible to miss their ‘chat’ with musical peers and equals Sam Smith and Alt-J (but, like their second album, don’t really grab any sort of attention any more). It probably harms their rock and roll credentials to be seen schmoozing with their pop equal and to chat with the presenter equivalent of the stray dogs you fed once out of pity but continue to follow you around town, Ant and Dec. But we all noticed guys. No worries.
The Censorship Team:
In the space of one performance, the ITV censorship team proved why they are such a pivotal part to any live television broadcast. They made sure that the horrible offense that was Kanye West’s performance did get people talking– though mainly because their talking was to cover the ‘audio muting’ that dominated about 80% of the track. Bonus points for their ability to only censor some of the offensive content and let others slip though because they’d resigned themselves to being fired by the end of the night anyway.
Jimmy Carr:
Nothing pleases us more than watching comedians bombing more violently than Russia on Ukraine/The contestants on TV nightmare Splash (pick whichever). That honour at the 2015 Brits went to Jimmy Carr who proved why he’s been relegated to only presenting 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown when his joke about Madonna got less laughs than Dapper Laughs. You can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half:
Madonna’s Tumblr:
Still showing that she’s relevant and hip– Madonna showed the Great British public that she knew how Tumblr worked by demonstrating it first hand live on stage. Turns out she may have misunderstood, but at the same time has provided enough materials for memes and gifs to power the internet for the next week– Left Shark has nothing on her.
The Lows
Every moment with Ant & Dec:
Whilst last year we had some delightful autocue work from James Corden, some bigwig seems to have thought they’re not getting enough out of Ant & Dec’s salaries yet and decided to put them to work again. This lead to some A+ Geordie Autocue Banter (c) and enough second-hand embarrassment that even UKIP members found themselves cringing. Even the funny bit– and yes, we say bit because there was only one moment where we found ourselves admitting that there was a glimmer of humour in there– just fell as flat as Katy Perry’s voice at the 2014 awards. Can’t ITV dig up anyone better? Seriously, dig someone up, they might have more natural charisma.
Every moment with Ed Sheeran:
“Ed Sheeran was one of the big winners of the night” is all I’ve read/heard today. And if him being a big winner represents the state of the UK music industry– we’re all fucking doomed. On the plus side those of us who have struggled with Loop Pedal sync in the past will have been grinning with glee when someone who’s only job is hitting a looper in time failed to do so and ended up with guitar loops running out of sync. Poorly written songs, no stage presence and no ability to perform his poorly written songs live. The idea that people, en-mass, purchased tickets to watch this poor man’s KT Tunstall perform in an arena boggles the mind.
Every moment with Sam Smith:
We were all really shocked when Sam Smith actually sung opposed to mimed but that still didn’t make it interesting. In fact nothing about Sam Smith was interesting last night: he won the awards we expected him to, he performed the way we thought he would and his inane chit-chat with Ant & Dec was actually more dull than Ant & Dec by themselves. You probably could’ve replaced him with a cardboard cutout and still got the same response.
Simon Cowell (honorable mention to the rest of his table):
We may as well just admit that Simon Cowell should just get all the Brits thrown at him– preferably aimed at his face. But as if he wasn’t insufferable enough normally, this year he sunk to new lows and we all collectively felt like he was the UK’s answer to the whole John Travolta at The Oscars episode.
We also must mention the rest of his entourage that accompanied Mr. Cowell on his table of famous faces. We had Labrinth who potentially hasn’t done anything notable since 2011 and couldn’t quite get everyone talking about his hat and Ella Henderson who, judging from her face post-announcement, knows how to be a gracious loser
There were probably a few others, but we’re not sure where they place in the scale of famous.
This Windows Advert:
The Trophy
And the fact that, despite over two hours of tele, no one smashed it’s head off in a rage.
Here’s to the next one eh?
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