Duncan James, Trains and Automobiles

DISCLAIMER: It might be worth pointing out now that Duncan James, member of Blue, performer at my Freshers’ Ball and die-hard advocate of twatty hair, has absolutely nothing to do with this blog. In a haze of anger after watching a video of a fellow Blue member Lee Ryan do something annoying, I got the two of them confused and in my haste wrote the title that hangs above this page like an ever-present reminder of my ignorance. In my defence I’m still not entirely sure what it is, name aside, that distinguishes these two people, so in an act of stubbornness, having found myself unwilling to change a title that provided memories of a classic John Candy film, I let it stand.

I’ve been thinking recently about the amount of time our generation spends listening to music. Whether I’m driving home, pretending to listen to my friends or devising ways to kill the busker outside my workplace who keeps playing Toploader songs, the chances are I’m doing it with earphones in. It is as if I have become addicted to ignoring the world outside me and getting lost in my own perfectly sound-tracked environment where I don’t have to deal with any of you lot. No offence, it’s just that you can be hard work sometimes, with your conversations and your shoes and your vitamin water. Most days I just don’t have the energy for interaction. The thing is I know I’m not alone. Anyone who’s ever spent time in a city during rush hour will have witnessed a constant stream of head-phoned commuters, all marching in unison whilst Steve Jobs sends subliminal messages through their iPods convincing them that the iPad really is a good idea and that no-one will ever want to see them naked unless they buy the iCock 4, or something. Whereas once upon a time people on public transport had conversations – probably about last night’s air-raid or something – our generation has embraced escapism, and then French-kissed it a little bit, and then tried to put our hands between its legs only to have it push them away and whisper oh-so-softly, “no, I’m not ready yet.”

The problem comes then when we are made to go cold turkey. The days when your battery runs out or you realise you’ve left your mp3 player on the kitchen counter are the days where we are forced back into the real world, cold, sweaty and shakily riding to work with no obvious excuse to ignore people. So what’s the worst that could happen? What are we so afraid of? Spending forty minutes listening to Johnny Banker talk to his friend about how he’s just become the mayor of Shinyshoesville on Foursquare is tedious but not fatal. Mugging, terrorist attacks and accidentally making eye-contact with the person sitting opposite you are all things that city-folk have to be aware of but music won’t prevent any of them, so really, there’s nothing to worry about, is there? That is unless some excruciatingly self-satisfied boy band member feels the need to musically assault you with some horribly saccharin, groin-thrust of a song without any warning whatsoever. Behold; Lee Ryan, or Duncan James or someone, making the smell of urine only the second worst thing on this tube.

For those of you who managed to watch all of that, well done, details of a counsellor will be placed at the end of this blog. Now I’m not going to dwell on this too much, but let me just point out a couple of things before moving on. Firstly, there is nothing wrong with busking, but at least give people the option of ignoring you. Look at 1:36, where Lee Duncan James Ryan from Blue sings just inches away from a man who finds himself in the unenviable situation of being trapped between the locked doors of a moving train and a twat; the only circumstance where a high speed collision would actually be preferable to a safe journey. He literally does not know what to do with himself. Look how close he is to the doors, it’s like he’s willing them to open so he can throw himself onto the tracks and find sweet, sweet relief. “If only I had my headphones in”, he must have thought, “I could pretend I hadn’t seen him”. Even worse, once he’s ruined this man’s day/life, Lee Duncan James Ryan then turns his attention to bothering various groups of mostly uncomfortable looking girls. Quite what it is about being in a boy band which makes trying to arouse underage girls acceptable is beyond me. Sure, you do it in Wembley stadium, no probs. You try it one time in a playground and seemingly without warning you find yourself labelled a sex-pest. Hypocrisy anyone? Essentially what I’m trying to say here is that I have video evidence of a pop star grooming young women and demand something be done about it. No? Worth a try.

I understand this may seem a little harsh, maybe I’m just in a bad mood, but something about this video made me quite angry. Just so I don’t send you all fleeing to the Apple store however, and also so I don’t waste an entire blog on a forgotten boyband member, I’ve decided to include some clips of buskers who won’t have you travelling around the Circle Line in the foetal position, reaching for the emergency stop as your life flashes before your eyes, just slowly enough for you to realise how much of it you’ve wasted not actively hating Blue.

Greg Patillo and Eric Stevenson
www.Concretebeat.blogspot.com
If it wasn’t for all the crime, impossible-to-hail cabs, men selling hip-hop demos to you in Times Square, fashionistas, Guidos and Greenwich Village trendies, I’d quite like to live in New York, and this is why. It takes a lot of work to make a flute cool but this guy pulls it off with aplomb. Wonderful isn’t it.

The Guerrilla Busker
Here The Guerrilla Busker, aka Kerry Leatham, who has apparently spent the last several months busking around Britain in various locations, plays to an empty train. I can only assume that Lee Duncan Ryan James got on at the last stop and caused everyone to walk home.

Nathaniel Rateliff
Amazing isn’t it? This doesn’t look like a train at all. In fact it looks a little bit like a recording studio. I’ve just been on the phone to Dickie Branson (he lets me call him that) and he says that as of 2012 all Virgin Train toilets will resemble this one, complete with a xylophone (pictured right) so you can practise your scales whilst releasing a massive turd – a trick Muse have made a career out of. Only joking, I quite like ‘em really. Anyway, this is quite obviously not a train, but it’s a really good song, so you should watch it anyway.

That’s all from me. Next week I’ll be talking about how the band Keane once ruined my trip to work by existing. Bye.

P.S I have literally mentioned Apple products at least half a dozen times here so if you’re reading, Steve Jobs, some freebees wouldn’t go a miss. Not an iPad though. I’m sorry, I just don’t get it.