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Pop CultureNovember 16, 2016

The Chainsmokers: Abrasive man-children, fratboy assholes, makers of the best song of the year, or all of the above?

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Elle Hunt leaks her Facebook chat with Joseph Moore and Ciaran O’Regan about the Chainsmokers, the world’s favourite pop bros, and ‘Closer’, their globe-smashing hit.

ELLE: Even if you don’t know the Chainsmokers by name, or their previous work (mostly: a song called ‘Selfie’, about selfies), you will have heard ‘Closer’. I dislike it with an intensity that I logically understand to be unreasonable. The tripping little synth during the verse annoys me. The breath between “stole” and “from your roommate” in the chorus annoys me. The male vocalist, one-half of the duo, seems to be putting on an accent, which annoys me. And the big finish, when Halsey’s really gunning for it, is just about unlistenable.

Having read a profile of the Chainsmokers in which they came across as abrasive man-children I like it even less, and feel justified in doing so. But I seem to be in the minority. It’s been in the charts for weeks. The New York Times devoted a podcast to it. There are memes about how much it bangs.

It doesn’t bang, not a bit, at all.

https://twitter.com/whytryshay/status/786322592625852416

Attempting to persuade me otherwise are Joseph Moore and Ciaran O’Regan, with whom I have maintained a pop-centric Facebook chat thread for two years.

JOSEPH: I started off more curious about the Chainsmokers than anything, after reading that Billboard feature and watching their ‘How We Made It’ YouTube tutorials where it’s clear they have no idea how they made their songs.

But, somewhere along the way, this eerie banger about being sad and horny and white got me hooked. Like actual chain-smoking! Somehow, these undeniable fratboy assholes who are bad at music made the best song of the year.

So much of it comes down that to that three-note melody in the drop, which is so stupidly simple it’s like a children’s song you’ve known your whole life (or at least since The Fray’s ‘Over My Head’). Did they just clock melodies?

I love this song’s refreshing intimacy. Dance-pop lyrics have always been so loaded with generic Instagrammable life affirmations, yet this is very specifically about two people who fucked at least twice (once in Boulder, once in Tucson). By the song’s triumphant end, I’m somehow nostalgic for their made-up relationship. Take me back to Tucson baby!

ELLE: I just don’t know where to start with how deluded you are, but on the song’s “refreshing intimacy” – anyone who has to take a breath in the middle of a sentence is frankly not someone I care to be intimate with. Especially not in the back of a CAR.

I agree that it’s good that EDM is branching out into other lyrics than “yeah”, “air”, “don’t care”, etc. but it still reads like it was written on the back of a napkin. Parts of it don’t make sense. Are they in a Rover? Or on a stolen mattress? Who steals mattresses, anyway?

What you construe as “putting the heart and soul back into EDM” strikes me as weirdly cynical, like the Chainsmokers are congratulating themselves for surpassing a very low bar.

What is your favourite ‘Closer’ meme? I hate ‘Closer’ but I love memes. Maybe that will be my ‘in’.

JOSEPH: I’m not sure The Chainsmokers are cynical. They are basic dudes and basic dudes find sincerity in all sorts of dumb shit – smoochin’ an old flame in the backseat of a car might be the romantic high point of their lives. Maybe the cynical person here is the one who hears those giant sweeping chords that bring this baby home and doesn’t feel ANYTHING.

I don’t know about the ‘Closer’ memes, sorry. Is there one where the song plays, and then a genius (Einstein?) says “great song!”? I will get to work on this meme, one moment.

ELLE: No, I mean like this one:

Or this one:

https://twitter.com/Ntrippy16/status/787843153365729280

This is a good one, I admit:

https://twitter.com/jannpersigas127/status/785952822869135360

Sorry Ciaran, you go.

CIARAN: I, too, wish this wonderful song was written and produced by less dickish people. But this is life on the charts. The music business is so lousy with jackasses capable of turning out great music that it almost seems innate to the profession.

Before ‘Closer’, I knew the Chainsmokers existed. I knew they made songs. I paid them no mind. I saw them as a nuisance that would fizzle out before it became necessary to learn their names.

‘Closer’ put a speedy end to that. Taken in the context of the charts it stormed, it’s unique in so many ways. It’s not some overblown banger. The production is light and airy, with the exception of the outro, where I must concede, Elle – they overcooked it.

The vocals aren’t booming or autotune-heavy. Sure, on a technical level, they could have stood a few more takes. But they’re bare and breathy – the effect is quite intimate.

I think it’s the lyrics, though, which are the key to the song’s meteoric rise. The unlawfully obtained mattress. The Blink-182 song. The shoulder-tattoo-biting. Pop ballads usually eschew this level of detail to tell a more universal story. What ‘Closer’ makes clear is that listeners don’t need a song to be about them; in fact, we may revel even more in sitting front row at somebody else’s fuckup.

This song has been No. 1 on the Hot 100 for 12 consecutive weeks, a feat only achieved by 16 other songs in history. It’s hard not to see ‘Closer’ as a step in the right direction. It’s more finely-drawn and less trite than most of them, and also the first song of its size to depict semi-realistic sex. All of this can only be good news for better bloody pop.

ELLE: Ciaran, I like hearing you talk about ‘Closer’ far more than I like hearing ‘Closer’, which is, admittedly, not at all. But you have made me see the upsides in this song I previously hated with a passion. The way you talk about it makes me wish I could hear it the way millions of others around the world do, including President Obama.

Both of your comments about the specificity of the lyrics reminded me of Taylor Swift, who writes songs with very specific scenes that you use as stand-ins for your own experiences. It’s very effective when she does it and I can, begrudgingly, accept that somehow these stupid Chainsmokers have done the same here.

CIARAN: I should point out here that you’re not in that much of a minority. Several great commentators have poured scorn on this thing. And even though Obama definitely listened to it and that account is definitely real, he may have just been seeing what all the bother was about.

You’re right, however, in suggesting the lyrical style is straight out of the Swift playbook. Ultimately, for all my high-minded analysis, this song just plays my feelings like a fiddle and you may simply be more wise to its moves.

JOSEPH: Hey guys, sorry I’m missed the chat getting good. I was making a Closer meme …

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WN2620BWDK0&feature=youtu.be

Keep going!
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Pop CultureNovember 16, 2016

Celebrating Victoria: the period drama with the best frocks and the boldest locks

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Tara Ward, The Spinoff’s supreme queen of the period drama, tells you why you should bravely enter the court of Victoria

It’s 1837 and Queen Victoria is up to her ears in worries. Is her head too small for the crown? Are her ear plaits symmetrical? Is her uncle plotting to dethrone her and seize power? Just your average teenage angst, then, with a fancy palace and a few colonies chucked in for good measure.

If you love a good historical costume drama, then this is your safe place. Focusing on the early years of her reign, Victoria is a tightly wrapped parcel of drama and intrigue, topped with a curly ribbon of scandal. So tighten your corsets, wrap your hair around your ears and bring out your smelling salts, as we unwrap the many the reasons to love Victoria.

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Yaas Queen: Victoria’s got this

Jenna Coleman’s come a long way since she pashed Debbie Dingle on Emmerdale. Now she’s playing a teenage monarch whose every move is challenged and undermined by a bunch of shouty old men who think slavery is progress. They question Victoria’s experience, insult her height and gossip about her mental wellbeing. Just as well she didn’t wear pantsuits.

Spoiler alert, gents: Victoria has this gig for life.

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“I hear her tongue is too big for her mouth,” declares one generous subject. Slack tongue or not, Victoria calls the shots. She changes her name from Alexandrina to Victoria (easier to pronounce, probably also faster when signing treaties) and refuses to bow to political pressure. She also likes to look wistfully into the distance, no doubt watching her Empire expand by the minute.

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But best of all, Victoria refuses to take anyone’s shit. “I shall not need your assistance,” she tells Regent wannabe Conroy, which is Queen speak for “you and your sideburns can feck right off, you power hungry turncoat.” Amen, sister.

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It celebrates a new modern world

Breaking news: I am Mrs Jenkins. She distrusts gas lighting like I distrust Snapchat. Videos that disappear in seconds? Light that comes out of a pipe? It has to be witchcraft – and don’t even get us started on that new-fangled ice room in the palace basement, because it’s obviously the devil’s work.

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Lord Melbourne is the new Darcy

“Queens do not chase after prime ministers,” warns the Duchess of Kent. Don’t be so hasty, Vicky’s Mum.

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Praise the Lord, someone call an M-tervention, because I’m obsessed with a Whig. If only all politicians were as stoic and loyal and steadfast as Lord Melbourne, with kind eyes and a cravat that I want to press my face into and inhale all the well-laundered goodness that lies beneath. I bet Lord M smells like musk and devotion. No wonder they named a city after him.

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“To me, Ma’am, you are every inch the queen,” says Melbourne, his reassuring advice gushing everywhere like a nineteenth-century open sewer. It was music to Victoria’s ears, and to mine. I may or may not have turned Melbourne’s words into my new ring-tone. Lord M, call me.

Great frocks, great locks

Victoria has everything we expect in a costume drama: gorgeous costumes, beautiful scenery, and lavish sets with more armless statues than you can shake your sceptre at. But hold the parade, because Victoria has a secret weapon in the war against bad television: outstanding hair.

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I’ve a sudden urge to manoeuvre my own limp mane into tiny ringlets and rock a mean centre parting, just so that my hair can enter the room three minutes before the rest of me. We salute you, curls of Buckingham Palace. I will never eat another curly fry without thinking fondly of you. 

Facts, schmacts: it’s all about the big cheese

Outraged experts foam at the mouth over historical inaccuracies that pop up in dramas like Victoria. There should be more servants in the kitchens! Victoria’s uncle never tried to seize power! The Queen’s eyebrows shouldn’t be so smooth!

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Whatever. Victoria’s best bits are found lurking silently in the background, like a feral rat ready to pounce onto a royal birthday cake. Who cares about historical truths when there’s a giant wheel of cheese waiting to be devoured?

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Ignore Victoria’s emotional outbursts and check out the impressive size of those hedges. Imagine trimming those bastards with a tiny pair of scissors, just so the Queen can jam her umbrella into them in a fit of teenage rage.

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And as for this servant who spat on his hanky to polish the statue’s breast: may an infestation of palace rats fall out of the wall and into your nightmares, you uncouth, baggy-sleeved imbecile.

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Let the people rejoice, for Victoria has ascended to the throne. It’s a cracking piece of costume drama with a gutsy heroine, a grand world of politics and privilege, and flame that comes out of a pipe. What more could you want, other than a chunk of Mrs Jenkins’ cheese and a comforting look from Lord M? God save the Queen, indeed.


Victoria airs on TVNZ 1, Sundays at 8.30pm

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