A randomly filled iPod playing on shuffle and an 8 hour round trip to Brighton is a great way to rediscover music I haven’t listened to in a while. On this occasion, it rekindled one of my guilty pleasures that had sorta slipped off the radar – T.A.T.U.
Now by “guilty pleasure” I simply mean its something that I like listening to but won’t publicly wear the t-shirt for, and not that I regularly look them up on YouTube for a spot of frantic pocket joggling. T.A.T.U. were introduced to the UK with just such an instrument however, using the “controversial” value of their pretend rainy day schoolgirl lesbianism behind the Iron Curtain in the video for “All The Things She Said” as an attempt to garner interest in the band, and presumably the Russian lesbian scene and scholastic system at the same time. As a marketing gimmick it was a questionable approach – fake lesbianism really can’t sell anything to anyone other than a handful of copies of Maxim to Saxo-driving twatblasts on petrol station forecourts. Its also an established fact that the only music they buy is whatever Ministry Of Sound regurgitation is currently taking up rack space, and even then only because Back Seat Dave bit a chunk out of their Cascada vs Dr Hook mashup disc last time he was on parole and coked off his head. In fact this actually had the nett effect of making millions of people log onto YouTube to look at the clip, eliminating the need to buy the single. However, Radio 1 championed it, mainly because it made them seem edgy and modern and not the outdated drizzleshits that they are, so it went to Number One anyway.
Anyway, pseudohomoeroticality aside, “All The Things She Said” was actually a decent tune, although the rest of the album was basically foreign bollocks. There was however one T.A.T.U video that genuinely gets most red-blooded males’ pulses racing, and its for “All About Us” off their second album. The premise of the video is that the skinny dark haired one who’s name I can’t possibly be bothered to know has run away from the ginger one (likewise) to dabble in some man-love with a nasty pimp who looks like Russia’s answer to George Clooney. Of course things go bad and he gets violent but thankfully the Crimson Kossak has her on her gaydar and comes to her rescue just as she puts a gun to loverboy’s head and redecorates his flat Cobain style.
Certainly the sudden coat of arterial red ‘n chunks is something that is missing from far too many Top 20 videos, but thats not what elevates the old ticker. No, its the extended scenes of the auburn polecat roaring to to her friend/lover/business associate’s aid through empty streets. Were television a portal to another dimension rather than than a mere glass fronted box housing high concept electronics assembled by low concept underage indonesian peasant children, I’d hop right in there and spend a delightful time getting that saucy minx’s rear end all manner of sideways at every opportunity, regardless of local legalities. And yes, of course I am referring to the Camero SS in which she blasts through what I assume to be downtown Moscow, and not Red Kremlin herself. She could actively participate by keeping my car seat warm. Nice cup of tea please. 2 sugars.
Anyway, its all a positive result for Perestroika that I’m sure would have made Lenin pickle his own onions. Whatever that means. Live the dream. Вставайте люди русские