Malcolm McLaren was a unique force of nature whose font…
At last, we have an interesting Number One pop act. So, it’s goodbye to the weeping, chimney sweep, Leon Jackson and hello, Basshunter, happy hardcore Swedish willy waver. Otherwise known as Jonas Erik, the Swedish singer, DJ and producer has stormed the charts with ‘Now You’re Gone’.
In case you cared, it’s a grimly cheesy trance-fest about finding love on the internet. Okay, so a galloping, synth-and-stab rave choon about an Internet Relay Chat bot might raise suspicions of dullness and feelings of despair. However, Jonas is giving Paris, Britney and Pammy a run for their money ‘cause he’s getting some attention for his internet porn shots. Finally, the boys are getting in on the act.
Even better, is the fact that he’s utterly shameless and proud of his peekaboo. When questioned by Popjustice about his cock shots, Jonas dished with archetypal Swedish frankness: “Those pictures were taken at my parents’ house and me, my girlfriend and friends had been partying and drinking beforehand. We decided to take some pictures and have a little sex orgy at my place, and those pictures ‘somehow’ popped up on the internet. It wasn’t me who put them online.”
Rock and fucking roll. Those Swedes, huh? Questioned on how he feels about girls and of course, some boys, drooling over at his naked talents, Jonas is refreshingly unblushing.
“I can honestly say that I like sex – I like very much to use my penis for what I was born to do and I’m not really the shy guy. I want to show the world.”
Sadly, he seems to be a bit of a bellend, in addition to being proud of his own. It will be interesting to see how the media handle a proud, well endowed male pop star. Something tells me they won’t be quite so slathering, fawning and pervy as they are with the girls. Sit back and watch the double standards swing into action. Will he make the front pages? Will the tabloids follow him everywhere, hoping for flash of sideboob? Or will he sink without a trace, as male editors are left inadequate by his prowess and confused by his lack of shame?
Despite the fact that the single’s actually quite hideous, there’s something uplifting in the drastic sea change from gloopy X-Factor ballad to laser-licking stomper. Happy hardcore is dance music’s illegitimate, ADD child. Purists try to lock the bastard it in the attic, but it’s so noisy, energetic and joyful that they’re forced to admit its existence. Oh, and it sells by the shed load.
Go north of Watford, to any depressing city you’d happily flatten and there’ll be thousands of kids getting messy to this music. When they ain’t stabbing each other in the head, they’re pilled up to the eyeballs, gurning to banging remakes of soft rock songs from the ‘70s. When E costs less than organic chicken breasts and it’s cheaper to go to a rave than join a gym, who can blame them? Long live Basshunter and his magnificent knob.
First Published June 2008 GAY.com