Camacho packs his bags and go-goes

Jose-Antonio Camacho has quit his post as manager of Real Madrid, six years after, well... Doing the same thing. The two-time quitter says he won't be coming back, but lets face it, if you have the greatest starting eleven in the modern game, and you can't win any games, what on Earth makes you think anyone involved with the club would ask you back? Perez should have fired his ass.

But there's been discontent in Madrid longer Camacho's reign. Querioz took the greatest team on Earth to precisely fuck all silverware last season. Beckham, Zidane, Figo, Ronaldo, Raul, Roberto Carlos, Salgado, Casillas- How can this team not win anything?

Let's say it- oh, the irony- Real didn't win because they don't have any players. There is no depth whatsoever. By bolstering there squad with Owen, Woodgate, and Samuel, Real have merely increased the number of great players at the club to eleven. But the instant one of Real's eleven is injured, they're fucked. Beyond the greats in the squad, there's no one in the team who would get a start at Chelsea or Arsenal. Hell, these guys would be playing reserve games if they were at either the London-based teams. A team like Real, with Champions league games as well, can play 50+ matches in a season. They simply don't have the strength in depth to achieve anything, no matter the starting line-up's talent. Yet, they persist with this greedy, short sighted method. Zidane, Carlos and Figo are all over thirty, and the rest are all in the autumn of their careers. Woodgate, Owen and Casillas are the only ones with a lot playing time left. What happens in a few years when these players all quit? Spend $300-400 million on new stars? Unworkable. They're fucked, quite simply.

Which is frustrating for me; I'm a Newcastle supporter, so that was the silver lining of letting Woodgate go there: It would be good for the England squad. Same with Becks, and little Owen. Sunny Madrid never looked so gloomy.

These words are my words: Or, A defence of (some) pop music.

Let's get one clear. One irrefutable fact set in the most immovable granite: Most pop music today sucks. Most pop music is meticulously designed and marketed toward specific gender, age, and racial demographics. As it goes through this marketing makeover, it loses sight of what music is supposed to provide in the first place: An uncharted ride, a rollercoaster into the unknown- fun, pop is supposed to be fun. When a good pop records flirts across the airwaves, you are supposed to lose control of your body, hips switching from left to right, arms akimbo, like so many evangelicals on American Christian Network broadcasts.

But most of the time, this doesn't happen. Instead, you Usher's new album- flat, uninspired, everything-sounds-the-same horseshit. His last album, 8701, was great- what happened? Lil Jon and the crunk wave, that's what. Instead of doing what wanted, Usher saw gold in Lil Jon's hills, and now I have to suffer because of his greed. When I tell you Chingy makes me lose my mind, rest assured, I don't mean it in a good way. Ditto Anastasia- She's one who got breast cancer, so why do I feel like I'm the one suffering? I could go on and on and on and on...

...and on and on. Except I said I'd defend pop. So here goes. Two words. Natasha Bedingfield. "But Mark", I hear you exclaim, "Isn't she the younger sister of Daniel Bedingfield? And isn't Daniel one of the most infuriating non-personality's in music today? And doesn't the man have all the class and sophistication of a smelly gym sock hanging on a shower rail?" Yes, that's true. However, one musn't judge a sibling based on the merits of the other though. Nat has it goin'on. I mean, she namechecks Byron and Shelley, for Christs sake! Which is refreshing, in an era when most pop tarts can't namecheck anything but Gucci, Prada, etc,.. Her song 'These Words' has enough great hooks to snag Jaws, and her singing, well... She almost allows the words to tumble from her tongue, in a disarming, beautiful way. It's in and out the door in under four minutes and leaves you with a smile on your face. And who can ask for more than that?

Justin Timberlake, Pharell, Kanye West, Beyonce. Okay, these people aren't Kofi Annan, but they're sure as shit not Kissinger. Not saving the world, but not destroying it either. My favourite band in the world (by some margin) is still Radiohead. I like music that stimulates me, be it mental (Hail to thief) or just butt wiggling (Franz Ferdinand); Big Pimpin' (The Blueprint) or big message (Talib Kweli's 'Quality'). But all this stuff isn't JUST made for shifting units- it's made because the artists involved got that feeling, because in the studio, they lost control of their minds, or their bodies, or both. Something pre-fab Pop/American/Australian Idol will never understand.

Records I'm listening to this week:
THE OPEN- the silent hours (2004)
THE WIRE COMPLEX - a work of fiction (2004)
McALMONT & BUTLER - the sound of... (1995)
THE KILLERS - hot fuss (2004)