by / August 19th, 2009 /

FrankMusik – Complete Me

 1/5 Rating


Vincent Frank wants to be a pop star. Not your boring old cyber-star either, no Vincent Frank wants to be a vintage, gold plated, Smash Hits centrefold posing, Top of the Pops performing, scream inducing POP! star of the frothiest order. Anyone unfortunate enough to witness the bizarre ad for his debut album would think they had missed the birth of the new Bowie such is the goggle-eyed hype:

Oh look! It’s FrankMusik running down a cobblestone laneway (probably trying to escape some over excited fans) Oh look! There he is getting a ker-azy haircut (He’s so fashion-forward!), there he is laughing at nothing, there he is prancing around with that Holly Valance what was in Neighbours’¦saucy! There he is eating a bean-burger (like a normal person! Wow!) So far so Bros.

Except Vincent Frank isn’t a pop star, sadly he’s not even a normal person, he’s a gambolling fool with half a haircut, a marketing department hologram made up from excess bits of Sam Sparro and someone from A1 found in a broom cupboard somewhere. FrankMusik is a product of the disintegrating landscape of popular culture. A lazy, myopic world where any originality is seized upon, drained of its worth and duplicated ad-nausea. Like the cookie-cutter Winehouse’s with barnets all different shapes and sizes and their sad array of leopard print shoes, FrankMusik is the rubbish male La Roux:

Stupid haircut: Check!
Love of Erasure: Check!
Annoying vocals; Check!
Link to The Bill: Check! (Although Vincent’s link is a little bit more tenuous than being the actual child of a star’¦ he once saw Tosh in his school foyer fact fans!)

With the record company depending on the blind-stupidity of the general public you would think they would provide him with some actual solid pop songs that would encourage the masses to perhaps like this slapable twerp and make him the star he seems to already think he is. Alas, someone forgot to employ the hit-makers as there’s not a hook-soaked pop smash to be found. There is however, thirteen forgettable slices of soulless plastic excuses of songs reminiscent of the worst kind of 80’s keyboard vomit’¦.he truly is the new Climie Fisher.

The pinnacle of this revolting pap being the insidious, pathetic -borrowing’ of the melody from -Golden Brown’ on the god awful -When You’re Around’. This is not life-enhancing stellar pop sampling like the Sugababes -Freak Like Me’ but rather someone doing karaoke with the wrong lyrics. Frankmusik’¦he’s like this years Mika but different yeh? Don’t worry they’ll be another one along any minute’¦.

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