BLUE

Last night we watched Blue, the ‘boy band’ performing in the Radio 1 Live Lounge.

Not exactly my choice but you know, marriage does funny things to us.

Apparently it’s 25 years since they had one of their two hits or something. For some reason they were dressed in clothes that looked like they’d come out of a Peaky-Blinders-themed charity shop.

It’s a thing for these reforming dad bands. Mark Owen out of Take That (who was something of a heartthrob in the 90s) now dresses like Compo out of Last of The Summer Wine. It’s flat caps, brown shirts and long coats. And Blue were of course, formulaically arrayed.

That’s the illusion of these bands isn’t it? Originality is unoriginal - it always was. Everything is manufactured. Even Antony Costa was winking at the camera whenever it zoomed in on his solo parts as though he were still a cheeky chappy who’d been told to look like he can’t believe his luck. 

It was hosted by Vernon Kay. Now, I like Vernon. He’s a sort of northern everyman, an avuncular host who sets you at ease. In this though, he came across as though he’d somehow secured a slot with The Beatles, but secretly, deep-down, knew that they were really just well, Blue. At one point he asked them about the last 25 years and they just said they’d been touring in other countries and hadn’t had time to be doing stuff in the UK. I raised an eyebrow.

Listen, I don’t mind Blue. You like what you like, and these guys appeal to a demographic that, let’s be honest, isn’t me. Their music is fine, but there’s nothing interesting about it. And they are fortunate to be able to do what they do, and sing their old songs to the mellow arrangement of (some of) the BBC Concert Orchestra - professional as ever. They seem like nice guys, like tattooed market traders who somehow learned to sing in harmony.

We got to the end of the 25 minutes, just as they were wrapping up an orchestral cover of Rolling in the Deep while Vernon beamed as though he was forcing himself not to check his watch.

“That’s that then,” I said.

“I can’t believe you’re still watching it to be honest,” said Sammy, looking up from her phone, uninterested.

Unbelievable.