Telling you this hyperbole free, this is the worst band I ever did see

Yesterday I was privvy to a once in a blue moon event of such magnitude it deserves sharing with myself and about 3 other people. I am now the proud owner of a brand new 'worst band I've ever seen'. For nearly 7 years the mantle was held by Rotherham's finest In the Event of Neo Tokyo, a band so rubbish they actually made rotten vegetables, broken bits of rust and glass, and soiled incontinence pads seem like a michelin-star meal. For those who missed out on the spectacle, from memory the band consisted of 3 guys in ill fitting clothes (think spray-on jeans and child sized tweed jackets) actually hopping and skipping about the place while one twat ragged on a shit ibanez a bit, while another one hit a fisher price drumkit and the singer crawled around on the floor screaming and colouring in. Some of that might have been embellished, but the bit about the singer crawling around and colouring definately was not. Anyway, Neo Tokyo played some alldayer in Sheffield with some pretty straightforward punk and hardcore bands, which made their performance seem all the more ridiculous. Some arty types out there might consider thinking oh how brave of them, such heart to express themselves in the face of such bourgeois banality to which I say, NO NO NO. They weren't brave to be making such nonsense, they were more likely off their faces on the silver paint they'd sprayed on their winklepickers before hand and thought they were the most 'out there' thing since Ike landed a haymaker on Tina.

Before I focus upon the band to which I afford this most rare of accolades, I would like to allay any fears of ignorance or prejudice with a simple pre-amble: I like Animal Collective. To elaborate a little, I prefer Feels to Merriweather Post Pavilion, thought Fall Be Kind was excellent, and even went to see Panda Bear and sat through an hour and a half set of about 2 notes. If that's not enough I own some Peter Gabriel CDs. I am an open minded music dude.

With that said it's on to the award! Silver envelope please, ta.

It gives me great pleasure to bestow the crown of WORST FUCKING BAND I HAVE EVER SEEN to...

Crystal Castles!!!



It seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm at Leeds Festival (don't hate the player, hate the game) to watch some mega label name indie bands and some 'hot tipped acts', and find myself with an hour or so to burn before The Get Up Kids (get me). 'How about that NME tent I've been reading about', my id chips in. 'Sure, why not, I've heard NME definately have the pulse on what's good in the world of music' concurs my sycophantic ego. So off I trot, full of joyous apprehension, imaginations running wild with what blessings this tent of magic and wonder could hold. What's this? The crowd is packed out beyond the rather ample tent borders? While The Libertines are performing elsewhere? This could only be a wonderful, error-free augury! Loads of impressionable teenagers can't be wrong!

Then I walked in and saw through about 200 metres of total darkness some smelly bird on a stage fall off a drum kit while Scooter was playing in the background. Up she pops, takes a swig of Bombay Sapphire (what a classy alcoholic) and proceedes to squeel down a microphone like the kid at family do's that always makes too much racket while their parents stare at them like they're the most precious, precious thing. She then runs on the spot for a bit, screams for a bit more, and then falls over again. While Scooter plays in the background. And about 4,000 (probably an exagerration) people jump up and down like they're watching fucking Feeder or something. I look around me and everyone seems to be having a good time, which enrages me even more. Booing just doesn't cut it, so when the noise eventually stops I scream in anger, which some pre-teens in front of me mistake for appreciation and turn round and give me the thumbs up or something. Then they play another song that sounds like Scooter, and this bird climbs over everything and makes stupid noises. In hindsight it's like Basshunter if some posho smellies who are into shit American anime, collecting swords and sticking action figures all over their telly suddenly decided to take bear tranquilizers and make music that would really 'put it to the man'. Not since the days of Neo Tokyo have I been so utterly baffled, and so let down by my peers. Worse still, they weren't apologising for having an 'off day' or for the fact that they accidentally left the rest of the band at home, but said stuff through the microphone that I couldn't really hear but was probably telling people how fucking great they were. And the masses lapped it up like slightly sugary cream that brings luck and x-ray vision.

I would finally like to take this opportunity to say: Pitchfork, you are wrong. Vice, you are wrong. NME, you are wrong. Radio, you are wrong. Internet, you are wrong. That being said, if the internet is wrong, does that mean I'm wrong as well meaning that the internet is right, meaning that I'm still wrong? Or does it mean the internet is wrong but I'm somehow right because my thoughts pre-dating this existed before the statement about the internet being wrong so this remains pre-internet so even though the internet is eventually right it's still wrong?

On the plus side, it was good to see Rik from the young ones and the drug dealer from Pulp Fiction back in the public consciousness with their Arcade Fire collaboration.