‘I turned saucy agony aunt’s column into pop banger with assist from Simon Cowell’s producer’
I’ve always wanted to be in the charts. Whether brandishing shampoo bottle microphones in the shower as a teenager or – more recently – clearing rooms during ill-advised karaoke sessions in south London pubs, I’ve never been afraid to ‘give it a good go’ at singing.
So when Viagogo reach out to offer heartbroken Brits the chance to put their own sob stories to record, I jumped at the opportunity.
Apparently 45% of us think our hearts have been ripped up to the extent where it would make a good song, but did my own experience of romantic trauma qualify? If Lily Allen could turn her divorce with David Harbour into a cathartic series of anthems, then perhaps my own tales were worthy?
The short answer is no, they are not. Annoyingly, the worst dumping I’ve ever received was in Year 6, when my then-girlfriend started holding someone else’s hand during breaktime.
I reacted badly, swiftly laying waste to the school’s tuckshop before setting the school hamster – Chomper – free. I still don’t regret a thing. And Alice – if you’re reading this, take me back?
Anyway, since then all my relationships have ended via a healthy dose of communication and respect. Great for one’s mental wellbeing, but utterly useless when pouring your heart out into a pop banger.
I need to look elsewhere for inspiration. Luckily, I work at a tabloid newspaper with its own dedicated romance advice section: Just Jane.
A short morning skimming through Jane’s entries goes by and then bang – I find what I need. “ My girlfriend fancied my Dad – and then she started bonking my brother.” Poor bloke, I think. But this is brilliant!
Armed with this most brutal of stories, I stride into Qube studios in Canary Wharf with a calm certainty that I possess the ammo required for the next ‘Song of the Summer’.
They’ll be slow-dancing to this in every disco between Land’s End and John o’ Groats, I say to PATCH, overseeing proceedings. He’s best known as the producer behind Simon Cowell’s boyband December 10, formed on his hit Netflix show.
“Right, cool,” he replies. “But please can you sit down now, mate.”
Very quickly it dawns on me just how out of my depth I am. Viagogo have assembled a team of veteran session musicians, whose day job it is to churn out hits.
THIS IS WHAT IT SOUNDS LIKE
Reluctantly, I let the experts do the legwork when it comes to writing the piece. “OK, OK,” says one of the singers, after I’ve explained the song’s concept. “This is very unconventional. But I reckon we can work with it.”
To their credit – despite being baffled by my tale of extraordinary woe, Viagogo’s team very swiftly come up with two verses and a chorus of catchy lyricism.
I watch from the sidelines and throw ideas at them, but to no avail. At one point I am even asked to leave the room.
When I return from my exile, I’m greeted by one of the excited musicians. “How’s this?” he asks.
The lyrics of the soon-to-be hit song ‘Family Tree’ are as follows:
“Oh you were meant to be my baby “But you were acting crazy “Every time we went to my Dad’s house
“Whispers over dinner “The taste’s a little bitter
“I’m bang right on the money, it turns out
“I’m looking up at a disaster “You’re making a move on my father “It’s clear you’re not putting me first “Then it went from bad to worse… now you’re dating my brother.”
Pound for pound, absolute pop drivel nonsense. But perhaps exactly the right pop drivel nonsense that will land this Daily Star journalist a spot in the UK charts.
Despite one of the singers having performed at Glastonbury, I insist it has to be me to enter the vocal booth and perform the words. “I just get the whole Just Jane thing,” I explain to the ashen-faced producer.
I mumble my way through a few lines, before the sentence no singer ever wants to hear booms through the mixing desk. “How do you reckon this is going?”
Badly, I admit. I’m no Taylor Swift behind the mic. “We’re gonna need a f***-load of autotune on this,” says PATCH to one of the musicians. He’s left the mic channel up, which means I can still hear what he’s saying. It must be an accident.
After a good hour of working my way through the song, I exits the vocal booth. “Best not to listen to this until we’ve given it the treatment,” comes the response when I reached for the playback button.
Family Tree will be out on Spotify – and all major streaming services – this week. Coincidentally, it’s the same week Cara Delevingne is releasing her first two singles. Battle of Britpop? I think not. Battle of Sh*t-Pop, that’s more accurate.
