Sometimes I go running in the morning. For some stupid reason I do this in a gym. Yes, there’s a whole world out there. But the gym is handily just by my work. The only inconvenience is the porn masquerading as music video television. At 7.30 in the morning. Let’s imagine the pitch. “Yeah, there’ll be girls, lots of girls. And they’ll be in a club/playing football in a video game/driving racing cars. No, no, that’s not all. They’ll also be wearing fuck all and bending over lots.” Oh, really? Mind blowing.
The music is an afterthought (and a bloody dire one at that), a vehicle for the video. They’ve got it all upside down. No wonder, after all that bending over. What’s even more ridiculous is that 80% of the workout audience are women and yet these videos have been made with adolescent boys in mind. Has no one picked up on how the whole room ups the pace when Kings of Leon get played? (That video had to be directed by a woman.)
Thankfully there is, erm, relief from the perma-tanned fembots and it comes in the form of Scandinavian superstars Robyn (‘Who’s That Girl?’ natch) and Alphabeat. Their shiny pop videos reflect the irresistible pop songs they make, the way it oughta be. Three minute bubbles to add a little colour to the shapes the sounds make. Every time either comes on (my gym’s repertoire is pretty limited and hardly current) it feeds something in me – there’s substance there. Which is more than you can say for the latex-thin porn-pop. Back to the treadmill then.