Review - A Dream I Had ft. Scouting For Girls

Oh, the horror! All three members of "Scouting For Girls, Totally Convincing And Credible Indie Band" confronted me in my blissfully unaware sleep. There I was, strolling along a Dali-esque landscape, phallic object in hand, dripping in metaphorical detail (Crutch? Check. Soft watches? Check.), quite content in a daze of subconscious thought. The scene was shockingly dark, as per usual in my slightly lucid dreaming - it had all the characteristics of one of Salvador's surrealist vistas, all disjointed forms and free-floating heads of various members of Girls Aloud. Then, like a knife ripping through the canvas, the doughy face of the lead singer of Scouting For Girls looms into my line of vision. Oh No, I cry! This cannot be! My mind must have clearly been very preoccupied with something disastrous of great proportions to hurl this demon at me in my peaceful rest. So there I am, desperately trying to escape the lecherous grasp of the talentless members. "Come with us! ", they say, "we're writing an album and you can be on it, all you have to do is listen to the first one all the way through without attempting homicide.." No! I cried, elbowing the one who looks a bit like an Orc, you will never turn me into one of you! And in that moment, everything went black, eternity fell away before me and I stared into the abyss. Music was playing - at first I thought the booming noise was the drums of the four horsemen in preparation for the apocalypse, yet as the hook began, I realised it was something far more toxic. It was only when the burning image of the Beginner's Guide To Making Money : Indie Pop Edition appeared, scarring my thoughts, that I knew what this sickening death-march was. It was the opening track to the eponymous debut, "Keep On Walking," a song so painfully horrific it is famously known to be played at funeral services in the Indian subcontinent, to ward away evil spirits. It was only the loud beeps of my alarm clock that offered some comfort - I was alive, I was alive, I was alive. And, moreover, I hadn't met Scouting For Girls. What joy there is in the world! Even the incessant chirping of overly-caffeinated breakfast telly presenters couldn't taint my unbridled happiness.
Scouting For Girls should be reserved for drive-time radio when one can turn the volume down and have a chat, not seeping into your subconscious when you least expect it. I can only hope that tonight my dreams are safe - until the next SFG album drops, that is. Oh, God.