malcolm mclaren

The Saturdays, ‘Notorious’

The Saturdays

In the leading pack of life’s crushing disappointments is the discovery that the default hottest girl group in the land’s new single is not a cover of Duran Duran’s brilliantly lumpenly funky quasi-career-killer. Mollie could’ve done a “No-“, then Rochelle could’ve done a “No-“, then Frankie, Una and the other one could’ve joined reedy forces on “NOTORIOUS”, and it could’ve all descended into Chic meets the Sex Pistols meets Red Hot Chili Peppers chaos. Just look at what you could’ve won.

Instead, “My résumé says I’m a bad girl”. It’s no “Who really gives a damn for a flaky bandit?”, is it? Where it pulls it out of the fire though is with the fruity electro pulse and vocals put through the ringer – it’s mechanised. The Saturdays are only bad girls, notorious, because they’ve been programmed to be so. It’s svengali’d by computer, a Space Odyssey Malcolm McLaren. Not a terribly wholesome, erm, whole but a functional thrill.

It’s brought here by mistake, the lucky conjunction of the girls appearing on So You Think You Can Dance? and Junior and I happening to be watching it. While I continued my ongoing study of career trajectories of girl groups, Junior copied every single dance move they made. One beat behind, but accurately. Recent clips from Rihanna and Lady Gaga have got me in a panic about just how knowing young girls can get. They sponge it up. Normally – to the odd sulky “awww” – I’d switch over, but there’s little overtly sexualised about The Saturdays’ robotic choreography. Thin end of the wedge though.

[11] Malcolm McLaren, ‘Madam Butterfly’

One of Talcy Malcy’s grand follies. He’s had loads, hasn’t he? “I know, hip-hop sounds just like country dancing! Hmm, that Vivienne Westwood’s rather cute. What if I did a record about a skipping troupe, with Soweto singing? I’ve had this idea that I could mix house music with Strauss. No, it doesn’t sound like Hooked On Classics at all. This is a good one: it’s about the history of Oxford Street, only with Alison Limerick singing and the Happy Mondays being the Bee Gees. What about these chaps? Yes, I know he’s ginger, but he isn’t half nasty and anarchic and that.”

This is a brilliant conceit. Junior even flexes her knees to it. Go on, track it down; it’s even better now.

I met Malcolm McLaren at a dinner party about six years ago. He’s a pleasant old duffer.