This may be social suicide, I certainly hope it is, but I like, (sorry, love) One Direction. "One Direction?", I hear you ask. Yes, those little pip squeaks from the telly. Those preened, plucked and polished Bieber-look-a-likes who’ve been inked by a tattoo artist having a nervous breakdown? Yes. That lot, even the one who doesn’t sing. I love them.
For those of you who don't know them, they are an English-Irish pop boy band based in London, consisting of Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson. The truth is that One Direction are the X Factor rejects, who formed a band, who then lost, released one song six months later that sent the world into hysteria, selling 19 million singles and 10 million albums to date. They signed with Simon Cowell's record label Syco Records. They’re the new Beatles, with considerably less talent, but next year they’re playing Wembley Stadium for three nights as part of a world tour. That’s 210,000 screaming fans before they’ve even left London.
Their success is still baffling to most of us, but, I can't help noticing they do put out a good song or two. Their first album arguably gave us one of the best pop songs of the 21st century, What Makes You Beautiful. I remember hearing it for the first time, I was working in a carrot factory in the Fens, driving home from a long day of packing boxes, and it came on. Was I going mad? It was like hearing Greases Summer Lovin’ sung by a Danny Zuko from Cheshire. A song so catchy babies were born humming along to the chorus. I can’t help but feel that if it were sung by a bad-ass indie band, boys like Jake Bugg might admit to liking it.
Bugg recently winged that 1D are talentless and undeserving. That their mainstream success is a sham and that the public are being deprived of authenticity because they don’t write or play their own instruments. But who cares? A good song is a good song, right? Do their millions of fans care that they have very little to do with their music? They couldn’t give a hoot! Clearly they are part of extremely well executed PR strategies and marketing machinery.
What’s more, the boys are flanked by the best songwriters around, a sort of middle-of-the-road elite, and as much as it pains most people to admit, this hit factory has made a pretty good stab at three chord world domination. I think we should look at what they are actually doing, and rejoice in their one-size-fits-all music. It’s no Mercury Prize sonic experiment, but it does make a lot of people happy. That’s the purpose of music, to entertain people, surely? Their songs are uplifting, positive and wonderfully naive. They’re armed with good enough voices to sing live, just enough brain cells to give a good interview and faces so pretty the twitter-sphere faints over their selfies. They’re the miracle Cowell always dreamed of, managing to sound sincere, charming and actually appearing like nice guys, who you’d happily introduce to your mother. Who knows, they may be laughing all the way to the bank, and could be hiding more secret love children than Boris Johnson.
Back to What Makes You Beautiful, it’s undeniable, that the message of the song, boys can think girls are pretty lovely even if the girl doesn’t think she’s lovely, is a nice message. The gang screams the refrain, “You don’t know you’re beautiful, that’s what makes you beautiful.” It may be sentimental, written with dollars in mind, but, to quote Jenna Garecht, a14-year-old blogger in New York, “For three minutes and twenty-seven seconds anyone -- old, young, tall, short, skinny, heavy, British or American -- can feel absolutely gorgeous.” What a nice thought. This may lack the shock factor of the over sexualized and desperate pop industry, but if you asked me if I would like to see someone shaking their booty like they need a hip replacement, or being in love with the innocence of youth, I know which one I’d choose.
I have no doubt that in two years they will break up, and the bubble will burst, followed by a reunion down the line. One will have a good solo career, another will do a good Michael Buble impression, one will move to Miami and work out like crazy, one will go to rehab and we’ll forget the last one. But, for now, Viva 1D.
