Taylor Swift - 'Love Story'
Once upon a time, I wanted to be a princess. I wanted to wear extravagant dresses and go to balls and dance with my Prince Charming. Okay, so I still want to be one. A lot. (I wouldn't have thrown a princess party the other day otherwise, and I certainly wouldn't have been the only one to dress up). But it has to be said, with my increasing maturity and wisdom-osity (what? It's a word!) I've realised that a pair of glass slippers would absolutely wreck my feet and the thought of kissing a frog has become slightly less appealing.
Why is this relevant? You might be thinking. Well, in short, it's not really. But basically the absolute megastar Taylor Swift has just realised a totally gorgeous song and she gets to play a princess in the video for it and I am just a tad(pole) jealous.

Pop music, as we all know, contains many hidden messages. Some are about sexy things, some are about naughty things, and some pretend to be very useful and important - and sound good in theory - but turn out to be about nothing at all.
First impressions are a funny thing. My first encounter with this song was when I heard it playing as I was browsing in a shop, and the only lyric I could make out at the time was "it ain't over 'til it's all done/listen to my conversa-shun", at which point I decided I was having absolutely none of that nonsense, thank you very much, and left. A day or so later, I was listening to the radio and a song came on that I really liked, and then the chorus rolled around, complete with the dreaded "conversa-shun" moment. Only this time, something was different - when I was paying full attention, suddenly it all made sense.
The problem with asking me to review the new Kelly Clarkson single is that I still have many, MANY grievances over the whole 'My December' farrago. For the record, I didn't think it was as bad as everyone (mentioning no names, Clive Davis) made it out to be, but it did always feel somewhat unfinished to me. Like it would have benefited hugely from the input of a no-nonsense editor who could've tidied up the lyrics and the song structure a little bit and turned the collection of messy songs with potential into the awesome songs they could've been. 'Irvine' and 'Chivas' were amazing, of course, but they were stuck right at the end and it was a little bit late by then.
In Victorian times, while the debate raged as to whether Charles Darwin's theories about evolution were sacrilegious twaddle or a breakthrough in our understanding of the natural world, there was such a high level of interest in the kind of strange animals being brought back from all corners of the world that taxidermist con-men would try and make their own. They would take the body of an otter, stick a duck's beak on it, give it badger stripes, maybe a hedgehog bum or something similar, and then claim it as a new species, or an actual mermaid, that kind of thing. 
Making a good pop song is a bit like making a good cake: you can have all the right ingredients, but it can still go very, very wrong (and I should know: once I made the world's most amazing cake, but ruined it at the last minute by deciding to hide a pea in it for people to find. The pea melted and my friends never found it, but did comment on the cake's "earthy taste").
There are some industry moves that are, to be blunt, so blatantly cynical that you can't help being a bit suspicious about them. For instance the sudden profusion of Winehouse sound-a-likes following 'Back To Black' becoming the biggest thing in the universe ever a few years ago or the number of young blonde women who appeared with saucy videos about the same time as Britney and Christina or the numerous (and for the most part, irredeemably dreadful) attempts to create a "new Busted" or "new McFly."
Do you ever get the feeling life has passed you by? In a flash, it has just disappeared, without you even noticing. You wake up one damp, miserable morning realising there's so much you've missed, so much you wanted to experience. You haven't seen the Seven Wonders of the World, or gone hitchhiking round South America, or ridden an ostrich, or got drunk with an Eskimo, or stood at the peak of Mount Everest screaming: "I HAVE CONQUERED YOU, WORLD!!!!"
Now, I've got a confession: the Pussycat Dolls have never really been on my radar. Don't get me wrong, I know that they're a global phenomenon, I know that Nicole is dating Lewis Hamilton, I know that it was 'groupies' but it sounded like 'boobies' and I even watched some of 'Search for the Next Pussycat Doll', but I've never actually taken them seriously. Well, you're not meant to, are you? Because if you are, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't writhe around half naked in every video and insist on spelling everything wrong (I mean, 'Stickwitu'? Really?).
It ain't easy being Lemar. The man has the weight of the world on his shoulders and as Fraser proved last week, he is
Well, this is going to be tricky: in light of recent events, it would seem prudent to avoid talking about Chris Brown where possible, but then I go and pick a song for review that sounds uncannily similar to 'With You'. Seriously: have a listen, and then try to tell me that you didn't have an urge to sing "and there's hearts all over the world tonight" after the first two lines. I know I did.
Taylor Swift is seriously hot news right now. Like, seriously. Already an absolute MEGASTAR in the USA (she broke records by having two different albums in the Top 10 on the year end album chart), Taylor's had cameos in CSI and Hannah Montana, been linked to Joe Jonas (of Jo Bro fame), is best buds with a certain Miss Miley Cyrus and, if all that's not enough, she's about to take the UK completely by storm.
Miley Cyrus is very famous. Very, very famous. Adored by pre-teens, loathed by hipsters, she's the star of Hannah Montana and, thanks to one very, very brilliant song on her last album, a pop star in her own right. She's also of course famous for exposing - dear Lord - her BACK on a magazine cover (I don't know about you, everyone but I've never seen anyone's back before so I was very shocked by all that) and having her phone hacked to discover that, like many teenage girls, she hugs her friends (again I was very shocked by this because I have never hugged anyone; my life is so hard) and recently because she may not have the most fantastic sense of tact regarding racial issues. Which actually was quite shocking.
I can only imagine that if you were to look up the word 'restraint' in U2's dic...sorry, rocktionary, it would direct you to the gaps in between their songs (and possibly to Adam's fluffy handcuff collection*). It's certainly in short supply in their actual music.
For a while now, I've believed I could be best friends with Britney. And I'm not just saying that because she is my all time favourite pop sensation ever (she is) and I'd give my right arm to meet her (I would), but because I think I'd be a Really Very Good influence on her. 
It's quite hard to think harsh things about the Killers, even though Brandon Flowers is clearly the proud owner of an ego big enough to orbit that of Kanye West, in much the same way that the Moon goes around the Earth. They might be cocky, they might be pompous, they might make pretty much the same song over and over again, and then dress in different clothes to try and confuse people, but you have to admire the fact that they try SO hard.
Before I talk about the song, let me start off by clarifying something: Alesha Dixon is officially the nicest pop star in the whole entire world, ever. We're not talking Nice biscuits nice (because everyone knows they're decidedly average), we're talking the sort of nice that makes boys want to marry her and girls want to be BFF with her. I've had the pleasure of sharing a cake with her (well... we had one each, at opposite sides of the room) and of asking her to tell me her favourite joke (it's "why is six scared of seven? Because seven ate nine"), so I am most definitely a Very Reliable Source.
According to their 

I've always thought that parentheses in song titles should be used with extreme caution, because they have a nasty habit of either changing the meaning of your song or rendering it utterly nonsensical. When I first heard about this song, months ago before I'd actually heard it, it fell prey to the first one: "what the heck?*" I spluttered. "So Beyoncé thinks all single ladies should put a ring on it, does she? That the only good woman is a married woman? Is feminism a dirty word to you, Knowles? EH?"