Tuesday Tune: Years & Years - 'King'

Years & Years - King Hi Years & Years! Congratulations on your recent Sound of 2015 win! You must be thrilled! Over the moon! On top of the world! Now, why don’t you take a seat. Over here, on my imaginary Ikea pouffe. I’m afraid I have some rather bad news.

As great as your recent work has been (especially that upcoming single, King – it’s been stuck in my head for what feels like forever!) your days as a band are, alas, numbered. After an initial burst of success you will crash and burn; doomed to a future of halfhearted C-listing by Radio 1 and occasional appearances on US teen soap soundtracks.

Now now Years & Years, don’t take it like that. Put the pouffe down, it’s really nothing personal.  It’s just that, well, I quite like you. Yes, even the Blu Cantrell cover on your Take Shelter EP. And yes, even sort of your stupid haircuts.

You do well to ask what the fuck I’m talking about, Emre Turkmen. Let me explain. Unfortunately, heartwearming as it may be, my full-bodied support only ever bodes badly for upcoming musical acts.

Sinead Quinn. Do Me Bad Things. Siobhan Donaghy solo, both times, and then again with Mutya Keisha Siobhan. Former BBC Sounds of Years The Bravery, Little Boots and Corinne Bailey Rae (oops). Oh how I lavished my love upon them, only to see their careers wilt and die mere singles later. A causal link – POP ACT + ROSS LOVE = CONTRACT TERMINATION – is painful to admit, but blindingly clear.

PUT THE POUFFE DOWN, OLLY ALEXANDER. Bludgeoning me won’t help you now. You see, it’s too late. Think back, Years & Years, and realise your mistake.

I might have been lukewarm on the early Kitsuné releases; on the fence on as to whether the repeated vocal refrain in King was distinctive or hideous as recently as a fortnight ago. The nail in your coffin was the objectively very good video you chucked on YouTube last week.

I wish things were different, Years & Years. Were I only Ben Cooper at BBC Radio 1, or even (*crosses self*) Fearne Cotton, my unconditional adoration would lead to Platinum certification and the kind of overexposure typically associated with Coldplay, Gary Barlow and the hairy guy out of Queen. But I’m not. I’m Ross, and I kill music.

Tissue, Mikey Goldsworthy?