The first time I heard the name ‘Mark Ronson’, I think it was a radio play of his cover of Radiohead’s ‘Just’. It was one of those times when you take a mental note of the name and check their MySpace later.
Ronson’s funked-up version of ‘Just’ may be a stoke of genius, but his current determination to become a popstar is just getting annoying.
There’s really no need for Mark Ronson to go out and sell ‘Mark Ronson’ to the world. He’s already established himself as a heavyweight producer, performing mixing-desk duties for two of the most, erm, commercial female artists of today: Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse.
His solo debut Versions proves the point. It’s not the work of a popstar. It’s a producer having a bit of fun, interpreting his favourite English bands and singers. With the exception of ‘Valerie’, it was underwhelming.
But now here is… MARK RONSON, ALL OVER THE TV.
Last weekend he was doing his usual, half-arsed rhythm guitar thing at Glastonbury, and tonight he was doing his usual, half-arsed rhythm guitar thing at O2 Wireless. Except this time it was during Wiley’s hit ‘Wearing My Rolex’. Listen carefully: what part of this synth-laden, electro-grime composition was the skinny-suited one actually playing? Hmmm.
If that wasn’t enough to send the nausea scale off the limit, Ronson sounds like a boring, pretentious, narcissistic, mid-Atlantic tosser whenever he deigns to be interviewed.
The man is a gifted producer, and he may look cool and all that, but he’s a shit popstar. He needs to get back to the studio and stay there.