What to expect from 2020? Well, a kazoo, cool sunglasses and a hard-boiled egg. Oh, in September “the oceans will morph into tentacles”. Yup, here we go again…
We’ve dumped last year: spaded in its brains and left it buried in rotting leaves in the forest of faded memories. We now face 2020, a year that shares its name with both (a) 20/20 perfect vision, which sounds optimistic and smashing, and (b) Twenty20 cricket, which is cricket and therefore rubbish. That means this year will either be like Action Man eyes, looking to the future with military precision – or it will be like standing in a field surrounded by meandering losers in grass-stained whites who occasionally rub rock-hard balls on their groin. Great.
In your new year brain-funk, no doubt you’ve already taken up six gym memberships, snoozed through 157 Headspace meditations, and reordered your rare vinyl into size of hairstyles featured on the cover art. Never mind all that guff. More importantly, what will happen in the electronic music world? Which synth stars will make a comeback in 2020? What new genres should we stream? Will that Tesla bloke invent a record player that farts glitterballs? I have all the answers.
Remember Lineker and the crisps, or Rotten and the butter, or Crazy Frog and Dignitas? In March 2020, the Chemical Brothers will launch a major advertising campaign for Twix. Paired chocolate bars make it easy for duos to share, which is why Yazoo won’t stop yapping about Spiras. Nathaniel and Percy from Erasure, or whatever their names are, often guzzle two-finger KitKats before donning their spangly jockstraps. Which reminds me, never poke Kate Bush with a Curly Wurly: she just gets confused.
In July 2020, Mariah Carey will launch a hostile takeover of the Moog corporation. The Minimoog will again relaunch, this time encrusted in sequins and only playable behind wafting silk curtains. The Moog Grandmother will be tuned 22 octaves above Middle C, ruining all of dance music barring a fortuitous Christmas collaboration between 808 State and The Chipmunks. Incidentally, have you seen Theodore Chipmunk and Graham Massey in the same room at the same time? No? Suspicious, right?
On 4 September 2020, Cosey Fanni Tutti’s cover of ‘Blue (Da Ba Dee)’ will hit Number 66 in the charts, where it will stay forever. In its sixth week at 66, the oceans will morph into tentacles and the skies will turn blood crimson, while our dead ancestors rise from graves in a rattling dance that is somewhat akin to, according to the Electronic Sound blog, “doing the hustle”. As our faces implode into endless vortices of darkness, the Earth will collide into the sun and the universe will begin an inexorable collapse into an infinity of nothingness. Then, in the seventh week at 66, everything will turn back to normal. Apart from the tentacles. We get to keep the tentacles.
What else will happen in 2020? Throughout the year, Gary Numan will say he makes his own bread, but really he gets it from Aldi. Steve Reich will sell out the Royal Albert Hall showing off his, and I quote, “lovely lady lumps”. The new music craze will be “3-step falafel-crunk”, which involves a kazoo, cool sunglasses and a hard-boiled egg. Gillian from New Order will lose her step ladders. She swears she left them in the loft. Maybe Bill at number 18 borrowed them. We’ll never find out.
Two weeks before Christmas, Basil Brush will join Orbital, but no one notices.
Crayon your New Year’s resolutions onto your kitchen wall and/or Smeg because you’re going to need them. 2020 will be a farted glitterball that will rip your sphincter asunder. Dark times ahead. But at least we have the cricket, eh. The lovely cricket. Good grief.
