My Dick, 3OH!3

3OH!3 remind me of being at junior school. In the late noughties they released three solid hits; 'Don't Trust Me', 'My First Kiss' and 'Starstrukk'. Listening back to them today I realise that 1)I was naive in Year Five and 2) 3OH!3 were disgustingly awesome. The band's interpretation of electro pop and frat boy rapping was gross out, knowingly misogynistic and perfectly dance worthy. 'Starstrukk' is maybe their standout single, featuring Katy Perry's autotuned chorus and mentions of "daisy dukes". The music is SO ignorant, bombastic and sexist- it is the theme song of America.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) 3OH!3 never stopped making music. The Colorado natives of Sean Foreman and Nathaniel Motte kept the vibes alive. As I was searching the web for anything to distract me from the horrors of Brexit, I found it. A new song by 3OH!3, but not just a new song- the greatest song of all time. 'My Dick' (taken off their new album Night Sports) is about a man with an uncomfortably large penis gloating about his endowment, there is little to dislike.

The song is composed of multiple pastiched styles of rapping, from a Mockney accent, Sir Mixalot and Future. Every line is a loosely constructed simile discussing penile size, all with laughable hyperbole. (I sometimes question why I want to be a music journalist, moments like this restore my faith). The whole song is jaw droppingly sleazy, it makes me feel ashamed to be alive. However,'My Dick's slicing EDM beat is fantastic and would be at home on any Diplo album.

The chorus restores my belief in songwriting and simplicity;
"Everytime I look at my dick I'm like holy shit that's a big dick! And everytime I look at your dick I'm like holy shit that's a small dick!"
3OH!3 never left puberty, they are still sat at the back of the class belting out non sensical abuse at the nerds. They are the ones who manage to boast about the size of their penis, but inadvertently make it known they look across at you in the urinals. Bless them.

"No Indie, just House mate" Has music died?

About 15 geezers are stood at the end of the garden at a house party and the question is suddenly asked; “alright who’s going on the aux?”. Eyes dart around the circle as people excuse themselves due to stingy data packages, as someone pipes up that they have a “fire soundcloud”. He is coaxed to plug in, and his fate is sealed by the words “No Indie, just House mate”.

It has been a long time since the band were cool in the UK. You search the charts and you hear bland pop stars, faceless Tropical House DJs and Atlanta Trap. The masses believe that guitar music hit its peak in 2007 with Arctic Monkey’s ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ and that anything after that really cannot be beaten. Guitars aren’t cool and nor are bands, don’t think of playing anything other than Mr Brightside. For most, indie music should remain on the soundtrack of The Inbetweeners and for teenagers that spend their days in British Heart Foundation and evenings on Tumblr. The modern Brit teenager wants to spend their weekends huffing Nos bought on Amazon, not examining the relationship between Peter Doherty and Carl Barat.

Dance music is cool. Dance music is really cool. Although always a subcultural stronghold in the UK, within the past five years we have witnessed a shift in musical mindset. The default used to be guitars, now everyone wants to be shuffling. This Summer, festival goers will not be able to avoid any genre of dance, whether it be House, DnB, Garage or anything in-between- it is everywhere. The size of this year’s Culture Clash held at the O2 just goes to prove that there is a huge market for dance music. The uniform has been set; Nike TNs, shotting bags and something from Basement- and people are following it. E is on the rise, and so are the amount of Brittish kids skanking.

Indie isn’t dead. People may not want them at their parties, but that isn’t stopping them from popping up everywhere. From the all out synth//guitar mess of Yak, the melodic bop of The Magic Gang and the Reading based swoon of Sundara Karma- there is something special just waiting to go supersonic. It isn’t just the small bands that are paving the way for an indie resurgence, the torchbearers may come from the most unlikely of Manchester bands. 18 months ago I would have scoffed at anyone who claimed that The 1975 were anything but crap. But when you listen to their new album, watch their live shows and weigh up Matt Healy as a true indie hero. Maybe, just maybe they have the clout to knock dance music of their sweaty, streetwear podium.