Britain bids a fond, Technicolor farewell to David Hockney, the only man who could make a swimming pool look more intellectually stimulating than the entire Love Island cast combined. Elsewhere, Taylor Swift proved that being the youngest woman in the Songwriters Hall of Fame still requires a marathon 21-minute speech—presumably to ensure everyone had ample time to stop caring. As the World Cup approaches, brands are desperately distracting us from the football with Susan Boyle and Kim Kardashian, while Ariana Grande reminds the White House that some songs are definitely not for public performance. Frankly, between £6,000 tops and unbreakable M&S tumblers, it’s just another Friday of quiet desperation.
David Hockney dies aged 88
Taylor Swift Songwriters Hall of Fame
World Cup adverts and celebrity culture
Dark Psychedelic Northern Soul-Folk
🎵 (s)Hit of the Day 🎵
Version 1
Version 2
📜 Lyrics 📜
[Verse 1]
The old man's painted splashes, now the colours start to fade
The council put a plaque up where the master's hand was made
He sent us Californian sun to break the Salford grey
Now the paint is cracking and the light has gone away
They say he was a genius, they say he changed the view
But death is just a deadline that the interviews must queue
[Chorus]
And the water in the pool reflects a face we can't afford
A perfect blue distraction from the misdemeanours of the Lord
We're swimming through the kaleidoscope, but darker shades remain
The canvas is worth millions, but the picture holds the pain
[Verse 2]
A pop star sings for twenty minutes, drowning in her tears
While influencers sell weddings to the suckers in the rears
A footballer's new jacket costs a nurse's yearly wage
While another weeping blonde fills up the gossip page
The White House spins a pop hit that the artist didn't choose
They're stealing all the choruses, they've nothing left to lose
[Bridge]
[Hammond Organ Solo]
[Verse 3]
A boy from films is dancing with a woman known for songs
A strange hallucination where the logic always wrongs
Another dead celebrity, another tabloid tear
The high art and the low brow are swimming in the weir
So buy the bridal budget range, and share the family snaps
While the ink on every tribute turns the paper into traps
[Chorus]
And the water in the pool reflects a face we can't afford
A perfect blue distraction from the misdemeanours of the Lord
We're swimming through the kaleidoscope, but darker shades remain
The canvas is worth millions, but the picture holds the pain
[Outro]
The picture holds the pain
[Violin fade]
Yeah, the picture holds the pain