In the mid-80s any artistes worth their salt did a longform feature film that, ahem, ‘dramatised’ their latest hits, roped in a few guest stars, essayed some refreshingly amateurish acting, and got a limited cinematic release.
To which the nation invariably shrugged its shoulders and waited for Short Circuit 2 (“Some say he’s nuts. Some say he’s bolts!”)
The Pet Shop Boys did It Couldn’t Happen Here (“Tomato! Bacon! A fried slice!”), Macca did Give My Regards To Broad Street, Madness did one, The The had Neneh Cherry being threatened by a phallic train set…and so on. And so to Jerusalem, by The Style Council.
Here’s Paul Welly (sic) commanding the sea “thus I say go back” before joining Dee C Lee in the worst song he’s ever written. This has to be a genre that’s long overdue a revival. Surely it’s time for a Take That Hard Day’s Night-style romp? Or a Coldplay Joe Orton-esque satire on recession Britain?