Damn those free offers. There’s always, always a catch. It’s those term and conditions that always do it. You know the bit that says, to the effect of – when it says free, what it means is free when you’ve spent about half your monthly wages on our other (slightly less well selling) stuff. Or free parking, but only when you spend enough for a small banquet in our (horrendously overpriced) Cafe, on the fourth floor, tucked away behind ladies fashionwear. Or there’s the buy one get one free thing you always see, the buy one being from the desirable goods pile and the free one anything from this stuff here, we’ve dug out of the stockroom, that is frankly unsellable. But, fall for it I do. Regularly.
On the face of it, a free download seems fairly innocuous. And it’s a good deal, I knew that before I went ahead and did it. After all, it was the first single from the New Zealand funksters recent Blackbird album, and album that’s gone to number one in their home country, and has been selling by the bucketload around the rest of the globe. It features nine tracks, and was recorded at Bays, the bands own studio.
And then I listened to it. It’s a glorious slice or rootsy, almost reggae influenced funk (that guitar – it’s like a musical pimp), so laid back that its almost horizontal. And it’s got some gorgeous memorable hooks that dig into your memory and refuse to go.
And then it happened. I’d been conned again. By the old get one free, can’t resist and so go and buy the other eight straight way off insert generic download site because I realise I couldn’t live without it. Damn you Fat Freddy’s Drop, you’re as bad as the others. It’s just I don’t mind as much….
Please, ordinary folk, try (if you can) to avoid being conned, here