There comes a time in every pop band's life when their career's appeal begins to pall. The sound of prepubescent squealing no longer draws them like a siren song. The prospect of another Saturday morning kids' show makes them sigh. They long to be taken seriously by people old enough to tie their shoelaces unaided. Thus does the long and usually fruitless quest for credibility begin.
Their former band All Saints were mature by pop standards - more hen-night karaoke than end-of-term disco - but Appleton still face a struggle for musical integrity. You don't catch Radiohead delaying their album because their kiss-and-tell memoirs have caused a furore.
Nevertheless, they're trying hard. Natalie Appleton seems to have bought her outfit from the back pages of the NME circa 1979. She sports Clash-like bondage trousers with a skinhead's Doc Martens and a Two-Tone style pork-pie hat. So have they opted for a synthesis of punk, ska and oi!? Sadly not. They've gone for a vogueish AOR makeover, already successful in convincing audiences that former R&B star Pink is not a manufactured diva, but Kurt Cobain with bosoms. Moneyed and content, Appleton cannot conjure even the faintest glimmer of faux angst to match the raging guitars, so instead sing about domestic contentment. They get marks for honesty, but have them immediately deducted for contributing to the EEC Bland Pop-Rock Mountain.
The fact that Sugababes recently walked off with the best dance act Brit award may say less about them than it does about the dreadful state of dance music. Still, they're looked upon more fondly than your average pop act. The trio clearly think this is because of their "credible" R&B leanings. They couldn't be more wrong. It's hard to keep your spirits up when they drag stools onstage and lumber through Mariah Carey-ish ballads, liberally decorated with the sort of flashy vocal trills that mean a single word can last a decade. In marked contrast, there's something undeniable about their string of brash pop hits: Round Round, Freak Like Me, Overload - proof that you don't need musical credibility when you have choruses to die for and hooks to spare.
