Jack's Mannequin

The Festival Republic tent - Reading's third stage - is packed full of very small teenagers, all jumping up and down on the spot. Unlike with other bands, it would be a huge mistake to read too much into this. These are the teenagers every music lover hates. They know what they like and they will buy it repeatedly. They have no discernment, no critical capacity. In short, they actually know fuck all about music.

There are four girls stood next to me. They are trying to clap in time with the music. They can't even clap in time with one another. That is the kind of musical halfwit that Jack's Mannequin attract.

There are enough Coldplay imitators out there anyway, but rarely can Chris Martin have been ripped off so badly. This isn't a breach of copyright, it is positively defamatory. The music is the kind of tripe you find soundtracking every crappy American teen movie ever made. The guitarist and bass player call themselves 'Raw' and 'Dr J'. They both play Gibson Flying V guitars, thereby making themselves the least credible wielders of such an instrument since Wellington Womble.

I'm going to have to stop here. There just isn't enough vitriol in the world to describe just how bad this band are.