AT the moment on a late-night commercial break slot on your TV, there is a cheap-as-chips advert running for a compilation album. The advert for Housework Songs, Vol 2: Spring Clean Edition features footage of lasses pushing a hoover around as well as clips from videos by Kylie, Yazz and the Sugababes.
The ad is over before you have time to go "was that really a compilation of songs designed to be played when you're doing the housework?" It also begs the question "how the hell did I miss the first volume?" This is possibly the most stupendously brilliant concept for a compilation album ever. Seriously, the person in Virgin TV who came up with this one deserves a raise, a promotion and a brand new swivel chair with its own deluxe footrest.
Of course, EMI/Virgin TV are past masters at the dark arts involved in putting together albums featuring Various Artists. They are behind such best-selling and long-running concepts as Now (75 million albums sold in the UK alone since 1983) and Best Album In The World . . . Ever and are always hungry for more. You can be sure if there's money to be made out of "Homework Songs" or "Gardenwork Songs", they will be first to the punch when it comes to licensing those tracks which best suit the concept.
The latest Housework Songs release features such bona fide dustbusters as Daniel Powter's Bad Day, A-Ha's Take On Me, Manfred Mann's Do Wah Diddy Diddy and Simon Webbe's No Worries. No James Blunt, unfortunately, but there is some Katie Melua who, we understand, is just as good when it comes to washing the bathroom floor and getting to those hard-to-reach parts under the radiator.
Leaving aside the innate naffness of an album of songs designed to turn housework into an enjoyable user experience (we are sure that phrase was mooted by at least one executive at the marketing meeting), Housework Songs shows you just how the record industry is dealing with a new business age brought about by changes in technology and distribution. Yep, they're doing their best to ignore it.
A couple of weeks ago, the industry gave itself a huge pat on the back because it re-invests some 17 per cent of revenue in new music. According to UK industry organisation BPI, record companies "invest proportionately more in research and development than the aerospace and defence industries, the car industry and even the computer industry." Indeed, the statement continued, "record companies are second only to the pharmaceutical industry in their commitment to R&D".
However, such boasting cuts little ice in an era when more and more resources are pumped into catalogue-pimping along the lines of Housework Songs. In fact, 17 per cent sounds quite low when you consider that R&D for record labels is A&R, the supposed lifeblood of the industry.
In so many ways, the major labels now function in the same way Real Madrid or Chelsea operate on the football pitch. There may be token attempts at developing their own acts, but the bigger labels prefer to use large record deals (and 17 per cent of their revenues) to sign proven hit makers in the shape of real talent nurtured by smaller labels.
The chances of a major label giving a just-signed act a couple of albums to develop its sound are well and truly over. Acts have to perform and sell right from the first single or they'll find themselves quickly slipping down the priority list.
In many ways, the licensing department who come up with Housework Songs are far more valuable to the label than the A&R department who fritter away cash on pointless "I want one too" signings. After all, an album of bands who sound just like, say, Humanzi will make much more cash for the label than a debut Humanzi album could possibly ever do.
Expect to see even more albums like Housework Songs in your local Tesco in the coming years. Watch out, too, for the special offers - buy the album and get a free mop and bucket.
