The shortlist is a little depressing.  I remember when the Mercurys were not just a Radio 1 playlist on a really shit day at work.  To be entirely fair to them, there are a couple of pretty decent picks, but they are somewhat drowned out by the stampede of abysmal cuntery from the likes of Britain’s very own walking ear infection, Amy Winehouse, and her depressingly uninspiring ilk.

Arctic Monkeys – Favourite Worst Nightmare – Just not a very good album.  There are some good bits, some cracking lyrics and some great riffs.  But this record is patchy at best, and they are verging dangerously close to becoming the new Oasis.
Dizzee Rascal – Maths and English – Token music for Blicks (please imagine heavy South African accent when pronouncing this).
The View – Hats Off to the Buskers – Token music for complete and utter cunts.
Bat For Lashes – Fur and Gold – This is not new, and it is shit.  Imagine a super-group made up of the best bits of Bjork, the best bits of Belly and the best bits of Portishead.  Then imagine the leftovers.  This is them.
Klaxons – Myths of the Near Future – Myths of Tolerability, more like. Nu-rave.  Gosh yes, dance music with a bit of guitars is definitely a brand new genre, never heard of before and entirely justifying its own classification and hysterical shrieking about the second coming.  Is this type of music not covered by the term ‘shit’ already?
Jamie T – Panic Prevention – Anyone using initials in this manner is a twat.  Fucking grow up.  He may not be an irritating mockney twat, but with a handle like that he certainly bloody well sounds like one.
The Young Knives – Voices of Animals and Men – This album is really so medium I can’t even hate it.  In fact I can barely be arsed typing this.  This is a prize, you fuckwits, not just a pat on the back for turning up.
Maps – We Can Create
Fionn Regan – The End of History – The inclusion of these two gives me a little hope not everything is turning into the NME Awards of Empty Indie Hysteria.
Basquiat Strings with Seb Rochford – Basquiat Strings – If you look, there’s always a nominee at the Mercurys designed to show just how cultured, obscure and judicious the panel are.  They also act like some token ‘intellectual’ inclusion to demonstrate the open-minded and inclusive nature of the awards that, much like the token ‘urban’ nominee, nevertheless completely fails to give the impression that anyone on the panel actually ever listens to either record.
Amy Winehouse – Back to Black – If there was an award for Punchably Unbearable Self-Obsessed Twattery it would probably have to be named after this raggedy old trout.  If you ever wanted to imagine what a sexually transmitted disease looked like in human form, you couldn’t go too far wrong if you directed someone to a picture of The Winehouse.  Provided you warned them that the emotional damage caused by gazing on her skeletal figure, gurning puss and avian-beaked visage was likely to require years of therapy to expunge, of course.  A one-woman erection assassin.
New Young Pony Club – Fantastic Playroom – Another decent choice.  Not my flavour exactly, but at least a little interesting.

So, I don’t know, what do you think?  Dross like Bat For Lashes, The View and Jamie T and the rather dubious selection of the Arctic Monkeys make it look a bit like a list put together on autopilot, without any real thought applied.  On the other hand, there are at least a couple of interesting choices.  NME be shamed, you have been out-rock ‘n’ rolled by the Mercury Prize!

Maps – You Don’t Know Her Name[audio http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/3/28/933060/Maps-YouDontKnowHerName.mp3]
New Young Pony Club – Fan[audio http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/3/28/933060/NewYoungPonyClub-Fan.mp3]
Fionn Regan – Put a Penny in the Slot[audio http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/3/28/933060/FionnRegan-PutaPennyintheSlot.mp3]
Arctic Monkeys – Put Your Dukes Up John[audio http://www.fileden.com/files/2007/3/28/933060/TheArcticMonkeys-PutYourDukesUpJohn.mp3]

A couple of mp3 files pinched from The Pelican’s Perch and Music For Kids Who Can’t Read Good.  Sorry lads, hope you don’t mind!