Let them eat cake

Ellie Goulding is like a cake. From a distance you spy the ridiculous packaging, all blown-up and outrageous. Made out to be more than it actually is. Marketed as the 'Critics Choice' of cakes. Then you get a little closer, and it doesn't even look particularly appetizing. They've taken quite an ordinary victoria sponge and pumped gallons of squirty cream in there just to fill it out; to give it another layer which it doesn't even need. But you're forced to buy one because it's all the rage. Everyone you know is chomping on this cake at the moment, and you don't want to be left out. You pay for it at the checkout, pretending you're the toast of irony, when really you're just the bastard that bought the same victoria sponge as everyone else.

As you cut yourself a slice, you know it won't be as good as last year's 'Critics Choice' cake: this one's no ginger nut cake. That one may have been a bit of a fruit-loop, fed with so much brandy that even Mrs Scroggin's wouldn't know what had hit her, but at least it was truly deserving of the title. Tangy and rich, it certainly left you wanting more.

You slowly move the helping to your mouth, bite down and digest. It's stodgy, and a bit sickly, but the actual sponge isn't too bad. In fact, it's pretty good. But all this extra cream and jam...? You wipe it off, scoffing only the light, pleasant sponge.

When you see past the hyperbole in the media about Ellie Goulding, you come to realise she's not half bad. Nice enough pop melodies that include hints of pop, electro and folk. It's not groundbreaking stuff, but what she's meant to do she does well. But the marketing circus surrounding the release of her debut is a farce. I understand the reason behind a 'Critics Choice' record, but the artist has yet to prove anything worthy of such a high accolade. Under The Sheets is a good song, but if it wasn't for the Brits award would anyone be taking any notice of Goulding's bed-linen dramas? Of course, that's not to say that the recognition is not warranted, just that it's been dressed up as more than it is.

It's the equivalent of being force-fed that victoria sponge. Just a little too hard to swallow.