So, the 2025 BRIT Awards staggered forth, a bloated corpse of ambition where Charli XCX’s five nominations screamed of a generation suckered by TikTok tinnitus, Dua Lipa’s four nods embalmed pop in a coffin of blandness, and Coldplay’s latest trophy proved even the undead can still shamble to victory. Jack Whitehall, hosting for the fifth wretched time, fresh off the back of humiliating half the Formula One paddock last week, flung gags around like damp socks, while The Cure’s comeback landed with the thud of a goth midlife crisis. This was mean to be British music’s night of glory - instead it delivered proof it’s been lobotomised by its own spreadsheet.
I've often wondered why, given the incoming Oscars has it's counterpart of cynical mickey-taking humiliation in the form of the Golden Raspberry Awards, why the BRITS hasn't collected a group of weary middle-aged cynics like yours truly to come up with something similar. I therefore, dear readers, bring you the SHIT Awards - Britain’s answer to the Razzies, celebrating the absolute dregs of the 2025 music scene.
This isn’t about talentless hacks who never stood a chance; it’s about the overhyped, the sell-outs, and the ones who should’ve known better but still churned out steaming piles of mediocrity. As a 43-year-old still weeping into my Blur vs. Oasis scrapbook, I’ll tailor this for us nostalgic souls - plenty of digs at the modern pop machine trampling over the ghost of 1995. Here’s the inaugural SHIT Awards 2025 line-up, announced on this gloomy March 1st night:
Worst Single of the Year
Winner: KSI (feat. Trippie Redd) - "Thick Of It"
Why: Oh, where to start? This track’s a sonic car crash—an overproduced mess that sounds like a YouTube algorithm threw up on a trap beat. Back in my day, a single had to have a melody or at least a riff worth a damn. This is just a rich influencer shouting over a backing track that’d get rejected from a mobile game soundtrack. Makes me miss the days when Suede could break your heart with three chords.
Most Disappointing Comeback
Winner: The Cure - "Songs Of A Lost World"
Why: Look, I wanted to love this. Robert Smith’s eyeliner deserves a lifetime achievement award all of it's own. But after 16 years, this album feels like a goth dad trying to impress his kids’ mates—overlong, overcooked, and nowhere near the raw magic of "Disintegration." Britpop might’ve been a reaction to their gloom, but at least it had energy. This is just a nostalgia cash-in that forgot why we cared.
Worst Overhyped Act
Winner: Charli XCX
Why: Five BRIT nominations? For what? "BRAT" is just edgy-for-the-sake-of-it noise that TikTok turned into a cult. Back in 1995, we had proper rebels like Jarvis Cocker mooning Michael Jackson, not this pre-packaged “brat summer” bollocks. She’s the musical equivalent of a £15 artisan cocktail—looks cool, tastes like regret. Give me Pulp’s "Common People" over this any day.
Sellout of the Year
Winner: Dua Lipa
Why: Four BRIT nods after "Radical Optimism"? More like "Radical Opportunism." She went from promising pop star to a corporate playlist generator. This is the woman who once had edge, now churning out beige bops for yoga mums and car adverts. Remember when Elastica’s Justine Frischmann had actual attitude? Dua’s just a shiny cog in the machine now.
Most Pointless Collaboration
Winner: Central Cee (feat. Lil Baby) - "BAND4BAND"
Why: Two blokes shouting about money over a beat that sounds like it was made in five minutes on GarageBand. It’s the musical equivalent of a flex Instagram post—zero soul, all swagger. Compare this to Damon Albarn and Noel Gallagher burying the hatchet for a Gorillaz track. That had meaning. This is just noise for the sake of streams.
Worst New Artist
Winner: Myles Smith
Why: Rising Star at the BRITs? More like Rising Bore. "Stargazing" is the kind of generic acoustic slop that gets played in coffee shops while you’re trying to enjoy your overpriced flat white. In the Britpop era, a new artist had to have guts—think Supergrass or Sleeper. Myles is just Ed Sheeran Lite, and that’s a low bar to limbo under as it is.
Lifetime Underachievement Award
Winner: Coldplay
Why: Another year, another BRIT nomination for these perennial wet blankets. They’ve been coasting on "Yellow" goodwill for decades, and 2025’s offering (whatever it is) will be more pastel piano drivel for sad office workers. Back when Shed Seven were a punchline, at least they flamed out fast. Coldplay’s beige empire just won’t die.
The “Why Are You Still Here?” Award
Winner: Jack Whitehall (Host of the BRITs)
Why: Nothing against the bloke personally, but hosting the BRIT's for the fifth time? In 2025? Mate, it’s not 2018 anymore. His posh-lad banter was tired when Britpop was still on the radio. Bring back Jarvis or even Noel to spice things up—someone who’d actually scare the pop kids, not just crack dad jokes.
The “Too Much Is Never Enough” Award
Winner: Sam Smith
Why: Sam’s been at it again in 2025, doubling down on everything that makes you want to claw your ears off. Let’s assume they’ve dropped another single—something like “Unholy 2: The Reckoning”—a bloated, over-the-top ballad dripping with faux-vulnerability and a video that’s 90% latex and glitter, with vocal runs that last longer than a Radiohead outro, paired with outfits that scream “look at me” louder than the music itself.
Special Award: The “Definitely Maybe Not Worth It” Award
Winner: Oasis
Why: The Gallagher brothers finally buried the hatchet after 16 years of sniping, only to announce a 2025 stadium tour that’s less a triumphant return and more a shameless nostalgia heist. It’s a 17-date UK-Ireland slog (plus more globally) that’s already drowned in ticket chaos—dynamic pricing jacking seats from £73 to over £350, leaving fans who queued for hours with nothing but a lighter wallet or empty hands. Back in 1994, they were raw, electric, defining a generation with "Wonderwall" and "Don’t Look Back in Anger." Now? It’s a middle-aged victory lap propped up by a backing band of High Flying Birds rejects and Bonehead’s goodwill. The setlist’ll be a predictable greatest-hits parade—no new tunes, just a rehash of "Definitely Maybe" vibes for Gen Z TikTokers and balding lads in parkas. You wanted "Champagne Supernova"? You’re getting flat Tesco fizz instead.
So, there you go, a proper SHIT Awards line-up for 2025, dripping with the disdain of a 43-year-old who still thinks "Parklife" is the pinnacle of modern culture. These “winners” embody everything wrong with today’s scene—overhyped, undercooked, and a far cry from the days when Camden pubs and Manchester football grounds birthed the rock legends of my adolescence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to dust off my "Different Class" vinyl and mourn the '90s. Cheers!