7 posts tagged “women who rock”
Recently Hedwig and the Angry Inch was inducted into the AV Club’s “New Cult Canon”, prompting me to revisit it. I first “discovered” the film on a video tape I picked up on impulse from a charity shop, a couple of years ago. I vaguely remembered the film getting good reviews when it came out, and seeing a big glossy book about it when I was in SF one summer, but other than that all I had to go on was the blurb on the back of the box. The film kicks straight in with a punky little number called “Tear Me Down”, sung by what appears to be a drag queen dressed as the Berlin Wall, in the cosy setting of a family-friendly chain restaurant. Needless to say, it was a bit of a “WTF!?” moment, and I was hooked immediately. I couldn’t help wishing that all rock bands had the wit and visual flair of the fictional band rocking out on the screen in front of me, and that all lead singers could share even a tenth of Hedwig’s showmanship.
Still, there was something about the back-up singer with the beard and bandana that was troubling me... I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something slightly odd about him. As the film wound on, it became more obvious... he wasn’t a “he” at all, but a woman in drag... a woman named Miriam Shor, in fact. Apparently she’s been a part of Hedwig since it was a way-off-Broadway theatre piece, which explains why the three leads had such a tight act worked out. It’s just a joy to watch the performance scenes... scattered as they are through a tragicomic story that follows the rise of a young “girly boy” named Hedwig from the stark poverty of Communist East Germany to dime-store decadence and gossip-rag infamy in America. Serving as writer, director and lead actor, John Cameron Mitchell presents us with a profoundly sympathetic protagonist, especially for those on the margins of the mainstream, but it’s hard to stomach the way he bullies the benign, heartsick Yitzhak. I’m glad I upgraded from my old VHS copy to the DVD, because (among many other fascinating and illuminating extras) it features a deleted scene depicting the first meeting between their characters, and how within seconds of being introduced, Hedwig had humbled and housebroken his biggest fan. Shame, shame, shame.
It confused me a little to read the AV Club’s critic define Yitzhak’s ambition to join a cruise-ship production of Rent as a desire to escape into "comforting mediocrity". I’m not quite as avid a fan of Rent as I once was, but it’s hardly the toothless Disney cartoon that their writer makes it out to be. “Sodomy, it’s between God and me!” is not a line you’re likely to hear in the next Hannah Montana movie, is it? Or perhaps I’m just too easily shocked/impressed? No doubt if I’d been born and raised in a city with its own drag clubs and avant-garde art-punk scene, I’d be a little more jaded about such things. And I admit, if forced to choose between the two, I’d probably plump for Hedwig, because the grinding tragedy of Rent is a lot harder to take seriously post-Team America... but this small-town hick will still remember it as an exceptionally powerful piece of musical theatre. And you can take my signed programme when you pry it out of my cold, dead hand!
Another one from the vaults... I first saw The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the early years of adolescence, when it was first broadcast on TV, and it’s been a favourite of mine ever since. I’m not going to pretend that I understood all of the jokes and references... in fact, I’m not sure I understand them all now either, even after multiple viewings... but that was always part of its appeal. Growing up in a small grey town, it was an all-singing, all-dancing window into an alien world... a more colourful, more passionate, more fantastical world. As a drama student and wannabe writer, I ate it up with a spoon. In later years, at university, I would share a classroom with students who insisted that all fiction should be “naturalistic”, and consist of abusive alcoholics shouting at each other in dingy squats... which just strikes me as a waste of good celluloid/video. I’ve always preferred directors who toyed with reality, or ignored it altogether in favour of their own nightmares and dreamscapes. Leave the kitchen-sink stuff to TV, and embrace the phantasmagoria, dammit!
RHPS has its flaws, of course, no doubt about that... giving Dr Scott a wacky German accent actually undermines a pretty good scripted gag, for instance... but plenty good jokes survive, and ultimately the songs take the curse off any draggy plot elements (no pun intended). Richard O’Brien’s wordplay is always a joy, no matter how the original arrangements age. I strongly recommend checking out his contributions to The Return of Captain Invincible... if only to witness Christopher Lee’s evil mastermind, Dr Midnight, tempting Alan Arkin’s recovering-alcoholic superhero with a wet-bar, via the medium of music! “If you don’t name your poison, I’ll have to get the boys in, and you’ll never see another tequila sunrise...” Genius. The songs in RHPS remain rock solid, no matter how many punks take a swipe at them, and how many other languages they’re translated into. It’s a crying shame that O’Brien was so naive about selling the film rights to his stage-show, and ended up earning bugger all from the midnight screenings that confirmed its cult status, and the mountain of merchandising that continues to pile up on our shelves.
Speaking of which, the only piece of merchandising I own, aside from the published screenplay, is a figurine of Columbia, modelled after Little Nell. Obviously there are a number of very attractive women in RHPS, and Susan Sarandon was arguably the star... but for me, Little Nell was always the focal point. Frankly its hard to miss her in the gold sequin top-hat and jacket, tippety-tapping her way across the ballroom, but she’s also the most fun and exuberant character, besides having a voice that can cut through your ears like cheese-wire. And I mean that as compliment. I was delighted to discover that her solo singles were included in the boxset of CDs, but was sad to see how little material she actually recorded. If only she’d released a full album, at the very least! I could listen to her sing all day, and never get bored... someday I hope a mad scientist will create a machine that allows me to apply her striking strine to any song I choose.
RHPS was followed by a semi-sequel called Shock Treatment. Hampered by industrial action, the results are “uneven”, to put it kindly. The ratio of jokes to expositional blah is a lot lower, and the plot is far less coherent... but there are some fun performances, and thanks to the DVD player’s skip button, it’s possible to enjoy the musical set-pieces on their own merits... and there’s plenty there to enjoy. Nell gets less exposure (in every sense of the word) as a supporting character called Nurse Ansalong, but she does score a couple of good lines here and there, and another cheeky outfit to dance around in. Incidentally, Jessica Harper, who takes the lead role of Janet, would also be on my shortlist of Singers Who Should Have Sung More Songs. While the threat of a RHPS remake fills me with, well, horror, I wouldn’t mind someone taking another swing at ST. It had such a neat (not to mention prescient) premise, inviting us into a smug, all-American town which had been converted into a TV studio, with the citizens being drawn into life-altering “reality shows” at the whim of a shadowy sponsor. It could have been The Truman Show of its day... but funner!
Ah well, time for bye-byes...
Apologies for ripping-off the Kerrang! interview below, but there was so little material about the band on-line, I thought it was worth a scan. Oh, and they changed their name to "Fabulous Monsters" for legal reasons, shortly before disbanding for unknown reasons. Shame... they make me laugh, and there's too little fun in the music world these days. For some reason only the Japanese seem to understand that...
From Kerrang! circa 5/98
Words: Joshua Sindell
DUFF McKAGAN leans back against the bar of Los Angeles' famed Troubadour club and stares in abject disbelief. The object at the erstwhile Guns N' Roses' bassist's gaze? The three wildly dressed masked women on the stage gyrating madly to their own sound.
The fanged Vampire Girl jabs away at her guitar's strings, churning out twangy surf-rock riffs. Over on drums, the tall and green-wigged She-Zilla stands and pounds away, slamming her snare drum as her tail sways gently behind her. It's the final song of the Famous Monsters' set - a cover of the Cheap Trick chestnut 'Clock Strikes Ten' - and lead guitarist/vocalist Devil Doll beams as she watches her band bashing out the final chords.
The horned lass in the tight red outfit quickly thanks the crowd for their warm, if slightly astonished, applause and the trio swiftly head upstairs to their dressing room, passing their tourmates, sci-fi garage rockers Man Or Astroman?, on the way. Duff McKagan decides that this is his cue to depart as well. But not before the bleached-blond one hesitantly approaches Kerrang! with an important question on his mind. "Say," he says, a quizzical expression contorting his face, "wasn't Sean Yseult from White Zombie supposed to be in that band?"
The next day, we're gathered at the expansive Silver lake home of While Zombie guitarist J Yuenger. J has offered the costumed creatures a place to crash before they continue their tour up the California coastline. When the Duff McKagan incident is related to the outlandish trio, the Famous Monsters howl with laughter.
Devil Doll smiles a knowing smile. Sean Yseult - for it is indeed she, her corkscrews of lime-green curls tightly coiled under a red wig, plastic horns on her head and a pointy tail waving behind her - is having the lime of her life. For the White Zombie bassist, Famous Monsters are a chance to return to her trashy, garage rock roots.
A non-stop party straight outta the Crescent City of New Orleans, the Monsters have given Yseult a break from the Zombie's thunderous sounds and unbelievably lengthy touring schedules. For their part, both She-Zilla (Carol Cutshall) and Vampire Girl (Katie Campbell) claim that they've never heard of Devil Doll's other band - although they admit to having seen the movie of the same name.
Will this project cause any conflict between the two camps?
"I think there's room for two bands on this planet," notes Devil Doll. Her two colleagues nod vigorously in agreement. It's a rare moment of seriousness for the threesome. Famous Monsters refuse to be addressed by their real names or remove their masks. All three claim to hail from a planet called Monster Island, but say they've now "emigrated" to Earth. They have, quite clearly, superglued their tongues to their cheeks.
”We’ve come down from our Monster Island planet to try to inhabit Earth for a little while, explains Devil Doll with an impressively straight face. And play these songs that we just wrote a couple of months ago.”
”We knew that Cheap Trick were from here!” exclaims She-Zilla.
All three of the Monsters name the legendary Chicago band as their all-time musical heroes.
”We had a hard time finding a place on Earth that was comfortable,” Devil Doll continues. We finally came across New Orleans. It was just like Monster Island: a 24-hour party with lots of monsters, ghouls and drag queens.”
Vampire Girl: ”And fiends!”
She-Zilla: ”And graveyards!”
The Famous Monsters' sound is a whacked-out mix of creepshow instrumental themes and '60s surf sounds. Songs like 'Vampire Cosmonaut', 'Murder Beach USA' and 'Destroy Puny Earthlings' are rollicking examples of their single-minded (and simple-minded) pursuit of hauntingly good fun.
Famous Monsters first came together three years ago. Back then, they had a male drummer by the name of Frankie Stein.
They released a seven-inch single, 'Monster Girls... Are Go!!', on US indie Estrus Records and then promptly disappeared. Of course, now that they've emigrated to Earth they'll be able to put out their self-titled debut album in October on Bong Load Custom Records and take their creepy-music-for-party-people ethic to the world at large!
Devil Doll ponders her fascination for the surf-rock sound, eyes wide behind her crimson mask.
"Maybe, down in Hell when I was a baby, I got influenced by someone surfin' on those fiery waves!" she improvises wildly. "I dunno, is anybody dead from (US surf legends) The Ventures? I must have been raised on that music somehow."
That, or she's been inspired by the clutch of instrumental bands, like the aforementioned Man Or Astroman? and Guitar Wolf, who're currently burning up the club circuit in the US.
"I just picked up the guitar a few months ago and started writing all these songs, and I'm not really sure where they came from," she insists. "We might have had a satellite dish beam down some interplanetary sounds to us on Monster Island, possibly when Man Or Astroman? were flying by."
We'll take that as a 'yes'.
”I've been hitting and destroying things all my life," interjects She-Zilla, twitching restlessly, "and the drums were the first thing I could find that I could hit and not destroy!"
With White Zombie currently in a coma - what with mainman Rob Zombie preparing for the release of a solo album and a tour -this is the perfect lime for Sean, er, Devil Doll to express herself in new and unexpected ways.
"I'm enjoying (playing lead guitar) immensely," she says, fiddling with her tail. "I just have these little melodies in my head and it's nice to be able to play them. I'd played some of them on a four-string bass guitar, but it just doesn't make a nice sound. It's good to be able to play chords. And I especially like the whammy bar on a guitar!"
It's a beauty of an axe, too, with a glittering red finish and Devil's pitchforks printed all along the fretboard.
As for Zombie guitarist-in-residence J, looking youthfully clean-cut without his dreadlocks, he maintains that he isn't the slightest bit threatened by his bass-playing bandmate's move into his territory.
"Not at all," he laughs, happily picking at a guitar in another room of his house, decorated in eccentric fashion with dozens of fez hats. ''But I do think I'm the only member of White Zombie not totally into the surf music thing... although I do like it."
The Famous Monsters now have their claws extended and sharpened for mass destruction on a global scale.
"If we can handle the climate here on Earth we're going to stick around," deadpans Devil Doll, "because people so far have been very nice, and New Orleans is very conducive for our music. I think we'll be around for a least a year, or 10, or a100."
"But there's other things I want to do!" wails She-Zilla, tearing at her green hair.
"Such as?" asks Devil Doll.
"Well, I've always wanted to be a... manicurist! I love to rock, but I do have other interests."
Do Famous Monsters write their songs with a certain type of fan in mind?
"They're especially for teenage boys in Japan," replies Vampire Girl, her smile showing off her fangs.
Devil Doll: "We're hoping that Tokyo enjoys our music."
Have audiences been screaming out for 'More Human Than Human' or 'Thunder Kiss '65'?
"No," says Devil Doll, "but we keep hearing of this thing called 'Freebird'."
"All animals should be free," concludes Vampire Girl with an air of authority.
Have people been yelling out the name of Devil Doll's alter-ego, then?
"No, but I've heard a few people yelling out 'Godzilla' a few times," she grins. "They must like She-Zilla's Daddy a lot."
In Kerrang! 705, Rob Zombie talked at length about his solo album and his Zombie A Go~Go record label. Zombie A Go-Go is devoted to releasing records by surf-rock bands such as LA combos The Bomboras and The Ghastly Ones, but Rob claimed he had no idea what Sean was doing or of the Famous Monsters' existence.
"That's interesting," ponders Devil Doll, "Our guitarist J knew about it."
Our guitarist? Don't you mean White Zombie's guitarist?
"Right, right," she laughs. "And I later found out that Rob was trying to get a lot of the bands on the Estrus label for his label. But I don't think he knew who Famous Monsters were. Very interesting. "
With that, the three Monsters rise to take in what's left of the LA sunshine. We idly inquire where they got their fabulous costumes from.
"Costumes?" they cry in unison.
"They are our outfits," snorts Devil Doll. "We've been wearing them forever!"
"This is my favourite outfit," smiles She-Zilla.
"She-Zilla," gasps Devil Doll, "it's your only outfit!"
Discography:
In the Night!!! (1998) Bong Load
Around the World in 80 Bikinis (1999) Estrus
I was a bit of a latecomer to the Arular party, partly because my ears didn't entirely understand what they were hearing and partly because I belligerently refused to believe the hype. There's always a natural turnoff factor when all the music mags tell you that something is cool... because it's pretty much their job to build people up and knock them down... but even a broken clock is right twice a day, and sometimes these critics do actually know what they're talking about it. Thankfully, I've now come to recognise M.I.A. as one of the most exciting and innovative artists this country has ever produced. Also one of the cutest. Check out the "Galang" video and you'll see that on top of all that, she's a pretty nifty mover too.
In light of the warm welcome Kala received in America, and the subsequent appearance of "Paper Planes" in the much beloved and Oscar-nominated Slumdog Millionaire, its ironic to note that the album almost didn't happen at all, because Arulpragasam was denied access to the country (and the apartment where her demos and tape recorders were kept) because of problems with her visa. It must be very reassuring to live in a country where your native neighbours can legally stockpile shotguns, but pesky foreigners are prevented from getting their hands on potentially tuneful musical equipment.
I'm very lame when it comes to writing about music that I like, so forgive the lack of hyperbole... I just love her sense of humour, and the jagged aural edges, and the consistent culture-shocks that come from listening to the souvenirs of her global wanderings. Her music always reminds me that I'm part of a much larger, more complicated world than most mainstream pop-culture would ever allude to. Some people think "Multiculturalism" is a dirty word, but I disagree... especially when Multiculturalism rocks this hard.
Last year Regina Spektor cast a spell on me. I was in a local second-hand CD store, tightly clasping a copy of Luke Haines' Oliver Twist Manifesto in my sweaty little paw, when the "now playing" CD switched, and the shop was filled with the sound of a mournful piano and a female voice going "Dun-da-dun-da-dun-da-dun-dun". Intrigued, I stopped to listen, and pretty soon she was hammering her keyboard and chanting "Oedipus, Oedipus, Oedipus!!!" It was stunning. It was a revelation... almost a religious moment! It's always something of a shock to be reminded just how fun can be had with a single human voice and minimal instrumentation. The appeal is directly related to the charm and energy of the performance, and the captivating wit behind the wordplay. I imagine it must be quite an experience to witness the magic up-close and personal. Anyway, I rushed to the counter and demanded to know: "Who is this?" The album in question was titled Mary Ann meets the Gravediggers and Other Short Stories by Regina Spektor, and it was purchased as soon as he could eject the disc from his stereo... all warm and toasty from the tray. Apparently it was a UK-only release, to help us limeys play catch up, while whetting our appetite for more, and it certainly worked on me! If the music weren't enough of a hook, the bonus DVD soon had me smitten.
Back to the present: Miss Spektor has a new album coming out in June, and the first single (Laughing With...) has already been released. Now, I'm no marketing guru, but I'm not sure it was quite such a good idea to lead with a song that dwells on terminal illness, disease and hunger... because, frankly, it's a bit of a downer. It's a lovely song, and there's a payoff punchline at the end, but it doesn't exactly leap out at you as a classic summertime anthem. Thankfully she's sticking with the winning, stripped-back formula that characterises her best work though. There are a lot of great songs on her previous album, Begin to Hope, but sometimes I felt her essence was being swamped by the production... if that makes any sense. Since that first exposure a year ago, I've encountered a number of imitators... but they've all lacked her lyrical flare, and simply couldn't hold a candle to the one true Queen of Anti-Folk when she's firing on all cylinders. Bless her.
Get In by Kenickie was one of the albums I was given to review, back in my student magazine days, and I can remember being quite hard on it at the time. The problem is that their debut, At the Club, was such a stunning piece of work, that its follow-up had some pretty big pumps to fill. They don't get much play anymore, since Lauren Laverne became a TV presenter and DJ, but in their prime they could articulate the highs and lows of teenage life like no one else. They had wit, verve, sass, brass and strong, sexy Northern accents. In short, they had personality, and personality goes a long way. Sadly, at the time, I didn't realise how short their life span as an ensemble would be... I assumed that the disappointing second album was just a momentary stumble along the road to glory, glory... when in fact it marked the beginning of the end. It's suggested on the Wiki page, that their demise could be blamed on an ill-advised move to London... one might even say their careers went South, if one were in a punning mood. Whatever the reasons, there's no denying that the band broke on a fairly sour, and acrimonious note, deflating before their fans' very eyes. That, as far as I can recall, is why I ended up trading the album in... it was tainted, somehow, by the fallout that followed. Getting sunburnt whilst watching them lip-sync to first single "Stay In The Sun" at a Radio One Roadshow probably didn't help matters much either.
But now, in hindsight, I realise that even lesser Kenickie is better than no Kenickie at all... and by God, it's a billion times better than most of the pole-dancer pop that's being put out these days! One of the most frustrating things about Laverne's career change is that I have to watch her interview artists who could never even hope to write a song as heartbreaking and heartfelt as "How I Was Made". It's like watching Tiger Woods ask for putting tips at a Crazy Golf course! So, with the passing of time, my admiration and adoration for her former band has grown and grown... and I've been mentally kicking myself for trading that CD ever since! Strange to find, now that it's loaded into my computer for keeps, that I still remember almost every word of it! I can also understand how the electronic bleeps and bloops must have put people off, after the more rock 'n' roll Punka guitar-thrashing of the first album. The trademark harmonies and humour are present and correct, but there's something much more sterile and contrived about it somehow. I remember being especially suspicious, at the time, of the fact that there were less shared song-writing credits, although I'm not sure what that really proves. Overall, Get In is still a very, very good album... it's major flaw was simply that it had to follow a truly great album.
I went to see Emmy-Kate Montrose and Marie du Santiago (dig those stage-names!) with their new band Rosita, and was thrilled to be able to stand a mere two feet away from them in the back room of a pub. But, to my eternal shame, I must admit that I never seem to enjoy live music very much, whoever is playing, and they never got around to releasing anything longer than a three track EP, so it's hard to say if they had what it took to bear the baton. Apparently, du Santiago has joined an all-female folk group called The Cornshed Sisters, and it's lovely to hear them harmonising together, but inevitably their songs are a little less biting than those of Kenickie. It's a sad sort of story, really, with four young friends forming a band, getting signed, and then breaking up as the pressure and machinery grinds them down. But their music will live on in one form or another... and maybe someday their true genius will be better appreciated. They're just too damn adorable to be forgotten.
Tee hee.
Working my way through a blog loosely-themed around women with guitars, I’m learning an awful lot about the history of female fronted bands... for instance, I’ve discovered that women have breasts. Fact. And no matter what style of music they happen to be playing, the artist’s promo photos all start to look alike after a while, with the same cleavage flashing and pouty looks to camera (queercore and Riot Grrrls excluded, of course). I’ve also learned that while you can’t always judge a book by its cover, you can generally judge a band by its name. The All Girl Summer Fun Band for instance plays exactly the sort of peppy, pool-party pop-rock that you’d expect... while the songs of Seven Year Bitch are just as spiky and snarly as the name would suggest... meanwhile, any band with blood or a medieval weapon in their name are probably best avoided, unless you enjoy being barked at by Teutonic types.
So, what to make of a band called Fanny? Much like “pants”, the word is far ruder on this side of the Atlantic, but still... it must surely inspire giggles wherever it’s heard. In fact they were one of the first all-female rock bands signed by a major label, back in the old-timey days. There seems to be some dispute over who exactly can claim the firsties on that one though, as a group called Goldie and the Gingerbreads were signed to Decca in 1963, six years before Fanny were snapped up by Reprise. Sadly, none of the Gingerbreads recordings seem to have made it through to the digital age, beyond a few token appearances on retro compilations, so Fanny can at least claim to be the-first-all-female-rock-band-currently-available-on-CD. The Gingerbreads are used to being overlooked though... in the stinky days of All-American segregation, their music was too black for the white stations, and their faces were too white for the black stations. Oy. They did have one hit single, "Can't You Hear My Heartbeat", that reached #25 on the UK charts in 1965. Although the single was also released in the US, a recording of the same song by the heavily promoted Herman's Hermits was released with great fanfare just two weeks prior to the Gingerbreads' release, scuppering the gals' chances stateside. If anyone’s curious, you can hear Heartbeat streaming over at the web-page of lead singer Genya Goldie Ravan. The band broke up in 1968, but they reunited in 1997, to mark their 30th anniversary and to commemorate the release of The Rolling Stone Book of Women in Rock. A year later, they were honoured with the Touchstone Award for Women in Music. This distinction is given to women who "have the courage and inspiration to make a difference in the music industry and whose work has set new standards."
Meanwhile, Fanny’s hilarious moniker was part of their marketing campaign, as they posed with their backs to the camera for the cover of their self-titled, debut release, and promoted it with stickers which read "Get behind Fanny" or "Fanny: The End Of An Era". Pun-tastic! Of course, while we’re on the subject of band names, it’s always worth remembering that The Beatles have one of the silliest appellations of all time... they were a beat group, whose wacky wordplay didn’t stop them from evolving into (arguably) one of the greatest British bands of all time. But I digress. Fanny hit the US Top 40 twice, with "Charity Ball" (#40) in 1971 and "Butter Boy" (#29) in 1975. A reunion show was held at Berklee Music Center in 2007, where the band members received the Rockrgrl Women Of Valor award for their achievements. Rockrgrl Magazine folded a few years back, unfortunately, but it was a good read while it lasted. I’m spinning some Fanny (tee hee) even as I type this, and they had some great tunes. Plenty of organ and guitar, and a vocal style somewhat reminiscent of the mighty Suzi Quatro... ironic, since Suzi’s sister joined the group in their latter years as a guitarist (and apparently staged a coup of sorts, as founding members fell by the wayside).
Much though I love the way that fancy technology has since been used to warp and layer music, and the myriad ways in which artists have learned to warp and layer their stage personas, it’s still refreshing sometimes to slap on some music from simpler times... just a gang of girls playing their instruments live in a studio, and making music for the love of it... what could be better than that, on a chilly grey Sunday afternoon, while you hunch over your computer for warmth? There’s also something about the way women looked back in the Woodstock days... I dig the men’s style too, of course, hence the long hair and beard I’m rocking right now... again, I guess it goes back to how simple, natural and organic it all seems, through a rosy lens of born-too-late nostalgia. I don’t care if it does make me sound like a hopeless hippie... give me Grace Slick over Britney Spears, any day of the week! I’d better stop typing now, as I’m starting to ramble... and there’s nothing left to say, except: For those chicks about to rock, I salute you!
Factual data cribbed from:
And Wikipedia
And Wikipedia again
