Tuesday, 31 July 2007
Yes indeed, the awesome and legendary Nina Hagen spits "the lies about HIV", hisses "starvation and leprosy" and spurts out "diet soda" amongst the many evils of the world as if her life depended on it to save the whole universe. Boasting a raw voice like an awakened Mother Earth herself; tender, jagged or an all-out shower of histrionic gutteral splatterings. The swaggering glorification of So Bad is akin to having a cannon ball fired straight in your face, it is a violent release of her distinctive lungs. Hagen's finely ravaged vocals extend and swell magnificently into full operatic charge. Conversely, the jaunty and hypnotic Abgehaun is one of the most sincere and intimate ballads likely to be heard from any icon of music. Despite this, none of her trademark over-excited delievery is at all supressed, there can never be any doubting her tirelessly unique persona as the track jangles and sustains a shimmering redemption. Her heartbreaking cover of Sunday Morning, Sonntagmorgen, could be the world starting over again, choking with sentimental lushness, her gentle cooing sharpens into the cackle of a whip as if hurriedly whispering to share some marvelous secret. Snowflakes falling down on Christmas morning could not feel more rapturous than this. Lastly in my small Nina celebration, another cover My Sweet Lord lures and mawks one into her glamorously grotesque death disco, a psychedellic fun-house that rounds out yet another roaring incarnation for a singer who also has one of the best dress-up boxes and wig collection to rival Cherokee transgender Cher. The world should stand still for Nina Hagen - a diva more mighty than her cult recognition serves her spectacular release.
So Bad (Utah Saints Remix)
My Sweet Lord
Like all above average, or otherwise, preserving dance divas (she sleeps in her fridge you know), Tina C wantonly opens the floodgates to her neverending suffering at the hands of yet another sadistic lover to have slipped through her cloying fingers, in a glittering toilet flush of faceless Hi-NRG trance. Like travelling through the foyer of her aching sugar walls, the poised verses are sombre and almost distracted with soft regret but cannot suppress her masochistic exhibition for long - she is only too happy to suffer so we don't have to, almost to the point of bragging. The euphoric chorus restores her fragile esteem by desiring the arms of an ex-lover, usurping into a surge of uplifting froth, foaming at the mouth with aspartame and painkillers. With such excessive melodrama showcased, Cousins is unlikely to ever meet this cad again and comforatably celebrates her 'distress' the best way she knows how - the power of song. Rather than smear her mirrors using her own unloved faeces, or anybody elses, the destructive raver wisely finds a more hygiene-friendly outlet for her hysterical depression - the Gays. Her generic dance version of Lene Nystrom's Pretty Young Thing is glamorously assured and rather nice it has to be said, one can almost feel the sensation of her needy 'love machine' tinkling with rejoice once more, that is until it all hits the skids again. Until then...
DJ Mystik ft. Tina C - Just Hold Me Now
Pretty Young Thing
Wondeful Life (Kenny Hayes Mix)
Thursday, 19 July 2007
There shall always be a place for Katie Price's unsteady, chaffing and shuffling 'up the duff' daft Eurovision theatrics in my gin-pumping heart. Her very memorable attempt to represent Britain in order to probably finish 23rd was like the final, wayward missile that she could fire at the time, and a concluding stage of her relentlessly ludicrous media gestures (not that she is ever going to stop, thank God). People say she is not talented - I prefer the term 'untalented at leisure' and love how she boldly depicts her life in vivid and lurid detail with such deadpan vulgarity, more people should be like Katie Price. Unashamed from start to finish, her instruction to "vote for me!" feels almost mythical, a wonder to behold. Watch her sensational moment of glory here.
Ever the gracious loser:
"I believe I was the victim of a smear campaign."
Not Just Anybody
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Well as some of you may have realised I'm back in LA! Yes, I've said it before... It's turning me into a complete whore, I can't believe there are so many Jewish men here who want to go on dates and sleep with me! I'm over the moon, have literally 9 meetings booked this month and lots of sunbathing to do. I'm size 12 UK and fucking LOVING it!
Talk about no interest in my music ...! This week has been 'crazy boys' busy! Luckily I came over with lots of condoms so it's been parties, meetings, lunches, dinners and of course ... starbucks! So, basically I have been settling in and making lots of new male LA friends, but last night I met someone completely out of the blue whilst I was just about to open the door to my fantastic new LA apartment. He was very sweet and slammed me against my door and fucked me senseless "like the whore I am" as he made me say repeatedly as he held the sharp edge of a broken S-Club CD case to my throat, then vanished without even leaving his number!! Not that I saw what he looked like as he was wearing a balaclava, the suspense!! Needless to say, I don't think there was much love in that negotiation ..... this is every girl's dream!
Anyways, gotta dash, I have lots of girlie things to do such as make-up, dresses, red carpet, etc, my life in LA is so very glamorous and absolutely manic - I've never seen anything quite like it! I'm really enjoying all the LA cock I'm getting. There were some very funny ones and some emotional ones too - it doesn't take much for me! There's been a few Brittish ones too, and uncut ones belonging to guys who probably aren't even Jewish!! Boy has my vagina been sore since I moved to LA!! Life is so hectic I've not even had the time to have my period this month!!!
I've also picked up a script for a film called "I Know Who Jizzed Your Tits Last Summer 3" which is meant to be brilliant - I hope I get the part of Girl #4!! As if that was not enough, I have a dinner date with the gorgeous guy I share a flat with, when I asked him what time he said "yeah, whenever I get back" in a very LA way that you might not understand. I don't know how I'm going to squeeze it all in!! When I'm not working, the sun's out, I'm catching up with old dates here and making new ones and of course, squeezing in a bit of shopping here in LA! Right, I have to go and get some man - very hungry! I'll be in touch soon.
From LA with love - "everything is beautiful!"
Rachel Steve xxxxxxx
P.S, hear the throb of my massive hit single Funky Dory - Rarely Vertical Vocal Mix. All my gay friends love it, they tell me like it is when I need to hear it girlfriend, keep me real and shit. Snaps for the gays being gay.
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
Maybe Flaunt shall play it if these male prostitutes are anything to go by:
I'll bet she needed an ice pack afterwards. When her waspish yet regretful vocals sting with the right material (Diva, Lola, Flash Gordon) she hairflicks into her own prestigious league of aloof yet spellbinding glamour, a proper artist of real calibre. Hakol is already, probably my favourite song of 2007, it has an uncertain, preoccupied pathos that is like Dietrich ruefully staring at herself in the mirror thinking about the troops or a frozen lasagne she has in the microwave. Love Boy ain't in proper English or owt, but if she is attracting famous Gay Jr. Vasquez to produce another song she has (You Get Down On Me, the dirrty tranny) then perhaps the global village shall be hers once more. Look how much of a bear Jr. Vasquez is, it is almost quite sweet in a 'I know we are both gay, but please do not touch me' 'obviously' way.
Monday, 16 July 2007
Pop music is a tricky puzzle that Geraldine Estelle Halliwell (born 6th August, 1872) has always found an embrassingly akward fit, and a rusty voice like a dog barking through a jagged muzzle was never enough to stop her from trying. A 'schizophonic' catalogue indeed, it is probable that her song Love Never Loved Me was Ms. G's very finest, its shifting and rotational (piles) production glides powerfully in plaintive spirit to perhaps a cummulative moment of 'shit hitting the fan' career clarity and ever restless self-pity. Ger's cut-throat bile/lyrics shriek down the chalkboard with ragged bitten nails, pushed-to-the-limit sincerity and push-up-bra bravado.
Celebrated by net-droids, tragic Gays and Gays who should know a lot better, for her esteemed 'feel the burn' desperation and shameless 'feel the fear' bin-raking exploits, her soul was sold on eBay only to be out-bid by serial dater Rachel Steve. Hagwell has had her very public strugles, her very public stagnation, and also her very public starvation - her pop metabolism has not had much to chew on as a consequence.
Perhaps Big G had disco constipation - if so, Love Never Loved Me was the greasy turd that finally slid out happily after months of waiting. Speaking of build up, Geri thankfully claims her urge to purge has been supressed, but maybe she just doesn't have the stomach for it anymore (literally). If Geri is not about to release this song anytime soon, why not give it to Dana International - it has a surreal, tender pathos that tranny-pop thrives on like prescription drugs and can transform into a triumph. Passion was not the disaster that most reviews made out, and here are the key album tracks I think are worthy to be added to any overspilling euro-pop playlist:
Love Never Loved Me
Surrender Your Groove
Let Me Love You More
Don't Get Any Better
Don't Get Any Better features the immortal line "fix my tits" which is every bit as horrendously brilliant as any fan will have come to expect.
Sunday, 15 July 2007
The legacy of Louise is a curious one as it is easy to overlook her immense achievements. Even Shaz Bags from the All Saints noted; carving herself out as a dancer rounded out 'The Nurd' as a Pop Princess performer that was "Britney before Britney" - it was with the legendary, drooling and hypnotic sex-romp fury Naked that truly set this slinky pop tart apart, providing hours of nationwide masterbation material for FHM readers and wasted no time appealing to the gays of a certain kind (i.e, the best ones with waistlines and stuff). Her mild blips would occur wherein the soft, quietly soulful voice either required her backing vocalists to take over the bloomin' songs (the spell-it-out Undivided Love springs to mind) or just failed to ignite a plethora of leave-it-out adult contemporary ballads.
Whatever, Louise was sporadically very compelling at her game, and the PG Rated Club Remix of Let's Go Round Again rapes the ears of any self-respecting giddy dancefloor whore, taking a peek from her top selling album Woman In Me (1997) peak, and has raw Italo-piano keys splattered wantonly like flies on a car registration plate. When she fails to deliver one completely switches off, but she can prove very effective on her high-adrenaline pop slams. With her next album Elbow Beach (2000) she worked largely with the same writing team, but needed to feed further off shore as it failed, beyond the hilarious 2 Faced People ("Hi Louise!"), to last the full stretch. An intense rush of sniffing poppers with the power of a Dyson hoover, and deluxe dancefloor sweat, Let's Go Round Again was her biggest selling UK hit, despite the mediocre chart placing as it stayed put around the hectic Christmas period, and this royal remix is a venture worth celebrating, highlighting a defenceless lead vocal that sounds slightly off-key in places and all the more dramatic for it - fans of Alexia's Almighty-remixed Uh La La La might enjoy a 7-minute opus that is equally hedonistic and magical.
Let's Go Round Again (PG Rated Club Remix)
Friday, 13 July 2007
Japan eats up pop music like Jodie Marsh guzzles the cum and pre-cum of low division football teams of legal and pre-legal age. This means they get their proper pop fix, including many tracks turning out to be proper single material, but also don't run the same sexual health risk-addiction as Lady Marsh because pop music is 'clean' and goes in through the ears.
Vitamin C generously gave this market two exclusive bonus tracks tacked onto each of her glorified studio albums: Vitamin C showcased the energised and sprightly The Only One (which I shall make available when I can); and More bestowed the downbeat highlight This Summer I which is about "probably dying" or something. Both are little gems of her poptastic talents:
This Summer I
Vitamin C's last single was a lucky-for-us UK release, and her efforts were rewarded with a top 75 'smash' - she has gorgeous hair in the cheap video, which is on youtube and is a 'mash it up' cover of The Strokes hit on top of Heart of Glass. VC's early stardom peaked with a starring role in the masterpiece original film Hairspray as Debbie Harry's spoilt daughter, and her vocal comparison to Harry's often smooth delivery make this an interesting choice. It is also one of the finest pop productions of the 2000's - the remixes were piss poor, but to salvage the lot is the Manhattan Clique Edit:
Last Night (Manhattan Clique Edit)
Two brand new recordings were leaked by whatever means on a myspace profile: Smash It Up is an older-and-wiser Smile, and Learning To Love The Enemy unleashes her trademark eccentric sensibilities. Take a deep breath and read my album review below, which is also up on wikipedia.
In her determined mission, these songs gleam in much the same confident, solid manner as her first album - it is just infinitely 'more' stylishly suffused with complicated, involving themes and advanced, varied and glamourous production values. Taking advantage of pop's very finest producers, the first single scrathed was The Itch, unveiling a distinct sexuality with a smouldering pur that stretched its itching vagina innuendo with welcome knowingness lacking from the so-called teen-pop boom of the time. Basically, she is responding to the inner-whore we all have in us.
Exploiting her benefit, and an effortless merge between experience and beauty (it's called glamour), Sex Has Come Between Us explores a glorious uncertainty and impossible allure in which entering a new phase of any sort can bring (in this case, the slag-bag has gone and slept with her best friend). It is too bad she croons implicitly "a boy and a girl" as one can easily associate the theme of confusion (and erotic conclusion) to androgynous questions of sexual awakening of a different sort - as it happens, the adrenalised atmospheric backing vocals and pulsating production accumulatively document mysteriously attractive feelings of trepidation, to irresistible and impulsive experimentation in a very sophisticated, magnetic manner.
Sex Has Come Between Us
It is possible to imagine She Talks About Love with its sunken instrumentation, hazy sunshine and glossy say-dreaming vibe, as her very own Holiday - it certainly recalls an adolistic abandon for all ages just like Madonna's summertime anthem. The strutting Dangerous Girl breaks free from being "daddy's little girl" with chimming celebration (fantastic use of bells - ironically soundtracking an orgasm perhaps?) - one can easily imagine this song being a much more assured older sibling to that of Rachel Steve's European hit single Sweet Dreams My LA Ex.The Britney-fied I Know What Boys Like was set for third release before Elektra pulled the plug on it. This is a snappy, trash-fest of the highest order (a woman in her late 20's singing this whilst pointing at then grabbing her rack in front of an audience of 3 year olds does not scream "innocence"). Feast your eyes on her brilliance with a live performance available to watch here.
However, listeners really feel the heat of Vitamin C's dosage on the vitriolic Busted which is possibly the closest to sounding like much of the vague hip-hop-but-always-pop aspirations from the first album, yet much more effective, colliding with powerfully squenced pronunciations and production as sharp as spears being thrown at you. She basically shoots her lady-load with this one.
The calamity wisely calms down for the smooth, floaty ballad Special which funnily enough feels like being transported in an air bubble. Recalling tenderly the trials and tribulations "to get to where I stand" she forgivingly looks back through soft lenses - it is sentimental and romantic, yet not sickly as lyrically she is just too aware to programme herself in a contrived way which would be easy to resort to seeing songs through cliched, stencilised eyes. That is what separates this album head and shoulders, towering and successful - her attention to detail.
Something of an ode to the frizzing, easy pop nuggets of the debut, Where's The Party slams the danceloor with adolescant defiance and is the most unassuming, crashing pop ditty on the whole record. Enjoyment does not fade on this CD.
The serene ballad As Long As You're Loving Me is her content exit and stands out as a the most conventional track of the collection. Picked up as the 2nd single, radio wasn't quite so cultivating - after the relative failure of its performance, label Elektra turned off the power of their commitment and the rest is history. Therefore, this provides something of a bittersweet parting. Vitamin C still records, but as the world has yet to formall here a bona fide 'comeback' album - though there are rumours and promises from the siren herself - then this is a timely reminder of what a magnificent, relevant, innovative and supremely magical pop star she truly is.
The deranged, alchohol-tinged delievery sets this tirelessly appealing singer's priorities wisely (rhyming the title lyric with the scream "don't leave your traces in my sink!") and so casually sings a fury-tale of post-calculated-one-night-stand conduct. She engages with her subject matter and suitor so blithely it is a feeling of shameless rapture. Intelligent wit wildly sets her apart, saying something for sexual consumption, that a mink is more substantial than any misogynist cad can afford. The track is glossed by a glorious guitar riff that has a rampantly ragged eccentric edge, and gains momentum as she offers sardonic escapism in spades. Let's bring Cristina back into sharp focus.
Don't Mutilate My Mink
With a name that conjures a not unknown poem, the gates to Siouxsie’s perverse playground appear open once more as it begins with a mechanical moan, like a long-planned invasion suddenly commencing. Littering the screem dazzlingly, la Sioux sings a sense of overcoming wasteful debris in life – the transformation is not necessarily musical, sounding like a delicious and striking cut from the almighty Anima Animus album. The accompanying video provides the perfect flashlight for her iconic features – a shock as always is received to the senses upon impact both visually and musically, and her legendary image, courageous music merging together in an eerie, shimmering and spectacular launch. Her strained drawl pledges faith in the face perilous danger, and renders a her forever beguiling allure a release unique to only herself. The mirror effect toys with the illusionary aspect to her façade, in the delicate clutch of garishly painted nails, it is an image that refuses to shatter. With her freezing stare or wanton body movement, Siouxsie is simply awesome when let loose and begins to awake to the music, a stormy expedition wherein she sounds as spellbinding as ever.
Siouxsie - Into A Swan (video link)