Showing posts with label Black Rose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black Rose. Show all posts

Monday, 28 January 2013

Black Rose - Black Rose (1980)


After the commercial success of Take Me Home's disco, it made sense to go in a completely different direction. Her local outlaw 1%ers biker club. Well not quite, but joining a rock band called Black Rose was Cher's most stubborn attempt to become a rowdy rock bitch yet, and the results are pretty similar to her two biggest 80s albums that were yet to come at the other end of the decade. If this were any other artist's career path, it would be easy to assume the singer underwent something of an identity crisis in the previous decade (identity crisis? nope, not this plastic surgery addict), but her meaty charisma anchors all her endeavors with a weathered conviction that always means business. However, literally no one was buying it. Cher and her boys hit the road, and the era was a (Bob Mackie designed) dress rehearsal for subsequent material. Cher certainly isn't afraid to enjoy hoots more than hits: the album Black Rose is more corny than thorny, and her ambitious fight for rock stardom let's all her delicious mannerisms off the leash for some of her most unrestrained/strained performances yet. 


With its jaunty opening, Never Should've Started isn't as prophetic as you might think. Cher's breathless opening lines are haunting and utterly beguiling (even if it lacks polish), until she swoops in with a deliciously (and let's face it, butch) "hoooooOOOOOH YEAH" which activates the track kicking itself into gear. Gurning and grimacing her way through the chorus, with her band chanting on back-up, it's a pretty melodic outburst. I don't think this has ever featured on any compilation to date, but if I were dividing her decades into separate discs, this would open my 80s volume. The song was lip-synced on live television, which might not have been the best way to prove one's rock star credentials (note: the performance above IS live).

Cher's quaking bellowing on Julie is a full-on, swearing, chugging pub rocker. If anything, I can get a fix out of her frothing at the mouth style vocals, but this is not exactly one to name-check as a career highlight. "You lying bitch" always raises a smile if nothing else.

With her biker mama imagery, it was a concern that Take It From The Boys would turn out to be the singer pulling a train (of thought). Although it's incredibly cheesy, the track is surprisingly energetic and unleashes some incredible phrasing from our old gal. Cher handles it like a pro, "no slack". More rock overstatement, We All Fly Home ("don't feel the danger 'cause it's the only fuckin' stranger") isn't as turbulent as it could have been. I rather enjoy it as a more spastic counterpart to We All Sleep Alone, in the sense that it sounds nothing like it and takes a completely different stance.

Mixing easy rock with being easy, 88 Degrees "signs a deal for a whole lotta do" and "it's so damn hot" thanks for asking. A meddling mid-tempo sag for sure, but she had to catch her breath at some point. Cher's sedulous rock pursuit is easy to mock, but duetting with her band-mate on You Know It is sincere enough, even if the sound is somewhat homogenized.  Crow-barring a gentle ballad into the mix, Young & Pretty "gives up that old routine" and frankly both Cher (1987) and Heart of Stone (1989) could have done with a song or two like this as a third quarter album track.

On an album of big and barely controllable and identifiable emotions, it makes sense to blow off yet more 80s power-pop steam on the album's climax. Revving up manufactured Springstein riffs, Fast Company goes down in flames whilst pledging to "drink the fumes". The flair, fuel and economy of the album is at its glossiest here, and unsurprisingly it's one of my highlights. The image of Cher clinging on to her biker lover going 200 mph makes me imagine her wig going flying way up into the sky. Glamour has no speed limit.

Moving on from the kitsch carnage of Prisoner, personally I find Black Rose an easier listen than both Cher and Heart of Stone even if it lacks the gigantic peaks of either album.  Whether Cher's behaviour created scandal is before my time, but lyrically this more CHER than her 80s/90s Geffen trio. She sounds rather liberated here. The biker babe bruised and used pop axiom sounds instinctive enough for the question of Cher's integrity to be nonexistent, and it's also more eccentric than its blockbuster counterparts, which is often the highest Cher value of all - it's a cocktail of aggressive rock (that never quite goes full pelt), but with transfixing camp fascination. I can only imagine this was never truly expected to be a commercial success, which makes the project seem all the more impressive.
















Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Kim Wilde - Snapshot tracklisting revealed

Here we are folks, the dream we've all dreamed of. Green-fingered goddess Kim Wilde has revealed the tracklisting for her covers album Snapshot and, as far as these stopgap projects go, it is not too shabby. You can be the judge:

01. It's Alright (East 17)
02. In Between Days (The Cure)
03. About You Now (Sugababes)
04. Sleeping Satellite (Tasmin Archer)
05. To France (Mike Oldfield)
06. A Little Respect (Erasure)
07. Remember Me (Diana Ross)
08. Anyone Who Had A Heart (Dionne/Dusty/Cilla)
09. Wonderful Life (Black)
10. They Don't Know About Us (Kirsty MacColl)
11. Beautiful Ones (Suede)
12. Just What I Needed (The Cars)
13. Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone) (Buzzcocks)
14. Kooks (David Bowie)


Originally released by the Triga-chic East 17, It's Alright reached #2 in Kim's main market Germany so I guess she is picking some clever songs. This version may be slightly tame, but it does the trick. Kim has recorded 2 other music videos: for Sleeping Satellite and To France.

If you can't wait for the album, try reading some of my previous in-depth, track by track Kim Wilde album reviews here.

Monday, 5 October 2009

Cher's Black Rose

Between flops, Cher's first forray of the 80s was as lead vocalist for Black Rose and the resulting album shot its arrow straight towards the formula all her Geffen albums would emulate. The ill-faited album catapulted the singer's rock ambitions, served as basic training and skidmarks the debut of the leotard.


Above: Cher's dramatic objections and vocal virility turn what have been merely an average song into an orgasmic helter-skelter deserving of a future high-profile compilation inclusion.

Cher's lustful angst has never sounded so ambitiously furious. Her chainsaw vocals rip the material to shreds, which works wonders with the undue haste on the stark power ballad Never Should Have Started but quickly loses grip of the terrain by track two. However, this opener is very worthy: a steady piano rocks out, Cher sings a flickering falsetto beautifully like a Wolf silouette romancing the moonlight, and her band's backing vocals are taunting heckles which really finish this one off. With spine-chilling piano tinkles, witch-cackling hostility and cat-hissing enthusiasm, it is by far the best on offer here - the lurid guitar riff perfectly pitches Cher's ballsy performance and the piano chases after her.

Below: the old squat-and-pout signature pose couldn't rescue the dead end BlackRose project, but she did at least finally get rid of some wind after having a really bad curry for lunch.
The heavy chugging of Julie is borderline embarassing - Julie is definately an upturned-collar polo-shirt-clad lesbian. Oriental chimes glint off the singer's triggering intent, but the chorus is only worth it if one enjoys laughing at the singer's husky, BFG absurdity.

Below: If Cher were a ranch, they would call her the Bar Nothing.
The gangbanger Take It From The Boys is another gutteral attack - pub rock fodder despite promising arrow-pull-back spiringing bassline. Cher can make even the naffest rhymes sound glamorous but 'they got you sipping dry martini on a rack, they're slipping out the back door no slack' is one not best served sober.

Cher turns into Captain Jack Sparrow on We All Fly Home - it boasts an engaging chorus and her petrol-gargling vocals are significantly amazing. Observing the declining calibre of sex partners at the bar, she yells 'don't feel the danger cause it's the only fuckin' stranger' - we all have needs after all.

Above: Cher's wool-swallowing vocals led her to decide her next fashion craze - the emergency crotch-yank jumper.

The meddling 88 Degrees is the second semi-ballad with more bar-tender 'tart with a heart' rhetoric, but they are tying themselves in knots with this trainwreck.

You Know It is an in-band duet - it is always great to hear Cher sing alongside a man, usually emasculating them, but both stick it to the end admirably even if the melody feels like the end credits to just about any 80s movie.

Cher's bear-hug charm makes Young & Pretty a familiar 'old routine', the music pines and she stays slumped into her pint glass.

The burly Fast Company closes the affair in elegant exhaustion - someone give her a made up phone number already! Doo-wop backing vocals hurry her out the door, Lord knows who with.

The album would not have stood a chance without Cher, and despite being a flop with her, it really functions as a warm-up for what would follow, although despite the cheaper materials the solid opener is superior to 100% of her Geffen album cuts - the husky wail once again unshamed.

Above: christ, it's the Miami Sound Machine.

Download