Crazy Kiani's Quivering Commitment

Well-meaning dancefloor whore Mary Kiani's vivid ability to think allows her the most economic of emotional functions that is the envy of all registered dance divas of a certain age: her gift is to make up unrestrained personal sufferring, pain and tragedy all in her own inappropriate, lonely imagination in an attempt to revamp her brittle love life. These days Kiani rarely steps out of her high rise let alone get tangled up in real life dramas demmanding a release from social phobia. A brief period of interaction meant the misguided masochist would drive around Glasgow, scrouring for intoxicated civillians to "make up the numbers, ken?" in her short-lived club/livingroom called Slave before Strathclyde police shut it down and shipped her to Australia.

Kiani's keen will for self-infliction is showcased no better than on the unflushable floater I Imagine - a song she dedicated to an unassuming 16 year old Burger King 'employee of the week' who suddenly disappeared after numerous requests from the singer to give the terrified underweight teenage acne sufferer a lift home, until the store manager gasped "he was just a temp you crazy bitch" after Mary held a used tampon to the man's throat, dunking it on a half-finished Chicken Royale as she strutted out with as much pride as a 'pilled' woman with one broken high heel and 5 top 40 hits under her chaffing belt possibly can. Only a stash of straws and sachets of tarter sauce spilling out from under her PVC mini-skirt came close to taking this victory away from her.

The Motiv8 edits rub the necessary lotion into her rash of aggrevated hits that simply flourish with blind 'is she high?' faith. They are some of Roadway's most flattering treatments - her baffling plights given generous care and are elevated into largely forgotten mid-90s anthems of victim pride. 100% is an intense, glistening avalanche of quivering Kiani commitment, sang so exhaustively she must have collapsed in a wheelchair immediately afterwards (the singer is also famous for her numerous insurance claims). The romantic veneer of I Imagine tackles her issues with mental health and is sheer bliss to behold - she couldn't seem happier if she were shoplifting in Frasers like the good old days. Mary Kiani may very well be the "hard-faced bitch" I have read about on various Glaswegian fixtures, but God and the Gays sure love a tryer.


100% (Motiv8 Edit)
When I Call Your Name (Motiv8 Special Club Mix)
I Imagine (Motiv8 Edit)
Let The Music Play (Perfecto Radio Edit)

Note: the copy of I Imagine I have uploaded is an 'in the mix' file from a compilation CD that is slightly extended than what appears on the CD single format.

Not The Face McCutcheon

Xeonomania rugby tackle Essex's very own J-Lo Martine 'not the face' McCutcheon to the ground with a routine makeover. Sadly they don't quite seem to have as much fun tarting up Martine as a full squad would - what should have been 'a moment, a perfect moment' of comedy dance cheese feels slightly ropey. Her remixes don't quite immortalize her status but do justify rekindling a fleeting pop period of remixes that often drugged their victims up to the eyeballs - it was the 90s afterall.

I'm Over You (Xeonomania Club Mix)
Perfect Moment (Sleaze Sisters Anthem)

It's Britney, bitch

I love how Brits is no longer being coy: gone is the "oops" - now it is more like "fuck it!"

Gimme More

Okay?

Pale skin is itching under a neon-lit fever of twisted heartache that is spat out with venomous sarcasm and splendid vitriol - on Say Hello, Wave Goodbye, bitterness and being miserable never sounded so sympathetic and defiant, as if getting hurt is this weeks currency for being magnificent in order to rub salt into the self-inflicted wound. A mist of alienation sweeps past Marc Almond as his devastating vocal cuts right to the gore of tragic partings undeserving of keeping in touch - collecting his ravishingly majestic dignity from being a secret lover of perhaps a married man, Marc mocks his ex-lovers' self-loathing, allowing the cad small remorse, the timing of "take a look at my face for the last time" is the frosty icing on the probably poisoned cake. The Almighty Radio Edit luminates what is already a classic into a solid introduction for the unknowing.

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye (Almighty Radio Edit)

Bisexual-Vibe Brilliance

Enigmatic Italian pop myth Gala Rizzatto is something of a visionary, yet her songs are far from impractical and imbued with a keenly absurd intellectual spirit. Freed From Desire translated something so instant into music that is genuinely inventive to this day - her concise lyrics are sometimes bonkers yet always marked by an altogether elegant enthusiasm that many other internationally famous Italian pop stars cannot compete with. Even a rumored speech impediment that tainted her early rise, when many understood her chorus to be a stammered pronunciation of Bananarama, could not put a stop to her mission and the spirited dance diva went on to sell over 6 million CD's that sometimes came with a free jar of Dolmio sauce in specific regions of southern Italy.

The sadistic, gender-bending Let A Boy Cry was theatrically ridiculous enough to serve as an unofficial relation to Dana International's humble signature Diva, holding her sexually ambiguous nerve with an arresting, androgynously flamboyant manner, and contemptuous feeling towards bigots as well as baguettes (a 'no carbs Gala' resulted in a worldwide spaghetti standstill that Italy's tabloids have still not forgiven her for - the Rizzatto clan were also famously exiled after the corrupt practices of the family business 'Rizzatto Risotto' finally went public). After 3 delirious number 1's in her native country, her next single Suddenly could only limp to a pathetic #4 despite Gala's blasse pleas to her home nation that a glass-free 'Rizzatto Risotto' shrimp and fennel recipe would soon restore her family's repuation.



The controversial carbs stance meant an impressive new slim-line physique accompanied her recent musical comeback of sorts - the characteristically dramatic single Faraway did not fare well in France, yet proved to be a top ten hit in Greece where it was also bizarrely covered by a pop idol contestant who took it to number 1. No album title has been given, but clips are up on www.galasound.com: A Different Kind of Love sounds like Holly V's electro-craving Desire with added Cher-isms, but on a budget; Do It vents impatient primal energy; and many others sound equally promising.

Who knows what will happen, but her next move should it be fuelled by either a record deal or national forgiveness promises to be worth waiting for. Through her strained singing, Gala has always grappled with her vocals to make them more interesting, transcending her limitations, which soon became distinctive to her brand of dance and striking iconography. Such a rare capture of bisexual-vibe beauty and mystique, so glamorous and sleek with triumph, it has been nearly a decade since she has last released music in the UK. Here is a timely reminder of her 2 biggest hits.

Faraway

Freed From Desire (Radio Edit)
Freed From Desire (Allister's Full Vocal Mix)
Freed From Desire (Q.F.X. Full Vocal Remix)
Freed From Desire (Da Loops Hype Mix)

Let A Boy Cry (Motiv8 Radio Mix)
Let A Boy Cry (Album Version)
Let A Boy Cry (Motiv8 Floormungus Vocal Mix)

Heaven So High

The majestic vocals of dance Queen Marcella Woods are a thing of exquisite execution - they surf the rising wave of then-boyfriend Matt Darey's foaming trance in hypnotic fashion. U Shine On was the follow-up to their top 10 hit Beautiful, yet could only slot into the lower reaches of the top 40 at #38. The song has left it's mark and manages to continually cummulate its allure without ever dipping. The mesmerizing effect of Marcella is evident with Matt continuing to remix their first collab Liberation - Temptation (Learn To Fly Like An Angel) each year since it's 1999 release (#21) - his 2005 edit is possibly my favourite, edging further adrift from trance into almost Jason Nevins style dance-pop territory. The alternative Stuart Crichton Radio Edit of Beautiful washes itself ashore, stripped down to flamenco guitars strumming as if engulfed by a sunset. Marcella remains as poised, elegant, and morbidly regal as ever - if these two erstwhile lovers never unite on record again they at least leave an enchanting legacy.

U Shine One
Liberation - Temptation (Matt Darey's 2005 Deeper Edit)
Beautiful (Stuart Crichton Radio Edit)
Marcella & Matt Megamix

Edit: a further, final, song Voice of An Angel was released as an E.P, but I am having issues locating my copy.

Stop, slow down, take a deep breath

What a thrill - Vicky B's sunkissed dance-slam My Love Is For Real has finally splat and positively melts like Rebecca Loos in the arms of husband David. Sounding like Inner City's Good Life sprayed out of an aerosol can in the middle of summer, I would give it full marks, full stop! This is the most natural and relaxed she has ever sounded, "tingling" stuff indeed. Alongside the singer's 'rexia bags' My Love Is For Real was the worst kept secret she refused to unveil, that is until now. Highly recommended.

My Love Is For Real

Hit the floor, don't be so unsure

As promised, Vitamin C's Japanese firecracker The Only One is here to snap, crackle and pop!

The Only One

Deep Fill Diva

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You're My Gays Now

In 1996 a to be seen Queen and crimson Antipodean raider was on the hunt for gays and adventure - dance was survival. From Australia, Gina Gardiner took aim for flamboyant boys and men who had disposable income to extravagantly purchase CD1's and CD2's, and came ashore to Britain choosing Eurovision - a stage in front of the largest collective of shameless homosexuals assembled in the world each year. A lifelong fanbase that could only dwindle was assured, inspiring yet another Goddess of chronic ironic disco to spend the rest of her career trying to recapture the mercilessly fleeting continental spotlight and an unforgettable facade she could never live up to with diminishing returns.

In 1996-1997 she seemed unstoppable, and whether she has shed the final frayed feather from her by now knackered and a bit whiffy boa remains to be seen. A daunting challenge lays ahead, but her album Fresh! marked a vital landmark of dance diva triumph. A dying breed notwithstanding, you really can't tell when these disco Dollies are going to show up. Having sold her soul to Steve Roadway for the price of one astonishing album and a half eaten packet of bagels, she seemingly has no commercial currency anymore and a significant recovery looks unlikely with every Eurovision serving as a cruel reminder of one of its biggest icons - one has to be concerned.

Motiv8's lightly whipped centre provided the artificial flavouring more irrisistable than a drip feed of glucose is to a bed-ridden diabetic without any limbs. Eurovision 1996 was a Holy war of pop music for gays that defined their future clubbing experience for one whole year exactly - in the space of six highly varied-but-similar and dynamic singles she managed to instill faith instituting her order of continual attack - defenceless drunken gays trapped on dancefloors until they found someone they had not shagged before to go home with had no other option but to endure being raped by her rampantly explosive eurodisco. Exhaustion ensewed and discerning gay music buyers started to anticipate her ingratiating assaults and it was speak to the hand girlfriend!

These days Gina travels the P.A circuit in her caravan - once more gathering gay men (sometimes in gigantic terrified piles) making them sweat and swear to buy her internet-only albums which she happily signs using their own blood or scat. When confronted, these prisoners sometimes simply collapse under her force, a mighty proposition of neverending NRG proclaiming turmoil to consume countless individuals in their tens.

Fresh! was a beguiling mission to endorse her charms, vulnerable and effeminate men without a Father figure itching for a cause struck a chord and were soon instigated or else beheaded. Sometimes often dragging her victims kicking and screaming - with Gina G the whole gay scene changed forever. Her gay club crusades undoubtedly changed pop, spawning a Hi-NRG craze unseen in Europe in the 1990s. Gays previously considered as a marginal music market saw an explosion of brilliance - music was previously an empty void, but Gina gave new opportunities to act and look tragic just by buying her records. Gays willing to be stereotyped could now luminate themselves in a frivolous way that somehow mattered to them. The sun inevitable set, isolating darkness followed as a long and uncertain wait for her sophomore album began..

To this day the turmoil consumes countless net droids as well as the same gays who go to the same gay clubs ten years later, all dreaming that at long last Gina G shall return with a hairflick on the horizon, her Hi-NRG muscle once more ready to be flexed and collect a body count.

'Urban' Euro-Phlegm

Another glistening tidal wave of euro-phlegm glucose is spat in the face of an uncaring world that the Urban Cookie Collective gathered themselves to depart from as if transmitting infectious grooves the best way they know how, or else is a sympathetic anthem for minority groups who like dance music (Gina G also tapped into this almost unheard of niche). The sticky bassline steers the warm current as the sibilating icicle synths arrive in a gust of stormy grandeur. This was the Urban Cookie Collective's 3rd single, nudging itself to #18 in the UK, falling short of their previous top 5 chart successes and yet remains a classic of early 90s rave-pop. Diane Charlemagne stretches her oral walls to provide her trademark plaintive vocal delivery, spitroasted in amongst the raving torrid calamity she is the sober commentator - there were more than a few druggy undertones to this act's material, although their heavy-handed spiritual iconography finds a nice harmony as Charle's sweet voice was not strong but had a light, slighty frayed smoothness to it. The happy union between soft vocals and tame rave suggestion are showcased effectively on their debut album High On A Happy Vibe: Yours Is The Love, Dreaming In Colours, the title track as well as the 3 singles - The Key The Secret, Feels Like Heaven and Sail Away. The slightly poncey Rohan Heathe always seemed to take himself very seriously, not to mention doing a bunker with the royalties whilst leaving his abandoned bandmembers left to find themselves a lawyer or else a job in Greggs, but he was at least moderately hot if you happen to like broody skinny guys with penetrating eyes who like dressing up as monks in order to create an 'image'. Their fleeting chart residency might not have sparked a long-lasting run, but their legacy has proved to be long-lasting with numerous by-numbers dance compilations confidently tracklisting singles number 1 and 2 as if no one has ever heard them. Sail Away euphorically conveys contempt and frustration towards social prejudice, lubricating the soluction to expell, and richly deserves a sharper reverberating profile.

Sail Away
Yours Is The Love
Dreaming In Colours
High On A Happy Vibe

Love Louise Style

Poking through her pandora's box, the Nurd's most explicit hardcore 'slam' Shut Up & Kiss Me rallies her most raw reportoire and demmanding pop agenda to date, waging no regard for polite conversation or personal appearance, she just wants 'mouth to mouth' justice. In full-on pre-WAG audacity mode it is clear for all, not only how she bagged the sometimes delish dish Jamie, but that she is thinking outside that box of hers.

Shut Up & Kiss Me
Pandora's Box

I Will Be Your Hetro Baby (Part 1)

Not many men shall penetrate my online diva shrine, but Enrique Iglesias is welcome to enter like a friend with benefits is in a phone book - he is there when you need him. His music is a lot of things, but often a triumph of shimmering Metro elegance or else over-produced pop dimensions. To think his 'mainstream' breakthrough might have been very different had it not been for Gina G's wistfull flamenco flutter Ti Amo is a valid point. His 'debut' was a full stomach of often hard to digest romance - thankfully Metro added that rather special seductive gelid dancefloor teasing glint that defines half of his trademark sound even to this day with the recent hit Do You Know.

On Enrique it is clear considerable calculation had gone into the affair - Rick Nowells & Billy Steinberg snatch the pay check and dutifully deliver the precautious, albeit highly generic, I Have Always Loved You, Sad Eyes is a believably maudlin Bruce Springstein cover and Madonna's former collab-whore Patrick Leonard certifies the qualified mid-tempo slice I'm Your Man. Frankly, a cover of La Isla Bonita would have been a revelation.

On his own merits, if it had not been for the hot air of Bailamos, Oye Me is imaginable as his only other shot here at giving Ricky Martin any serious package-packing chart contention even if it is admittedly tepid and trite. 2nd single Rhythm Divine is the best thing here, dripping with flourishing beauty, and Be With You was an American #1. Whitney Houston's chemistry-free duet blows up in smoke and watch the video here to realize how alarmingly asexual Enrique can appear at times. You're My #1 is another pause for thought ballad wherein he tried for a second time to demonstrate his hetrosexuality much more confidently with Alsou, but this album version is a solo climax.

With Enrique, Enrique mounted a pop ballad crusade that shows the beginning of his grand construction as a worldwide pop idol. He would find a more fitting persona in his subsequently more polished albums, but this record offers an innocent contrived charm and even contains the odd gem or otherwise sporadic glimpse of a performer poised for a grander scale.

Rhythm Divine
Be With You
I'm Your Man
Bailamos

Goddess of Gutteral Splattering

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
So Bad (Utah Saints Remix)
Sonntagmorgen
Abgehaun
My Sweet Lord
Ave Maria

Doormat Diva

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)

Fall With Me Into Temptation

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

Rachel's Diary

Hey Everybody!

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.

Always a Diva

It seems after a bit of a slump of sorts, Dana International is once more 'back in business' in Israel at least. After signing a new deal, Hakol Ze Letova was released (a tender ballad, on a bit of a 'torch song bender' with a disco beat to set it sail inside her artificial womb if she has one), but her next single, the teasing Love Boy is apparently doing very well on the radio before its release and that of an untitled new album.

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.

DiscoBlister

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
Superstar
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.

PG-Rated Fierce

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)