Monday, 14 September 2009

Mommie Dearest

Madonna really pulled it together for last night's MTV Video Music Awards - her face that is. Like a shining light bulb or scoop of ice cream, her very-Evita appearance drew a remarkable resemblence to Faye Dunaway. I think a re-make of Whatever Happened To Baby Jane is overdue, with Madge cast as crippled Crawford and Cyndi Lauper can do Bette - it is the only chance she has left at another box office triumph.

The show does not air in the UK for another hour so an update shall follow later tonight.

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Madonna gave a stunning opening dialogue, it was a real one woman show, and hit a home run. I don't think she has came across as warm in years - her trademark glitches (the fly-caught-in-her-eye blinking, etc) did not stop her connecting to actual human beings since she last yelled 'not the one with leprosy' at the Malowi orphanage.

Below: Madonna has officially admitted to having a skull transplant with a tea pot - the announcement follows months of rumours after she started pouring out hot Enlish tea whenever she sid-bopped to Dannii Minogue's classic pedophile anthem Baby Love, which she rejected especially to give Kylie's sister a fighting chance of having a career in television.
Taylor Swift wins unanimous sympathy when Kanye West surprises no one by acting like a cunt: he graciously interrupts her speech but makes it clear he thinks Beyonce should have won best video for her physical web-cam shot promotional clip for Single Ladies. Beyonce grimaces and an out-of-shot Solange is busy on her mobile chatting to the Freemasons. Swift had just made the point about country artists rarely enjoying the spotlight on the VMA stage - something that obviously went over the head of West who claims he does not have his jaw in a twist about everything, that his jaw just happens to be twisted naturally.

Shakira steps out with a man-boy who has thighs he wants us to see by doing ridiculous leg poses we all do when we're wearing shorts. Their interaction makes me think I am watching Eurovision scores.

Below: not even hair extensions got in Janet's teeth-gnawing way, wearing an outfit preventing the still-alive Jackson from breathing for a whole 3 minutes (not breathing makes her feel closer to Michael apparantly, something La Toya has been vocal about on her blog in her dissaproval as she prefers to keep his memory alive by having more and more nose surgery).
Janet Jackson lip-syncs for her life and creates one of those most astonishing performances ever telivised - the mise-en-scene of Janet mirroring her brother's moves on screen behind her is my highlight so far. Her look of determination is warrior-like and puts most of today's roster to shame.

This post refers to a partly-viewed airing and shall be completed upon further viewing.

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Swift tackles her critics by performing her award-winning wacky brand of purity ring pop, but this is kids stuff.

Gaga
goes in for the slaughter with yet another jawdropping load of try-hard. She pretends to bleed for us, but sadly the only thing being murdered here is her Gwen Stefani tribute Paparazzii. She finishes off by spinning on a meat hook.

Below: Gaga suffers for her art by allowing herself to be slaughtered and made into burgers - she likes it rough.
Team player Nelly Furtado pops out to present the prestigous Larry Rudolph best female award, but my recording cuts and I need to record a repeat. Britney gets booed for not being there. Cyndi Lauper pops up in a pre-recorded skit synching to Time After Time. Pink flies, but Gaga's dangling beat her to it and Marie Fredriksson would like some credit. And we are done.

Diva Incarnate will continue to break news as it happens, or when Diva Incarnate can find the time to find out the news by watching it on TV.

Saturday, 12 September 2009

When Vocal Chords Are Gone, In Clive I Can Be Strong

Above: old queen Clive can barely contain his semi as Whitney Houston basks in the spotlight during a press call.

The new golden delicious Whitters video is her most poised and sophisticated clip ever - even Angella Basset would be proud. Lips tremble, arms flap and her zip-tight eyes, like glistening acid slitting through the skin, look simply gorgeous - whether staples are clenched behind her ears or not, it has done the trick. She simply stands, squats and points, but I can't take my eyes off her when she is lit so beautifully. Leaves fall as backing vocals rain down to give her assistance.



It is completely auto-tuned but it is still a towering vocal given how bad it must have got, and it feathers the air whilst being wisked by lush strings fanning her weave. I for one cannot wait until Monday for her Oprah interview to air - the same grilling she referred to when she blamed the talkshow host for singing like a battered cow going water skiing.

Below: even evergreen beauty Madonna gives it the thumbs up.

Friday, 11 September 2009

Tila Tequila Ain't Got No Shame

Above: with a name like Tequila everyone really does get a shot!

When I am watching E! News Live and some skank called Tila Tequila is filing a lawsuit against an NFL player and then Ryan 'SecretGay' Seacrest mentions she has a singing career, no further persuasion is required. But between Playboy, being 'Asian Cyber Girl of the Month', fake sex tape scandals, and presenting a bissexual reality TV dating show called A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila, she finally did some work by releasing her Avril Lavigne-esque debut E.P titled Sex in 2007 and has not stood upright ever since (only the ploughing Lipstick Flavoured Cherries is worth a shot).



Her snarling debut single is innocently called I Love U, but its main hook is the classic oral sex instruction 'you betta do it right or I'll fuck you up!' The song slides out the speakers like excess KY with a sensual monologue dribbling 'I just wanna let you know that I never felt ths way about anybody else ... but if you ever hurt me I'll fuckin' kill you!' Seemingly her patience snaps easier than her fake nails.

Below: between black guys and white guys, Tequila loves nothing more than writing it all down whilst getting wasted by the pool - Dannii Minogue finally has a serious rival.
A chorus of skanks start chanting the monstrous chorus like a female prison orgy without any batteries. The producer boning her starts rapping, but no one is listening, there is only one star on this track. The panting middle-8 is the only gaping moment she cools down but the grimacing tempo grind has more buzz than the contents of her top drawer and leaves a nasty, disorientating aftertaste.

Below: single number 2 switches it up by packing some bissexual heat.


The skankilicious Stripper Friends makes Lady Gaga seem like Mandy Moore. Basically moaning on top of a backing track, not even Jenny Frost or the hypothetical solo career of Michelle Heaton could compete with this trash. It is a cover of the 2002 Aimee Allen track.

Below: NFL skank-strangler Shawne Merriman holds up a preview.

Coming from a girl who dates lots of black guys, when she calls her next single Paralyze it is fair to assume she knows what she is swearing about. Showcasing the development of a great new talent, single number 3 is a ballad up there with Frankie or a PCD b-side, and she handles each new single like a new thing she might handle one after the other.

Above: Tequila's softer side certainly isn't from the front.

Tequila shows off her double-shots in the spohisticated shower-filmed video. If losing the ability to walk is the trade off for being a self-confessed chocoholic this girl knows how to soundtrack it perfectly - obviously if you are left on the floor unable to walk, with only an icepack for comfort, you are going to feel pretty shitty and write a song about it too.



Until her next album drops, featuring on Hit Rod's I Like To Fuck says it best:

I like to fuck sexy boys sexy girls
I like to fuck leather pants cherry curls
I like to fuck suck cock until I hearl
I like to fuck everybody in the world

Shot of tequila get em real hot
I blow the douche ride the hot rock
Squirt like a
Amase amasa mamatusa
Suckin on my titties so milky
I get dirty with it
I’m so filthy
Do it like you would to make a baby go milthy
If it ain’t yours you can still come and drill me right?

I Love You: download
I Like To Fuck: download

Thursday, 10 September 2009

Cyndi's Shine Demo Recordings

It has been literally ages since my last Cyndi Lauper post, so when I finally got myself re-acquainted with her long-lost Shine demos, of which originally leaked in 2001, I was insatiably aroused with all sorts of nostalgic endorphins. Kicking off these sessions is the curdled dance demo of Comfort You - this dark and world-weary track assumed a dance incarnation to begin with and was definately finished off properly for the album, but the cheap and ill-timed beats delightfully unhinge the song. Plus, knowing co-writer Jan Pulsford disapproved of even the final result, nevermind Lauper's ludicrously lascivious Cher-lagging aspirational demo, really adds to the enjoyment that the singer is pissing off her lesbian stalker.

However, the dysfunctional Lauper-Pulsford duo make another stab at it on Higher Plane, an unequivocal dance track that perfects the formula of The Ballad of Cleo & Joe from Sisters of Avalon. To hear what became such a lavish carnage and full-throttle affair sound so primitive, I think, reveals Cyndi as the creator of her own music as it adds a sense of seeing where her ideas come from.

Probably the most stunning song Lauper recorded is in actual fact a demo. Time After Time was something very special; it sounded like a direct lifeline to your heart. The song was written by Lauper and Rob Hyman - they wrote much of the best material on her grey 1993 album Hat Full of Stars, and of which, the thick blanket of midnight melancholia of Who Let In The Rain was an understated effort but it did not catch fire the way Time did, instead it flickered quietly and sounded almost ashamed.

Their partnership has always been a good match, but with Water's Edge it is another rainy spell and is well worth getting drenched for. The meditative album version is far from inferior, but there is no dense atmosphere to unfold like draping layers of emotion that Cyndi's voice commands a path through. Instead, the demo is just Lauper's snowflake vocals and piano creating her most intimate setting to date. Cyndi's understated ad-libs are added onto the album edit, which is the only thing missing here, but it's almost astonishing that she created a song equally as worthy as Time After Time and yet it remains relegated to album track status on an album that was only released in Japan.

Below: this remains one of Lauper's most unforgettable performances - it really seemed as if Shine was destined to become a triumphant return to the charts.


The rainbow-glow of the This Kind of Love demo is lush and wraps around you like candy-floss. Lauper delivers a gorgeous vocal that is suprsing in how suited it is to pull of rnb. If this were on Madonna's Bedtime Stories or TLC's CrazySexyCool, it is hard to imagine it would not have been a single. Its gentle air is perfect and when her feathers do get a little ruffled she still keeps her yelping mardi gras vocal under wraps just nicely.


Shine demos: download

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

And Then Some More Cyndi

Here is a rather makeshift post I just wrote on the cyndilaupernews forum that I think articulates my feelings on some of Cyndi's most recent studio albums in a better context than writing a faux-enyclopedia article:

I think Brink was her best collection of songs since her debut - I felt the same about Shine, and also Sisters. What all 3 of these records had upon their release were songs that could compete with songs that were popular on the radio at the time.

Circa 1996/7 we had Sheryl Crow, Alanis and Joan Osbourne all having big hit singles with songs that were folksy chills (One of Us=Hot Gets A Little Cold), vitriolic from a melodic sensibility (You Oughta Know/You Learn=You Don't Know/Love To Hate), or sultry ballads (If It Makes You Happy=Fall Into Your Dreams), whilst Cyn still retained a sense of her uniquely appealing eccentricity (Brimstone & Fire).

It is less easier to do this for the Shine era as music wasn't selling as strongly and there were less defined categories for artists such as Cyndi to slot into. However, it just so happened that Shine was revving up the same engine as her best 80s work. Shine the track was something totally different: the gallant vocals of her dance covers were put to use on a track that was unequivocally the Cyndi people would recognise, it updated her sound without being a disorientating shift of direction (something Brink alienated some people because of). The Anna Nicole tribue obviously drew flattering comparison to Money Changes Everything, but it was totally relevant to what was happening at the time - the design of 'mediocrity' as somehow qualified to be a 'star' was something Cyndi totally enjoyed ripping into, her yelps waywardly skidding between mocking indignance or sheer abandonment within the music itself. She even successfully dabbled in rnb with This Kind of Love, which could have been a TLC track almost. Not one but two aquatic misty ballads (Water's Edge, Eventually) and the very Cher-sounding Higher Plane. Considering how right Cyndi got all these tracks (only the deadpan Waiting For Valentino is the nearest to being an actual dud), screw Jan Pulsford for not getting this record.

Brink was even more contemporary than anything else she had ever recorded. Into The Nightlife hit you like a bunsen-burner - it was an all or nothing track (sadly the video was just a disaster), the loitering verses weren't much but the chorus was her most effective outburst since 'they just-a-wanna'. The stoic Lay Me Down was almost as good as the brittle tenderness of With Every Heartbeat (the Robyn song was very Cyndi to start with), with a really perfect vocal. The simmering stir-fry tosser Rocking Chair and the languid High & Mighty SHOULD have been amazing songs - as they are, they require better edits, being either too drawn out or lacking a tighter organised structure. Echo was similar to eurodance acts Livin Joy and Love Inc (who were Canadian incidentally) so potential was there. And Grab A Hold could have fit perfect on her 1st and 3rd 80s albums. Then we get the token ballad Rain On Me, which is even more moist and distilled than Time After Time, and swayed to the beat of Kim Carnes Bette Davis Eyes so dreamily.

Tuesday, 8 September 2009

Holy Smoke

Well, on one hand I feel dreadfully sorry that Cher's daughter was unhappy and waited so long to undergo a sex change op, but on the other it is brave and bold - something synonymous with the dark lady anyway. So here is Roseanne Barr's hilariously evil internet sketch series Cher & Chaz:



Watch the Sonny jokes go down in flames until he suddenly 'pops' up!



This is the best take on Cher ever - bring back Barr now.

Monday, 7 September 2009

Gala's Tough Love

After 12 years, it turns out Gala's new album Tough Love is devoted to balancing the contradiction contained in that title: the strangely sinister social undercurrent of disapproval is being fought, as well as the advent of love's catering assurance. Her caring discipline acknowledges the euphoria that should not be ignored at all costs.

Returning as a fully-formed update of Gala's past, the singer's sleek and determined androgyny augments her idiosyncratic poetic style and generates an even more rewarding musical landscape that finds inspiration drenched in vintage new york punk and garage disco. Gala soaks up music from all over the world most notably on I'm The World and the crisp psychedelic touches on You & Me, singing forcefully but with grace and amusingly indecent humour. She proposes a new template for relationships, to shatter uptight illusions of what is acceptable for both men and women and tangles herself in compelling scenes of high drama.

The sturdy dry-humper Do It violently jerks inspiration through impulse and grinning compulsion to ruffle feathers. It is even freckled with a sparse sprinkling of electronica throughout the verses, but finds most value from the grudging guitar forced to comply to her scandalously liberal views. Its angular melody creates a tense and visceral beginning: the dynamic fly-swatting lyrics can't resist taking quips such as 'people who don't dream are fucking dangerous' as if stridently taunting ideology-sheep. The album's thorniest melodies are at first challenging, yes, but become remarkably memorable once one has assimilated them.

The intensely vibrant and rabid He's Not A Man makes use of her roaring howl like never before. Her cackling performance triggers a lividly high-strung rant against having 'no guts disease' and fuels the album's most galloping energy. She is on luminous form here, and her ferocious spasmodic inhalations pack as much punch as her message.



Similarly, the hectic hiccuping first single Tough Love was initially a tough call, but my issues with this track have been totally worth it. At first I thought it was just noise for the sake of noise, but Gala demonstrates she does not need predictably glossy studio production to sound great. Instead, Gala really shines in these unsettled settings: 'you kill me my love' is tormented and her embroiled emotion thrives on such extreme poetry. The punchy brass and excited Nina Hagen intonations are more of a foil for her extroverted pop leanings of which delightfully prove to be superficially frivolous.



Gala smartly straddles between her new revitalised garage-disco and highly effective dance beats. Retaining her 2005 Greek top 5 comeback single Faraway, the creamy and smooth rnb production is at first slinky and positively melts like balm, but Gala's yelping chorus is stoic and tribal. Her predatory stance is a hybrid of lush, soft, angered and sharp emphasizations that are never hesitant to fully commit loyalty for a lover still haunting her - lyrically it is Let A Boy Cry la parte due.

DKOL's chuggingly flurried lust and bristling intent restores Gala's faith and luster: her gutsy vocal burns brighter than a bonfire; and social doctrines meet her sultry derision in a full on collision between desire, angst and guilt. Her lyrics gain arresting control and her beguiling mystery ignites with storming vigour. Those unwavering vocals glare and are delightfully upfront and tuneful. On this forthright rocker the singer dares her lover to declare a statement of social acceptance.

Her echoing yelp cries out to the global village on I'm The World, an insouciant groove appeals and speeds up. More of a mood peice than a genuine anthem, but 'feel its boom boom in your soul' is part of its likeable enthusiasm.

The slow-rising crooner Crying carefully emphasizes Gala's defiant hurt and its understated whim gives one time to breathe as her vocal dramatics take a back seat. A hidden talent for shin-grazing ballads sprouts out from nowhere, and 'you'll be crying, crying like you should' unearths tender humour juxtaposed with whirlpool piano keys and jazzy bassline thumbing the bruises.

An unexpected 'un-remix' of Freed From Desire really should not have a place here, and yet its disco-grunging grind is a fine update, not least with handclapping encouragement. Her signature anthem is explicity re-worked in order to achieve full control of her music. Whilst covering all bases, Gala simply retains her footing here.

The pouty truculence of I See Through You has plate-smashing melodrama embroidered into the stacatto piano keys. Screaching 'I just got my shit together' is ruefully hilarious and indignant. And a dance beat. with her bombastic excesses, it's neurotically humourous and ultimately enjoyable. an enthralling Italian interjection proves her as a highly adept dramatic performer.



Just when you think she can't slow down, the danceable ballad You & Me is Gala's masterpiece. One has to look out their window just to be reminded it's not 1980. It is the most effective presentation of her songwriting. The talented Italian chanteuse ascends to dizzying heights and yet it is remarkably the most tranquil song on the whole album. The rusty high-pitched guitar riff has the same rich texture as Siouxsie & The Banshees' Hong Kong Garden, which it vividly pays tribute to. Her singing is excellent on this track, with particular success as she wails into the sunset with weightless energy.

The swaggering No Doubt style scenario on Number 3 is almost too enforced for its own good, but her discordant delivery proves to be her grappling secret weapon, just about pulling it off. Not the album's brightest spot, it might be difficult to recommend, but it still fulfills her unique pedigree of abrasively eccentric romance.

She works up a sweat on the slitheringly septic-sounding proposal She Really Wants To Try It, with devouring vocals going insidiously in for the kill to inaugurate an inexperienced lover. Sharp steam plumes of percussion trumpet at intervals, signalling someone's buttons being pressed or rather coming undone. Gala licks her gums in macho pursuit - her mezmerising narration is lurid, lubricated and trashy, but is enticingly galvanising and indicates a distictively rewarding ending. Try it yourself.

Tough Love complies exactly as outlined: songs of adroit structure, emphatic tempo and untamed passion. Her strong-willed persona and proposition of unbridled glamour are truly staggering. Gala's long-awaited comeback exceeds all expectations, and her gutsy style achieves intoxicating results that will impress neophytes and fans starving for new material alike.

The new album Tough Love is available on worldwide iTunes now.

Saturday, 5 September 2009

Do Your Worst, Get It All Off Your Chest

Marcella Detroit's savagely dignified vocals yelp in familiar baby-seal discomfort on her 1996 floptastic anthem I Hate U Now. Taken from the sublime Feeler album, the track begins with her provincial viewpoint outlined with a seething monologue and a gulping bassline as a throbbing lump in her throat. Yet after this blistering soliloquy, Detroit's vocals take the higher ground and gain impowerment through the disenfranchesment of personal reflections. 'Back in the day', when the track climaxed with its splintering guitar solo releasing the internal excitement of rage, a backward head-tilt never felt so good.



Marcy never quite understood how to be a pop star, but this wailing godess of guitar soul remains a cult obsession of mine. Her album's are soaked in her expressive, plaintive and self-aware songwriting skills. Her composed solicitations may not have lived up to the commercial expectations of Stay, but Detroit is a singer like few others.

Friday, 4 September 2009

Celebrate Cyndi Style

Cyndi Lauper is not dead and I would like to celebrate this by writing a coma-inducing blog entry about her. Peddling her immeasurable talents with her old band Blue Angel, Cyndi's soaring yelp ignites into a wistful elation barely containable on their self-titled album's opening track Maybe He'll Know. The thriving, jiving Cyndi's vocal hovers, plunges and rises to majestic stature. Blue Angel were arguably ahead of there time, and success never happened. This track should have been their winning ticket and lives on in the 1998 movie cult classic 200 Cigarettes.

Below: Cyndi's meal ticket She's So Unusual has sold 16 million since it's release in the fall of 1983.
Move onto 1983 and her debut album She's So Unusual is a blistering and vivid collection of equally emphatic and committed performances. Co-writing the modern classic Time After Time, 80s corporate nostalgia found a song unable to be trampled on by American Idol, funerals and cynical charity commercials asking people who are not gay to give blood - it's a lifeline beyond commercial approach. She fires from all cylinders on Tom Gray's combusting Money Changes Everything, single number 5, and it increases in value with every listen.

Lauper's engine power here is more than matched on her first signature song Girls Just Want To Have Fun - whether her interpretation goes over the heads of most people, she reclaimed what was once a very misogynistic song and gave it irony, star-shaped sunglasses and city-dwelling morning conga-dancing that would make even Gloria Estefan cringe. Its unmistakably scampering pace flashes before your very eyes and one is left chasing after her to join the party.

The drilling electro of She Bop is a lurid sewer gauntlet, and first unequivocal dance track. Littered with instructive innuendo, Lauper hic-ups deflectively giving the game away, which is synonymous with many of her 80s tracks. These various Cyndi-isms are what Madonna would imitate on Material Girl, Like A Virgin and Open Your Heart: and the story of Madge fervently watching Cyndi perform at the 1985 Grammy's from the side of the stage seems not unbelievable.

Below: the pressure of not knowing when Sussanah Hoff's will re-record her hits finally got to Cyndi during a photoshoot.
Sussanah Hoff's of The Bangles fame recently revealed to no one listening that she would love to cover a Jules Shear song called All Through The Night as it was not a hit apparantly, except it was Cyndi's fourth consecutive top 5 US hit single: shame that, as obviously its melting sincerity needs a second rate Sheena Easton re-writing history. No video was shot, a decision made by a confident record company knowing it would be a hit even without one - I would dearly have loved this to have had a video as Cyndi has so few that are truly half decent.


Cyndi co-wrote the song Steady with Shear, which became his only dent on the Billboard Hot 100 at number 68. The scrambling hot mess Right Track, Wrong Train was the lead single's attractive B-side, and an old Blue Angel track What A Thrill was the second Cyndi track to appear on the Goonies OST, only released in Japan in 1985, and the yodelling Goonies 'R' Good Enough became her 5th US top ten hit.

Below: True Colours featured a cluttered array of guests, including goddess Aimee Mann, and yet was a remarkably elegant affair, and sold 12 million copies worldwide despite not producing many hit singles.

Her sophomore set True Colours kicks off with the statuesque Hi-NRG fireworks of Change of Heart: deafning drums like flashing lightning bolts strike vividly, Nile Rodgers on an equally glitzy bass groove, The Bangles on contractually soulful backing vocals and Cyndi making one not take any notice of them. Its stark clutter of aching melodrama peaked at #3 in the US yet was a disasterous flop in the UK despite shooting its candid video in London with unemployed people staring at her.

Below: lollygagging bopper Lauper danced in London all day to film Change of Heart's cinematic promotional clip.
She even hic-ups for the sake of it, like a baby cheetah yelping for its Mother - it is often the vulnerability of Lauper's vocals which was the appeal. And yet with a trembling and courageous performance she lifts all the weight here seemingly on her own. Its B-side was Heartbeats, which was merely an extended version.

The title track was her 3rd signature song, an exceptionally well-arranged ballad - Lauper's angelic and ghostly vocals assume an unseen quality of sympathetic tenderness. Not even the incredibly gifted singer Phil Collins could upstage her on his Babyface-produced version from 1998. Cyndi surrenders all oxygen from her lungs to finish this one off, sounding expressively strained like Stevie Nicks lifting Courtney Love as a bench press, before all anguish is gently dilluted with a return to her creamy delivery.

Above: a stunning 80s update of a classic Rita Hayworth pose taken from her original True Colours tourbook.

She re-records the Maybe He'll Know (MHK), which is to be the only track here to retain the brilliant sliced-and-diced organ that made GJWTHF so playful: it is to be a single, yet the adult-contemporary snowballing ballad Boy Blue is chosen instead, which stalls at #71 in America despite the profits going to AIDS, and in 1987 MHK is eventually released in Holland where it becomes a #41 smash. Male doo-wopping backing vocals from man candy Billy Joel are added, and an extra glittery 'Special Mix' originally intended for US radio appears after its sell-by-date on the B-side to 1989's I Drove All Night.

The temperature drops dramatically on the album: the smoldering glow of her debut has been frozen over. Cyndi recorded one particularly arctic acoustic ballad Heading For The Moon - sweeter than True Colours, it was relegated to B-side status for reasons unknown (Iko Iko is just hideously unwelcome in such knowledge). Lauper filters innocense and distress on her finest outtake yet.


The peroxide mare took another 3 years to follow up a record that was only successful for barely 3 singles, during which her film career bombed, the bullet-proof Hole In My Heart (All The Way To China) performed abysmally stateside despite not being in the country to promote it (Cyn was songwriting in Russia, but it went top ten in Australia), and well Cyndi seemed to take this very personally. It is said Cyn flipped when Hole fell flat: growing weary of recording commerical-sounding pop fluff, the anguish is evident on the stale-but-glamrous nature of 1989's pensive A Night To Remember.

Below: Vibes may have flopped harder than Rosie O'Donnell's flaps, but its soundtrack remains the most sought after collectable movie soundtrack.
It 'all went wrong' for Cyndi with the release of her third studio album, a collection of songs clearly designed to be hits: the sensual rock ballad I Drove All Night was an international hit, other singles did well in South America and the album was her first and last UK top 10 studio set, but in America radio would not go near her and the LP charted poorly there.

If True Colours had commercially trailed off in the States by single number 4 (the baffling choice of Boy Blue stalled at #71), it was at least a beautiful and well-crafted affair that was noted by music critics. She's So Unusual got 5 stars from Q magazine and True Colours recieved 4, but A Night To Remember was justifiably ripped to shreds.

Below: Lauper packs her bags and heads for the outer reaches of the Billboard Hot 100.


The album was a stagnant selection of mostly cynical attempts to cluster together 'Cyndi Lauper songs'. Four tracks remain worthy of rescue from the deluge of Bangles cast-off's. The lead off single triggered Lauper's deeper register and first glimpse of the soaring, bluesy been-around-the-block folksy vocal that would propell largely all of her recording since (even for her dance tracks), and is the closes thing to a visceral and intensely compelled performance similar to Money Changes Everything, but sans the immersed yelping.

The sturdy yet scrappy Bette Midler ballad I Don't Wanna Be Your Friend crumbles loose as Lauper's throaty stoicism does all the hand gestures for her - it is rumored Diane Warren hated her version so much that she personally put a stop to its release. The winnowing title track boasts a seductive vocal and temperature-rising bridges ('I feel your voice - haunting, me' is almost heroic).

Below: Lauper tries to forget all about the glorious hot mess Hole In My Heart by wearing as much slap as possible.
Finally, the adorable Unconditional Love. Desperately naive, a perfumed mist is created as Lauper's cradling vocal illuminates the skies with a terrific key change - the telling lyric 'got no sense of direction, now' scrapes the ground. This song could have rescued her campaign and given her another top ten in the USA where songs such as these were eaten up, but was adopted by bangladette Sussanah Hoffs on her debut solo album and became an international hit despite not even being released.

Above: Unconditional Love was released as single number 7 in Hong Kong, but was covered by crazed perfectionist Sussanah Hoff's, who recently admitted that Time After Time was in fact written by herself in 2003.

However, the idea of consensual and unconditional love requiring 'surrender' is a novel idea, but ultimately just misses the point. On the album's worst offenders, such as the dire Insecurious, she just sounds like a hand puppet, and the splintering disco-smaltz Dancing With A Stranger is savagely corportate songwriting at its worst. Whereas Lauper thrust herself into the wanton abandon of her debut, this album is devoid from any of her trademark character and vulnerability.


Between albums she releases the twinkle-little-star power ballad The World Is Stone, which becomes a massive #2 in France and bows at #15 in the UK, yet leaves no skidmarks in America. Similar in style to the single version of What's Going On, Tina Arena and Celine would have been proud Eurovision entries with this gem. It is a wonder it never appeared on her next studio set, which badly needed a notable selling point. Its B-side is the ballad You Have To Learn How To Live Alone.

Below: the 4 million selling Hat Full of Stars was written as a message to ex-partner David Wolff, and its meditative 30s inspired cover art later came into comparison with that of Stars by Simply Red.


Returning to full action after 4 hefty years of bad acting, Hat Full of Stars represents the proper stage 2 of Cyndi Lauper and presents the naked outline of an ambitious songwriter. For the first time Cyndi has a proper 'voice' in her songs and isnot merely interpreting those written by men albeit terrifically. The wounded estrangement of Who Let In The Rain is a divine suspension of stifled heartbreak and would streak if it were palpable.

Cyndi deals with difficult subject matter and all songs are autobiographical statements: her bittersweet passion takes a pleasing detour on the rueful storytelling of the rattling blues derision of the snearing Dear John, but snarling melancholia and the lingering damage of abuse tinge the edges throughout.

These nervy sentiments make an auspicious second debut album from Cyndi, and A Part Hate is a sensational lyric of social commentray ('hate me and hate you and proud of it too' is sung so viscerally like a sword going straight in - sometimes she can't find a vein, but when she finally hits her nerve the gushing can't stop). It manages to soundtrack the 'circle of life' in the African savanah with a cheerfully crass native choir soothing her inflictions.

Below: Cyn sells 6 million copies of her greatest hits and deliberately creates a cartoon image of herself to promote the CD.
After Cyndi Lauper's sensational greatest hits campaign successfuly reminded people who she was a mere 10 years into her career, her next studio album looked as if it could not fail. Given that 12 Deadly Cyns ... and then some recieved a belated US release a whole year later than in Europe, there were already signs that Sony were quite content to hold her as a heritage artist, to successively feed off diminishing compilation returns instead of fully supporting her artistic and commerical development. The celtic I'm Gonna Be Strong re-records a Blue Angel cover single and effectively tinges the project with the next phase of her 'I can really sing' singing style.

Below: the solid work of Sisters of Avalon ranks as one of her best albums and yet sold little over a million copies, and Lauper gives her producer a complex

And so Sisters of Avalon has all the qualifications behind it: Lauper's dazzling world-concquering signiture anthem has been re-invented with the post Hat Full of Stars stamp all over it, her demons have been cremated and with Jan Pulsford as her writing partner creates her most confident set of songs to date whilst managing to twist some of the same tricks as on its predecessor's best moments.

Below: Lauper says those earings 'weigh me down, weigh me down'.
Encouraged by her procuder Mark Saunders, she tanscends her novelty factor and offers the smouldering match-stick strike of Say A Prayer, the foaming-at-the-mouth gut-wrenching Love To Hate purges celebrity bile, Eurovision-wrothy stomper Ballad of Cleo & Joe, and her milky vocals on the high rise incarcerated trip-hop ballad Fall Into Your Dreams gives balance to some of the more eccentric numbers such as the girl-on-girl reggae of Brimstone & Fire ('I let her touch my shoulder and I didn't even scold her' has to be one of her best lines ever). However, Cyndi's diva ways nearly made Saunders quit music altogether: when asked if working wih Lauper was easy he yelled 'Er...I wish I could say yes...I really do. But if I did, I'd be lying'. Yikes!

Most fabulously, the skittish organ sound used so well on her debut, as well as True Colour's Maybe He'll Know, thaws out what was getting cold on the first single You Don't Know, a partly spoken rant against being a retard. The highlight of the album for me is the near perfect combing breeze of folksy lost single Hot Gets A Little Cold, with its simplistic statement of faith. Joan Osbourne's One of Us was always a song I dearly wished could have been recorded by Lauper (written by her former collaborators no less), and this acousitic ballad is not a million miles of the Sheryl Crow, Alanis, Sophie B. Hawkins and Joan Osbourne radio hits of the time.

Above: one might think Cher would stop licking her lips for 1 second and give Cynthia some proper publicity in 2008.

Instead, single number 2 was a rather eccentric choice, the seam-bursting title track - it remains a live favourite to this day and when Cyndi's trembling flame-flickering vocal gristles as she sings 'reverberating' and is the album's finest moment. However, released to radio it just sounds cluttered and like a badly executed lesbian anthem - it effectively killed any chance of the album getting out the gutter. Hot Gets A Little Cold was the only track on the album not co-written by Pulsford, which for reasons I shall get into when I reach the Shine album are retrospectively satisfying.

Below: Lauper is gently nudged out of her contract with a folky festive album containing half a dozen inviting numbers (Home On Christmas Day) and a few hilarious disasters (Minnie & Santa).
Cyndi parts with Sony in 1998 with the cryptically-titled Merry Christmas ... Have A Nice Life, which features the sophisticated Home On Christmas Day with a goodnatured vocal, and other original cuts Christmas Conga and Minne & Santa - both of which ignite vintage Lauper mischief.

Below: the outstanding Shine album was as vibrant as her debut, and remains arguably her very best. Yet her record company folded and the singer was left stranded to release a makeshift E.P until the album was set free in Japan.
To finally reach Shine, it was initiated by Cyndi to in actual fact record a dance album. This did not go down well with her Avalon co-hort Pulsford and let's just say these two broads no longer speak ('I just didn't get the direction and I think by then the sell by date of our writing partnership had expired' oinked Pulsford). Words went down, in 1999 Cyndi released her cover of Disco Inferno in preparation and dyed her hair purple (which Pulsford criticized Cyndi by remarking that she was just giving people what they want - sounds like sexual frustration to me).


Highlights included the gallant title track, revving up Tom Gray's well-oiled engine ferociously well on It's Hard To Be Me (written about Anna Nicole Smith, who requests to use it as her reality show's theme and is turned down), the very clumsy albeit Don't Tell Me sounding Madonna Whore, the TLC bee-stung vocal on This Kind of Love, the clunky dancefloor muscle of Higher Plane (which sounds like a Living Proof track), the glass sharp speed-ballad Eventually, Rather Be With You's eyesquinting gaze, Comfort You's scarred regret, and the almighty reunion between Cyndi and her Time After Time co-writer Rob Hyman on the sweeping Water's Edge which dillutes all confusion and drove lesbians crazy at some festival back in the day (I used to have the live file and it would prick hairs on my arms).

Anyway, the album leaked back in September 2001 and before that an array of dance versions were set free also, which unfortunately I no longer have. It is galling to be reminded of this as they were rather good if cheap (Gloria Estefan and J-LO would have been proud to have them on a 'Miami Remixes' style E.P).

Below: the competant vocal showcase At Last was an album of standards, accompanied by some of her most impressive photographs yet, and gave the singer her first US top 40 album in over 15 years.

The title track from her standards album At Last is a seductive after-hours ballad and of the finest recordings of her career, which can't be said for much of the other tracks such as her duet with Toni Benett. In 2003 Cyndi records one of her most compelling vocals for the Headwig OST on the track Midnight Radio.

Below: making do with record label negotiating, she agrees to cover her hits by putting the blame on other artists with whom she duets on most tracks.

Expenses are spared in 2005 as she takes the piss slightly with The Body Acoustic, and the thoughtful ballad Above The Clouds is more like lying on the front lawn with ants crawling in your hair. My hero Ani Difranco guests, as do many other less noteworthy talent and thankfully Kelly Osbourne's duet is canned.

Below: far from her first forray into dance, her unequivocal disco record is a flop despite the emphatic material being her most contemporary ever.
The Japanese top 20 album Bring Ya To The Brink was a redblooded re-awakening for Cyndi. The bursting adrenaline on Into The Nightlife defies gravity, the heavy flow of Lauper's exhausted euphoria on Same Ol' Story is ready to pounce, and both are her most bombastic entries since 1984. The sagging Lyfe may well be regarded as a let-down , but is the only track here that could be on any of her albums from the 90s onwards and burns from the same candle as Say A Prayer (hello again organs - you would think fans would make more of a big deal about Cyndi's Cyndi-isms littered throughout her records). Similarly, on the taut Digital Dog produced Give It Up when she sings 'turn it around' it's hard not to flashback to Change of Heart's memorable lyric.

Below: Cyndi thought she could scare gays into buying her high-volume single Into The Nightlife, but forgets to shoot a decent video (this still is perhaps one of the few decent shots).
The dreamy Livin' Joy-meets-Love Inc egg yolk consistency of the throbbing Echo ebbs and flows like a Hi-NRG True Colours, the pixilated trance blizzard of Lay Me Down out-spooked gym bunny Steve Nicks and coughed up disagreements with its producder Kleerup who retaliates with the diss track Thank You For Nothing using the same backing track (wake up and smell the coffee if you don't believe this). With a bleeding vocal, her world-weary indignation seathes out of the speakers as the pounding pathose sifts through her fingers - the melancholia is overwhelming as Lauper laments 'it's just loves despair'.

Above: Lauper's casual elegance was not matched by the material on At Last, but 2008's Rain On Me is so beautiful it could dillute an earthquake.

The spiralling disco of Set Your Heart was Kylie's Step Back In Time with a pulse, Dragonette ejaculate their wet dream for Cyndi on the very Shine-sounding Grab A Hold whilst managing to sound like her missing 1989 lifesaver, and Rain On Me is a whole new level of Time After Time.

Turn it around, give it up, and swearing like a shortchanged hooker confirms Cyndi has came full circle - her vivid songwriting is intact and her yelping commitment augments her spectacular full package. Cyndi is the real deal, y'all, with just the tiniest hint of desperation when she releases the phenomenal Girls Just Wanna Set Your Heart in February 2009.

Downloads on request.