31 May 2001

FEMINISM – WHAT FEMINISM

FEMINISM – WHAT FEMINISM

Oh music, let me count the ways I hate you. Not only are you content with rattling on in every pub I atttempt to pickle myself in, but you enviegle your way into adverts, television even cinema. Why I believe even now some Australian knobnose is trying to reinvent that most hateful genre of movie – the musical. When said person was also the man responsible for Sunscreen (a joke which wasn’t funny before it was even written) I get angry. When he is also the guilty party for turning a Shakespeare tragedy into a fucking worldwide disaster by playing Radiohead, The Cardigans and The Wannadies on the soundtrack – well lets just say you wouldn’t like me when I’m that angry.

You probably wouldn’t like me anyway.

So Moulin Rouge then – an update no doubt of Rod Hull and Emu’s Pink Windmill Show. I can only assume Ewan MacGregor is playing Emu and Nicole Kidman is Grotbags. Needless to say I will be avoiding it like the AA group.But already there is a sally put forth, one which makes me shudder to even think about it. You see I am a liberated woman. I fight my own fights (needless to say I start most of them too). I am seen as an equal in my line of work, in my social group and I hope in the microcosm of civilization which is the gin drinking scene of central London. I certainly do not need special consideration merely because I am a woman. But no, Mr Luhrrrmmmaaaaannnn (sick) feels that we should return to a bygone age and along with his coven of R&B crones is trying to take us back there. Let us look as these witches in full.

Lil’ Kim. Save the best til first I say, and Lil Kim is easily my favourite. Mainly because her modus operandi is spelt out from the get go. She is Lil. I am only the other hand sufficiently big. She is therefore only twelve seconds away from two drops and a submission.

Mya: Sorry, did you just sneeze?

Pink: Now this blob of candy floss with sunglasses really gets my goat. What kind of sister is she that she decided to change her name to the one colour which is keeping us battered down in our sexist corner? As long as the world keeps putting women in the mental box coloured pink and full of fluffy kittens they will never realise that we can easily be the equal in swearing, farting and ripping the heads off of puppies. Frankly she makes me sick.

Christina Aguillera: Where to start with Tina? I have a friend (who is unsurprisingly male) who believes that she has been sent back from the future by Skynet to destroy the planet with he sub-Brittany Spears (!) robot warblings. Me – I just think she is crap and looks like John Travolta in Battlefield Earth (cheers Ned).

So already the evil has been unleashed on the land. And their weapon of choice* ? Why a piss poor cover of one of the most offensive anti-feminist songs ever. Lady Marmalade. Come on – what’s so bleeding tough about marmalade that we need a special Ladies version? Certainly Orange Shred can be a bit sharp first thing in the morning, but giving us a watered down version is just pandering to the mentality that believes that little girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. It is quite obvious that Mya,Lil Kim, Pink and Tina are made of industrial waste (that’s the music industry) and call me nice again and I’ll nut ya. Of course the way the foursome sing the song would make you think it was actually called Lady Mama Lard – which I suppose could be a cryptic Mama Cass reference – but tha certainly doesn’t redeem it. Lady Marmalade has always been an evil song, and only a misoynist like Luuuhhhhrrmmmaaannn would foist it upon us again. He wants me to watch Moulin Rouge? I’m just seeing red alright – it just isn’t a windmill.

*Oh, and my Weapon Of Choice certainly wouldn’t be Christopher Walken dancing like a man who has just undergone a double heart bypass. Tosser.


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N.E.R.D. – “Lapdance”

N.E.R.D. – “Lapdance”

The government are strippers: OK, this may well not be the most incisive or heavyweight political analysis you’ve heard in your life. But the word ‘government’ has been out-of-bounds in commercial hip-hop for so long it’s no surprise the Neptunes don’t quite know how to use it. They try singing it like Curtis Mayfield would, high cool and impassioned, but they only sound like Damon in Gorillaz, their rat-a-tat motorbike nihilism just another pop cartoon. The “Lapdance” music is a kissing cousin of Jay-Z’s “I Just Wanna Love You”, buffed and polished to dazzle the ear, trick it away from the Neptunes’ technically weak vocals.

But stuff technicalities: “Lapdance” works. They may sing “politicians” like Damon would, but they rap “motherfucker” like Nick Cave in “Stagger Lee”, which makes up for it, and their ill-fitting tuffness is more endearingly – and nerdishly – appealing than the confident, competent strut of a Ludacris or Nelly. Meanwhile to make a song about political pimping into a hit, they’ve used every sonic come-on they know and turned “Lapdance” into a three-minute Neptunes’ Greatest Hits: beats rattling like marbles in a can, toy robot keyboards and paranoid stoner whispers. A very modern party broadcast.


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