Reviews by JxSxPx

The Runaways were the first all-girl glitter-bomb glam-metal-punk band. They were one of the numerous influential artists who suffered from a lack of respect and sales while they were together, but proved their worth as the decades went on. The fact that Cherie Curie, Joan Jett and Lita Ford all had careers post-Runaways break-up speaks to that fact. Granted, Joan Jett has been the only one to maintain a certain level of fame and success throughout. So, a film about them seemed like a great idea. In execution it is a fun film, but far from one of the greatest bio-pics I have seen. But the music is absolutely great.

Instead of focusing on the entire group, The Runaways tells the story of Joan Jett and Kim Fowley, but mostly focuses on Cherie Currie. Kristen Steward and Michael Shannon deliver great performances in their respective roles, and look almost creepily alike their real-life counterparts during the era, but Dakota Fanning is weirdly vacant, a weightless presence who only really grows into the performance once Currie becomes a rock & roll casualty. Fanning looks like the younger Currie, but she never really captures the tenacity, fire and spunk of the original. Instead of showing Currie as she actually was, we get a good-girl-gone-bad storyline which rings ever-so-slightly false and plays very formulaic. It also doesn’t help that Fanning is allowed to actually sing (most of) the songs chosen to be in the film. The real Currie sounded like a middle-aged smoker at the ripe age of sixteen, and Fanning’s real voice sounds airy, light. Her growl is like a kitten mewing, not the guttural sex-howl it needed to be. But her performance hits its stride and comes to a stunning halt in a sequence where she tries to buy alcohol from a store but is denied. The venom and barely concealed junkie-rage she brings out showcases that she could have played the role more accurately and been all aces in the role if given the chance.

This brings about my last problem with the film: the way that the rest of the group is thrown off to the side and rudely ignored during the last sequences. Lita Ford has two speaking scenes, the bassist (a composite character with no lines since the life rights couldn’t be acquired, and they flew threw so many of them) and Sandy West’s tragic death never get a proper mention. The filmmakers have forsaken the more interesting and dramatic truth for a film formula. It’s worth seeing to see the typical rock & roll film get a riot-grrl makeover. And did I mention that the music is absolutely fantastic?

What is it about Jenny McCartney? She seems so smart, so willing to poke fun at herself and she is very pretty, but she’s also stuck in a brain-dead sort of humor that died shortly after the first two American Pie films. Dirty Love is an aggressively awful film with practically nothing redeeming, charming or funny about it.

From the script, cringe-worthy and incompetently written by McCartney, to the cinematography, which makes everyone look either too washed out or like it was done with a flashlight, Dirty Love is an exercise in endurance. Look, I love a movie that is so bad that it is almost high art, Showgirls being the best example of this, but Love doesn’t even have the decency or tenacity to be that bad. It’s just awful.

Is there anything that I like? Well, sure. I might have giggled and then felt dirty about it afterwards when she bled all over the supermarket. And looking at Victor Webster is never a chore, although this does push it fairly close to that level. But trying to watch Carmen Electra act, especially as a faux-ghetto black girl, is especially embarrassing and nausea inducing. Watching McCartney debase herself is ceases to be funny shortly after the movie starts. And trying to look at it is painful – was this filmed for $20 with someone’s out-of-date hand-held camera?

Should I say more? Perhaps. Will I? No. What good would it do, people that think this is a good movie obviously will never appreciate a real movie like Annie Hall or Born Yesterday, two examples of romantic comedies which star plucky, sexy and funny females that miles away and above this cinematic crap. Which is exactly what this is.

If the two-disc The Best of Elvis Costello proves anything over and over again, it is this: Elvis Costello is an absolute musical genius, unafraid to experiment within any genre or to tackle any varied emotion he can think of. The sequencing is problematic, but at two-discs worth of material, practically all of it pulled from his days with the Attractions (who are still his best backing band), is an absolute pleasure to listen to. It never feels over-bloated, unwelcome or like it’s about to slag. This is the Elvis Costello compilation to get.

When Elvis Costello first debuted with My Aim Is True he came across as much of a snarling punk as Sid Vicious, he just didn’t come armed with safety pins and beats that clubbed you over the head. He was literate, viciously funny, acidic, wordy and complicated. But his songs sounded deceptively bouncy, vibrant even. “Oliver’s Army” sounds like a particularly joyous piece of punk-pop fluff, until you dig into the lyrics and notice the references to South African apartheid. “Radio, Radio” hasn’t gained a pound or lost one single drop of venom since its original release date, that is both high praise (for Costello) and a damning observation (for, what else?, radio programming).

But he didn’t stick to just punk aggression; he could mutant reggae as well as the Clash or the Police. “Watching the Detectives” and “(I Don’t Want to Go to) Chelsea” bounce along on the white reggae grooves that were so popular at the time, but they subversively go darker and hit harder than a song like “Message in a Bottle.” Costello is also known as one of the greatest of New Wavers – songs like “Veronica,” “Tokyo Storm Warning” and “Accidents Will Happen” are genre defining masterpieces. The keyboards in “Accidents Will Happen” alone launched a handful of imitators. Yet even these three genres weren’t enough to hold him down – pop standards, country and a handful of vaguely soulful, slightly R&B songs are thrown in for good measure.

Was Elvis Costello more of a punk or a New Waver? It doesn’t matter, and this collection isn’t set up to sway the argument one way or another. This is a display of a living legend’s greatest accomplishments. I would have changed the sequencing to chronological order and avoided the eight song stretch of ballads that closes the set out that way. I would have also dropped “My Funny Valentine” for “The Only Flame in Town” or “Shabby Doll,” one of his most underrated masterpieces. But these tiny problems aside this set is a great summary and introduction to the musical genius that is Elvis Costello. DOWNLOAD: “Watching the Detectives,” “Radio, Radio,” “I Want You,” “Tokyo Storm Warning”

Another completed world tour, another live CD/DVD two-pack. This time it’s the tour in support of Hard Candy. Unlike the previously released live albums, I’m Going to Tell You a Secret and The Confessions Tour, the randomly chosen live tracks don’t sound so icy and out-of-context. Could it possibly be that Madge sounds like she’s actually enjoying herself on stage this time out? Maybe. While my favorite tour has always been Re-Invenvtion, and I thought that the ’08 leg of Sticky & Sweet was a gaudy hot-mess from what I gathered from YouTube clips, you can’t blame her for wanting to have some fun. Her personal and professional life had a rough two years. (For the record, the changes to the ’09 leg of Sticky & Sweet didn’t just improve the tour, they VASTLY improved the tour. “Holiday” made a return, “Dress You Up” was performed for the first time in ages, there was a Michael Jackson tribute and “Frozen” was added back in. The show in Israel was filmed, it would have been great to have those included in this set as bonus features, but I digress away from the album.)

The only real complaint is the song choice. Did “Spanish Lesson,” a contender for her worst track ever, really need a live version? I would have traded that out for the rocked-out version of “Borderline,” the metallurgic “Hung Up” or the remixed mind-fuck of “Into the Groove.” “Music” makes its THIRD appearance on a live album – granted, each version has been wildly different – but no love could be paid towards “Into the Groove,” which has a higher place in her catalog than “Music.” Did anyone want a live version of “Get Stupid”? If she must insist on taking up valuable space with her concert interludes why not include the remixed “Die Another Day” which came complete with Mortal Kombat sound effects (yeah, it has to be heard to be believed) or “Rain,” which was a mash-up with “Here Comes the Rain Again” by the Eurythmics?

Since this is another Madonna concert tour that means that any and all old school tracks get the remix treatment. And by “old school” I mean, any song that has either previously been performed on a tour or is from any album other than the one she is currently promoting. “La Isla Bonita” gets turned into a crazy Latin-meets-gypsy workout routine, “Human Nature” has a funk-meets-punk snarl and a Britney Spears cameo, “Music” gets turned into a dirty underground club jam, “Like a Prayer” gets turned into the choir song for a futuristic rave party and “You Must Love Me” becomes a beautiful acoustic moment performed with a gypsy flavor. These are the remixes that work, but there is one other older song that was performed. The treatment that “Vogue” gets is almost unforgivable. Long gone is the deep house groove and in its place is the beat to “4 Minutes.” It simply doesn’t work and totally neuters one of her greatest songs, and one of her greatest dance songs.

Other than that one misstep this is probably the best of her live albums. The remixes are by and large very intriguing, smart and bring something new out in each of the songs. The Hard Candy songs are performed well, and the stretch from “Music” to “Like a Prayer” (minus “Spanish Lesson” and “Get Stupid”) is quite mind-blowing. At 51 Madonna can still wipe the floor with any of her younger competitors. DOWNLOAD: “You Must Love Me”

An almost-great collection of Joan Jett & the Blackhearts highly influential and hard-rocking career, but exactly what is it missing? For one, a sense of chronology and, for another more of her songs with the Runaways, many of which she rerecorded with the Blackhearts and for various compilations. Or maybe it’s the slightly unnecessary new songs? She’s covered so many songs from the 70s-rock heyday (and before), that a few more added to the pile seems like a bit much. Or maybe it’s that a personal favorite is missing? I would have traded “Victim of Circumstance” for “Love Is Pain,” “Bits and Pieces” or “Nag.” Why isn’t “Love Is Pain” on this compilation anyway? But, really, these a minor squabbles. Nit-picking from someone who has been a fan for practically their entire life. Fit to Be Tied might not be as definitive as one would hope, but it comes fairly close. A great introduction for new fans, an almost-great compilation for those looking for all of Jett’s biggest songs/singles, Fit to Be Tied does prove that Jett is one of the most influential women in music. Hail to the original riot grrl. DOWNLOAD: “Bad Reputation,” “Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah),” “Crimson and Clover”

Martha & the Vandellas were second only to Diana Ross & the Supremes in Motown’s staple of great girl group acts. They ditched the super-polished very-pop gloss that Diana Ross & the Supremes made their stock and trade, instead Martha & the Vandellas went for a rougher, more urban pop-soul sound and look. It worked just as effectively. While a gem of a pop song like “Where Did Our Love Go” feels custom made for a voice like Diana Ross, a song like “Bless You” requires a bigger voice. Martha Reeves learned to sing by belting out gospel songs in her church, and that works its own brand of magic.

Like the rest of the compilations in Motown’s Ultimate Collection, this set incorporates twenty-five different songs – some singles, some b-sides, some rarities and a few beloved album tracks for good measure – to tell as much of the complete story without restoring to a full-on two-disc anthology. This is the perfect encapsulation of Martha & the Vandellas. Other compilations often drop off their first single, “Come and Get These Memories,” but that’s the first song on here. That alone makes The Ultimate Collection worth hunting down. (It has since gone out of print, being replaced by the good-but-not-great Definitive Collection, which also included “Come and Get These Memories” but dropped some of the lesser known material in favor of just eighteen of twenty-five tracks included here.)

The sound is clean, crisp and gives a restored life to every instrument, harmony and vocal tick on these recordings. Martha Reeves’ voice is capable of smoothly going over the line, but when she lets loose on songs like “Dancing in the Street” or “(Love Is Like a) Heat Wave” that’s when the real magic happens. She might have been the greatest female vocalist in the Motown stable. The rotating roster of Vandellas provided beautiful and pleasant harmonies to Reeves’ lead vocals.

The only real misstep on this collection is “A Love Like Yours (Don’t Come Knocking Everyday)” – a song they might have originated but which sees its definitive performance coming from Ike & Tina Turner’s collaboration with super-producer Phil Spector. A fire and grit in Tina Turner’s vocal performance cannot be matched. Berry Gordy would have never let Reeves rip-up the vocals the way that Spector allowed Turner. There original is by no means bad, it has its own kind of doo-wop charm, yet it feels restricted from the song that it could be.

This really is the ultimate collection of the hits, rarities and b-sides of Martha & the Vandellas. It proves that they hardly played second fiddle to Diana Ross & the Supremes. They, too, dominated the soul and pop charts in the 60s, they just did it with a more urban accented style. If you’re interested in listening to a great collection from one of the greatest girl groups, Motown performers or influential artists – seek this out. DOWNLOAD: “(Love Is Like a) Heat Wave,” “Nowhere to Run,” “Third Finger, Left Hand”

CrazySexyCool is a definitive album from the nineties. The massive hit singles have the ability to relocate you to the exact place and time when you first heard these songs. The album only tracks actually sound fairly modern, with a few production retouches and an update in guest rappers it wouldn’t sound out-of-place on today’s radio. This isn’t just a milestone of mid-90s R&B/pop; this is a milestone album for any girl group. Never before or since has a modern girl group faced issues with such intelligence, humor and honest sexuality without resorting to silly power-slut clichés. And in a genre, girl group pop, that is better known for fantastic singles and shoddy albums, it’s refreshing to listen to an album that is great from start to finish.

TLC was a favorite group of mine throughout the nineties, I still adore them, and this album was the reason why. Those powerhouse singles like “Creep” or “Diggin’ On You” still bring a smile to my face. It doesn’t hurt that they’re well written, well produced and well sung. I’ve always liked that this album wasn’t polished to the point where you start to suspect how of it was made with computers and not by human work. T-Boz and Chili have a tendency to be just the tiniest bit flat on songs like “Kick Your Game” and “Let’s Do It Again.” It’s comforting to know that in our modern day and age of Auto-Tune and ProTools there was a time when vocal flaws, mistakes and imperfections were embraced as part of the artistic process. I miss those days.

The only misfire on the entire album is the cover of Prince’s song “If I Was Your Girlfriend.” The genius of that song was that Prince was singing it. By having a group of female singers cover the song it removes all of the psychosexual intrigues and complicated gender role-playing. It’s not even that it’s badly performed, it’s just competent. They’re outclassed vocally by Prince, but they have given it their best shot. It would have been better to keep it off the album and release it as a b-side, or as a bonus track.

I hinted at the blunt honesty and intelligence earlier, and I would like to talk about that for a moment. “Waterfalls,” the monster of a single, addressed inner city violence, AIDS and the dangers of self-destructive behavior. What modern pop single would so daringly tackle these issues? Their sensitive and heartfelt vocal performances helped make the song the huge hit it became, but I think that the smarts and honesty behind the song had a bigger impact. TLC would also promote safe sex, and were unafraid of painting a complicated portrait of modern female identity and sexuality. They weren’t just the virgin and the whore but each and every identity between and past these two common identities given to female performers.

Not since Diana Ross & the Supremes has a girl group produced such fantastic R&B/pop fusion. With this release and the solid, but not quite as great, follow FanMail, TLC has taken their place in the pantheon of great girl groups. DOWNLOAD: “Waterfalls,” “Creep,” “Sumthin’ Wicked This Way Comes”

Marvin Gaye is known for three distinct phases of his career: the Motown matinee idol, the socially conscious soul singer, the erotically charged crooner of the later years. So, where does Here, My Dear fit in into this timetable? No where in particular. It’s an often bizarre, exceedingly dark record that puts every contradictory emotion about divorce on tape. This isn’t a record about divorce; this is the process of divorce on record. While it may not fit in neatly with his career trajectory, Here, My Dear remains a flawed, underrated masterpiece.

A curious piece of documentary-as-album, Here, My Dear had a most troubled birth. During the divorce proceedings, it was decided that the advance and royalties from Gaye’s next album would go to his ex-wife, Motown founder Berry Gordy’s sister, Anna Gordy. The story continues that Gaye, knowing he was going to get no money from the album, was going to produce a quickie album, not his finest effort, it probably would have been a mess and quickly forgotten after its release. But at some point during the recording process the perfectionist, obsessive artist in Gaye took over. From the sarcastic title to the scathing lyrics, this isn’t the swooning charmer of Let’s Get It On, this is Gaye’s darkest and most disturbed album. But because it so wildly veers off the normal path from his other material it continues to endure.

The song titles are exceptionally blunt: “Anna’s Song,” “You Can Leave, But It’s Gonna Cost You,” “Is That Enough,” and, of course, “When Did You Stop Loving Me, When Did I Stop Loving You.” Each of these songs is infinitely listenable, filled with laid-back grooves and spaces in which beautiful music is given a chance to experiment in jazz-like compositions. Gaye often works without melody lines, choosing instead to expand the music as far as he could. His voice is broken at times, and no amount of overdubs can hide that fact. But one of the things that so struck me about the album was that his voice carried the emotion, strain and weight of his personal life on record, gone are the pitch-perfect vocals of What’s Going On?. In today’s sad music times his voice would have been given Auto-Tune, and that would have taken away much of the power and mystique of the album.

Here, My Dear has been dubbed “an overlooked masterpiece” by Harry Weinger (who produced the 2008 reissue) – this is not bullshit PR move on their part. These songs are complicated, adult compositions. Much of Motown was geared at youth culture, this is geared at a more adult audience. While his lyrical attacks are often painfully naked and unadorned with clever poetics, that never stops the songs from being moving or listenable. This is not as perfect as What’s Going On? or Let’s Get It On, but this is a flawed masterpiece deserving of being uttered next to those same albums. DOWNLOAD: “When Did You Stop Loving Me, When Did I Stop Loving You”

Siouxsie & the Banshees reunited because they felt like it, not just because of the money. At least, that’s the only thing that sprang to mind while listening to this uneven live set. Siouxsie Sioux has lost practically all of her upper range, and while she was never really able to hit those high notes in concerts, her voice was more elastic during their heyday. It is now a seductive, disturbing smoked out husk. It adds a new layer of ominous razor edge to the songs. The band sounds fantastic, in fine form really. The only problem is that the setlist is one droning, dark, depressing song after another. There’s little attention paid to chart topping hits or the variety of sounds they covered. Yes, The Scream deservedly gets a lot of attention but where is “Hong Kong Garden?” And for that matter, what happened to “Kiss Them for Me,” “Face to Face,” “The Killing Jar,” “Christine,” “Spellbound” or “Carcass”? All would have been most welcome. Their version of “Blue Jay Way” proves that they could always do a wicked Beatles cover. “Blue Jay Way” has never sounded so disturbed or macabre. This is a fans only type of release. DOWNLOAD: “Blue Jay Way”

I read a review of Frances that said it was a pedestrian movie that was only saved by Jessica Lange’s performance. I disagree. This is a biographical film that doesn’t try to play off the main character as a perfect hero, a saint or a slightly damaged hero. Frances has no moral to teach, and it offers no easy answers about her life and personality. That is not a pedestrian film, that is a brave one. In a world where we demand that our biographical films make an entire life digestible and provide a happy moral this one refuses. And it couldn’t more perfectly fit in with its heroine’s life story. But Jessica Lange’s performance is a great one. One of the greatest of all time I believe.

That doesn’t mean it’s perfect. There are numerous flaws with the film. For starters it plays fast and loose with the reality of Frances Farmer’s life. Did she really endure and accomplish much of the things that she did in this film? Yes. Was she really institutionalized against her will? Yes. Was she lobotomized? No. Was there really a man named Harry? No. he was an invention of the writers to give her a continuous love interest. He is another one of the problems with the film. There was no need to fictionalize so much of her life story when the reality was so rich and fascinating. And Harry proves more distracting than a heart warming constant love interest. His presence becomes distracting since he only appears when it is convenient for the writers to reintroduce him. There is no organic growth for his constantly appearing at random intervals.

Two performance keep Frances moving and watchable though. One is Kim Stanley as Frances’ stage-mom from hell. She hides behind a caring façade but reveals how sharp her fangs can be whenever Frances threatens her with independent thought and actions. She wants to vicariously live through her daughter. And Jessica Lange gives a career defining performance as Frances Farmer. Prior to this was she eye candy to King Kong and Jack Nicholson’s plaything in the remake of The Postman Always Rings Twice. Frances gave her a big showcase for her immense talents. She ages, she fights for her right to free thinking and living. It is one of my favorite performances.

Was Frances crazy? No, I don’t believe she was. She was a woman who needed some therapy and some very low doses of medicine. She didn’t need to be institutionalized or have her entire life removed and placed in questionable hands. This is a story of darkness, but also of one woman’s struggle to survive and maintain against all odds.