Sounds like Diamonds and Pearls.
Carrie, my friend and female fiancee (seriously, guys...someone's gotta pull through or I'm giving into my 3 on the Kinsey scale), and I had the joy of seeing PEACHES live again last week.
Slighltly smaller club, slightly worse acoustics, but one kick-ass female rockstar? Priceless. And a menstruating Mensa drummer's nothing to sneeze at, either.
Carrie remarked that she often gets great creative writing ideas during shows, and I have to admit I do as well. There's something about a fellow artist's live performance that gets me ol' alpha waves flowing. Though that particular night I was pondering Woman Kings in general, and how I don't like them once they come out with their vulnerabilities.
Cher, Roseanne, Courtney Love, Sharon Stone, Geena Davis, Sandra Bernhard, Angelina Jolie, Margaret Cho, Madonna...I don't want to hear about their insecurities about their looks or troubles with men. I want them to just be their warrior selves and lead us through the gates of hell.
Peaches and her mentor/idol Joan Jett are quite similar in that they don't break from that image. Don't think we'll ever see either on People magazine talking about their secret shames or celebrity diseases. Thank goddess. We need some female Mick Jaggers and Steven Tylers storming the pit with irony, intelligence, verve, and organic tampons.
It's funny, what all those celebrities have in common is being bisexual feminists. I wonder if that's what's required to usurp the male gaze. Because what I most admire in them is that when they are confident, they each become the objectifier. Their sexuality becomes the active, dominant force. It's quite striking, especially against the current backdrop of emaciated teen celebrities begging for public attention. A Woman King could care less what you think of her...you're there for her approval.
No comments:
Post a Comment