Sure, she's a Hollywood brat in epic denial, but we really shouldn't be the ones throwing stones at LiLo. Her mom may have pushed her toward stardom, but the American public accepted her in welcoming arms, and then beat her whenever it could. Yes, she chose to spend her nights at Les Deux and hijacked that car, but like a bad parent who set the stage for their child's drug addiction, America set her up for a lifetime of delusions and drug bust.
Of course, we shouldn't reward her bad behavior. We should let her be punished and say she deserves it since she did break the terms of her probation. Yet, we shouldn't mock her. Instead, we should sit back and let Lindsay handle this on her own. We should ignore the tabloids and let a girl pull herself together. After all, we do read the tabloids which fuel the cameras that will only stall her success. Let's not analyze her every behavior. Let's simply pray and let her do her thing.
On the bright side, while she believes 90 days in the slammer and another 90 days in a doctor's care will end her career, this could be her luckiest break yet. This judge has pretty much set her up for a Robert Downey Jr. size comeback. The public sees her as a talented but troubled girl. If she goes to jail, takes responsibility, and ends her denial, she may still be able to win an oscar and return to box office glory. She's her biggest enemy. If she goes through treatment, listens, and faces the facts, she might NOT end up being Sean Young. It's up to her.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
One NIght With Hole
I have two definitions of a great artist. The first one comes from Roger Ebert. Anyone can make shitty art, but only a great artist can create a memorable piece of crap. My other definition comes from my love for all things trash and class. I judge an artist based on their intent, not their actual personal taste. I adore Cat Power’s folk and Britney Spear’s pop dystopian dancehall Americana, but I don’t expect Britney to play acoustic guitar and I don’t expect Chan Marshal to rap about malls.
Courtney Love falls into both definitions. Whether subconsciously crafting double meaning rock songs with great pop structure like “Never Go Hungry Again” or “Miss World” or completing a bizarrely fascinating hot mess that’s simultaneously awful and brilliant like American Sweetheart, she’s always memorable and always herself. Even as a punk widow turned A-list celeb, she combined old style glamour with brutal honesty. She was so real she didn’t even follow the folky “real” trends. She’s beyond fake. Some criticize her for her personal problems but since when was family problems her art form? She’s not my mother. That isn’t our grudge. Others lament that the new Hole doesn’t include former members. But it only takes a Behind the Music special to see Hole has always been Love plus her current collaborators. After all, Melissa only played on one album, so stop bitching that she’s not there, sixteen-year-old gay boy at the Fillmore.
I appreciate any artist who creates truthful and memorable work, but I only obsess over artist who genuinely affect me. She attracts me for many reasons but mostly because Courtney gives me hope that not every woman I’ve invested my love in will let me down. During her years in rehab and tabloid hell, I held onto my faith that like the phoenix in “Never Go Hungry Again,” she would return and show me why her songs saved me during middle school. It’s a cliché, but I had to put my faith in someone, even if that someone was a grunge goddess in rehab.
Over the last few months, I anticipated her show at the Fillmore on July second with excitement and anxiety. Rumors of Nobody’s Daughter have been circulating for years. I wasn’t crazy about that record at first and concert reviews ranged from celebratory (Spin) to down right awful (Washington Post). Even the positive reviews said her voice sounded weak at moments. However, they were all wrong. Unlike most of my mother figures, the last bitch standing not only delivered, she exceeded all my expectations. I have bootleg nineties Hole and this show was not just stronger it was as strong as any Rolling Stone or Judy Garland concert.
I arrived at the venue an hour early to make sure I was in the front row. There, I met a huge fat man who seemed like he would leave his wife for Courtney and a wonderful middle-aged couple who should be parents. I expected to wait for four hours to see Courtney because of the Washington Post, but whoever wrote that article clearly just doesn’t understand Hole or Miss Love. Anyways, what musician doesn’t come on late? I waited two and a half hours to watch Madonna rap and practice downward dog. Foxy Shazam, the opening act, took the stage promptly at nine and delivered close to an hour of showmanship blended with an incredible voice, odd Hedwigesque monologues, and lit cigarettes being thrown at the lead singer and later eaten by him. It was epic.
And I thought the wait would be epic, but less than half an hour later classical music rang in and the Queen of Punk took the stage. When I heard she opened with Pretty on the Inside/Sympathy for the Devil/Skinny Little Bitch, I was expecting a shot smoker’s voice struggling to scream like a banshee. Instead, as she told Howard Stern, her voice sounds better than ever. She was sober, confident, and fulfilling. She portrayed her honest, “I’m an addict, fuck you if you don’t like me, punk Judy Garland from the ashes” persona with a combination of humility, celebrity, rage, and hard working sobriety.
She plummeted right through the songs, getting better and better as the night went on. She opened her arms like Christ. She didn’t skip a single classic. There was no “long and boring chatter.” She just had some funny comments and some arguing with Miko. They seem to have a weird mother and annoying son dynamic. He was shirtless and covered in glitter. Was he high? I have no clue. I just know Courtney didn’t want him in her spotlight. She apologized and had the crowd clap for him since he lived with her for five years. Apparently, she has a dirty dressing room.
Every song a fan would have wanted Hole to perform, she sang. At some moments the obnoxious crowd, took my attention away from “Miss World” and “Asking for it” but not for long. A four-foot tall bitch kept asking to go in front of me. I politely explained that I stood outside for over an hour and she said that she, like the girl in “Asking for It,” asked me nicely. I told her I was a bitch and wouldn’t move. People’s excuses to get in the front were beyond ridiculous. One girl claimed that she needed Hole to sing a song for a dead friend. She asked for “Credit in the Straight World.” Why on earth would you have a band dedicate a cover about drug dealers to your best friend? LAME EXCUSE. My favorite came from the drunken girl who told us a guy we knew was her husband. She then proceeded to tell us she was drunk. No need to tell us that, bitch. Yet, they couldn’t distract me from Courtney holding out her skinny arms, pounding the guitar, and stomping her foot in between sets.
I was so distracted by Courtney’s raw emotions. I was rocking and screaming loudly and she noticed. She looked me in the eye during “Someone Else’s Bed”, smiled, and then threw her pick and cigarette right in my face. I was so star struck I froze in bliss. I shared eye contact with an icon.
Her performance was so amazing that in certain moments, I didn’t even rock out. After the show, I beat myself up for not rocking out as much. Sitting outside, I met Keith Richards; not realizing it was he and called him just an average drunk when a drunken guy asked us to photograph him. A drunken man named Carlos then told us that someone named David “fucks his pussy” every night and that he drank everything inside the Fillmore. Really? I couldn’t tell, Carlos. Yet, meeting Keith wasn’t my favorite moment of the night. During the show’s closer and most vulnerable performance, “Thirteen/Never Go Hungry Again,” I froze with my arms out, watching Love and Miko play acoustic guitar. When she danced on the side, you could see how in touch she was with the music. It was like evil spirits had possessed her and rock exorcized her. Now the queen could revel in the music. As she sang her first post rehab song, Love closed her eyes, belting the lyrics. On iTunes, I never enjoyed the new album’s slower folk songs, but live, I finally understood them. Courtney Love worked hard to reassemble Hole and return to the stage and will never leave it. Nothing could distract me from the groove more than that type of performance.
Courtney had her messy years but on a July Friday night in South Florida, she didn’t let me down. Some would call her leaving and having Lisa tell us to shout “Hole!” to get her back on stage but that’s part of the event. She was obviously returning and she came back for what felt like a second concert. She delivered the excitement. She delivered the rage. She delivered the emotion. She delivered everything Hole that made me fall in love during middle school. There’s a reason she’s the last bitch standing and my Judy Garland. It’s because she’s no one but fucking Courtney Love.
SONGS SHE SANG:
PRETTY ON THE INSIDE: Pretty on the Inside
LIVE THROUGH THIS: Miss World
Violet
Asking For It
Doll Parts
Plump
CELEBRITY SKIN: Reasons to be Beautiful
Celebrity Skin
Awful
Malibu
Boys on the Radio
NOBODY’S DAUGHTER: Skinny Little Bitch
Letter to God
Pacific Coast Highway
Someone Else’s Bed
Never Go Hungry Again
COVERS: Sympathy for the Devil
Take This Longing
Play With Fire
Thirteen
Go here for clips from the concert: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgA11F24-eg&feature=youtube_gdata
Courtney Love falls into both definitions. Whether subconsciously crafting double meaning rock songs with great pop structure like “Never Go Hungry Again” or “Miss World” or completing a bizarrely fascinating hot mess that’s simultaneously awful and brilliant like American Sweetheart, she’s always memorable and always herself. Even as a punk widow turned A-list celeb, she combined old style glamour with brutal honesty. She was so real she didn’t even follow the folky “real” trends. She’s beyond fake. Some criticize her for her personal problems but since when was family problems her art form? She’s not my mother. That isn’t our grudge. Others lament that the new Hole doesn’t include former members. But it only takes a Behind the Music special to see Hole has always been Love plus her current collaborators. After all, Melissa only played on one album, so stop bitching that she’s not there, sixteen-year-old gay boy at the Fillmore.
I appreciate any artist who creates truthful and memorable work, but I only obsess over artist who genuinely affect me. She attracts me for many reasons but mostly because Courtney gives me hope that not every woman I’ve invested my love in will let me down. During her years in rehab and tabloid hell, I held onto my faith that like the phoenix in “Never Go Hungry Again,” she would return and show me why her songs saved me during middle school. It’s a cliché, but I had to put my faith in someone, even if that someone was a grunge goddess in rehab.
Over the last few months, I anticipated her show at the Fillmore on July second with excitement and anxiety. Rumors of Nobody’s Daughter have been circulating for years. I wasn’t crazy about that record at first and concert reviews ranged from celebratory (Spin) to down right awful (Washington Post). Even the positive reviews said her voice sounded weak at moments. However, they were all wrong. Unlike most of my mother figures, the last bitch standing not only delivered, she exceeded all my expectations. I have bootleg nineties Hole and this show was not just stronger it was as strong as any Rolling Stone or Judy Garland concert.
I arrived at the venue an hour early to make sure I was in the front row. There, I met a huge fat man who seemed like he would leave his wife for Courtney and a wonderful middle-aged couple who should be parents. I expected to wait for four hours to see Courtney because of the Washington Post, but whoever wrote that article clearly just doesn’t understand Hole or Miss Love. Anyways, what musician doesn’t come on late? I waited two and a half hours to watch Madonna rap and practice downward dog. Foxy Shazam, the opening act, took the stage promptly at nine and delivered close to an hour of showmanship blended with an incredible voice, odd Hedwigesque monologues, and lit cigarettes being thrown at the lead singer and later eaten by him. It was epic.
And I thought the wait would be epic, but less than half an hour later classical music rang in and the Queen of Punk took the stage. When I heard she opened with Pretty on the Inside/Sympathy for the Devil/Skinny Little Bitch, I was expecting a shot smoker’s voice struggling to scream like a banshee. Instead, as she told Howard Stern, her voice sounds better than ever. She was sober, confident, and fulfilling. She portrayed her honest, “I’m an addict, fuck you if you don’t like me, punk Judy Garland from the ashes” persona with a combination of humility, celebrity, rage, and hard working sobriety.
She plummeted right through the songs, getting better and better as the night went on. She opened her arms like Christ. She didn’t skip a single classic. There was no “long and boring chatter.” She just had some funny comments and some arguing with Miko. They seem to have a weird mother and annoying son dynamic. He was shirtless and covered in glitter. Was he high? I have no clue. I just know Courtney didn’t want him in her spotlight. She apologized and had the crowd clap for him since he lived with her for five years. Apparently, she has a dirty dressing room.
Every song a fan would have wanted Hole to perform, she sang. At some moments the obnoxious crowd, took my attention away from “Miss World” and “Asking for it” but not for long. A four-foot tall bitch kept asking to go in front of me. I politely explained that I stood outside for over an hour and she said that she, like the girl in “Asking for It,” asked me nicely. I told her I was a bitch and wouldn’t move. People’s excuses to get in the front were beyond ridiculous. One girl claimed that she needed Hole to sing a song for a dead friend. She asked for “Credit in the Straight World.” Why on earth would you have a band dedicate a cover about drug dealers to your best friend? LAME EXCUSE. My favorite came from the drunken girl who told us a guy we knew was her husband. She then proceeded to tell us she was drunk. No need to tell us that, bitch. Yet, they couldn’t distract me from Courtney holding out her skinny arms, pounding the guitar, and stomping her foot in between sets.
I was so distracted by Courtney’s raw emotions. I was rocking and screaming loudly and she noticed. She looked me in the eye during “Someone Else’s Bed”, smiled, and then threw her pick and cigarette right in my face. I was so star struck I froze in bliss. I shared eye contact with an icon.
Her performance was so amazing that in certain moments, I didn’t even rock out. After the show, I beat myself up for not rocking out as much. Sitting outside, I met Keith Richards; not realizing it was he and called him just an average drunk when a drunken guy asked us to photograph him. A drunken man named Carlos then told us that someone named David “fucks his pussy” every night and that he drank everything inside the Fillmore. Really? I couldn’t tell, Carlos. Yet, meeting Keith wasn’t my favorite moment of the night. During the show’s closer and most vulnerable performance, “Thirteen/Never Go Hungry Again,” I froze with my arms out, watching Love and Miko play acoustic guitar. When she danced on the side, you could see how in touch she was with the music. It was like evil spirits had possessed her and rock exorcized her. Now the queen could revel in the music. As she sang her first post rehab song, Love closed her eyes, belting the lyrics. On iTunes, I never enjoyed the new album’s slower folk songs, but live, I finally understood them. Courtney Love worked hard to reassemble Hole and return to the stage and will never leave it. Nothing could distract me from the groove more than that type of performance.
Courtney had her messy years but on a July Friday night in South Florida, she didn’t let me down. Some would call her leaving and having Lisa tell us to shout “Hole!” to get her back on stage but that’s part of the event. She was obviously returning and she came back for what felt like a second concert. She delivered the excitement. She delivered the rage. She delivered the emotion. She delivered everything Hole that made me fall in love during middle school. There’s a reason she’s the last bitch standing and my Judy Garland. It’s because she’s no one but fucking Courtney Love.
SONGS SHE SANG:
PRETTY ON THE INSIDE: Pretty on the Inside
LIVE THROUGH THIS: Miss World
Violet
Asking For It
Doll Parts
Plump
CELEBRITY SKIN: Reasons to be Beautiful
Celebrity Skin
Awful
Malibu
Boys on the Radio
NOBODY’S DAUGHTER: Skinny Little Bitch
Letter to God
Pacific Coast Highway
Someone Else’s Bed
Never Go Hungry Again
COVERS: Sympathy for the Devil
Take This Longing
Play With Fire
Thirteen
Go here for clips from the concert: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgA11F24-eg&feature=youtube_gdata
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