For richer, for poorer

Lots of marriages don’t work. Gay marriages. Opposite marriages. People enter with the best intentions and then, for whatever reason, end up with irreconcilable differences. Until death do us part is really more of a suggestion these days. So the end of Melissa Etheridge and Tammy Lynn Michaels nine-year relationship is in and of itself not shocking. Sad, but not shocking.

But what is shocking, and also sad – not to mention really fucking disappointing, is what seems to be a shirking of responsibility on Melissa’s part now that their marriage is over. Melissa filed for divorce on Friday, citing that old standby “irreconcilable differences.” She also asked the court for a) joint custody of their 3-year-old twins and b) to not pay financial support to Tammy. Um, what?

Tammy, not one to take a headline lying down, took to her blog to let the universe know exactly how she felt about that. She wrote that she was blindsided by Melissa’s filing (she says Melissa had promised not to file until after her tour was over in the fall). And then she had some choice words about Melissa wanting to wriggle out of alimony.

i gave up my managers, agents, contacts, all that good stuff, because i stepped directly into potty training a small boy, and carrying around a small girl on my hip. both excellent souls. and i was a very huge part in raising them for many many years while She with the Guitar focused on her Guitar.

i was always the house wife after that. the only thing i hated about it was not bringing in money- i have made my own money since i started babysitting at 10, and having a newspaper route at 11. having no steady paycheck killed me for those years with her. and now it's really killing me. the other week i had to borrow money from a friend. two weeks ago i had to scrape together $1.25 to pay for gas. i know she doesn't want to give me money. trust. i'm borrowing cash left and right from people to get through this summer, and feed my kids, with a stomach full of ulcers, thank you. no stress here. :-)

Look, She with the Guitar, Tammy helped raise your two kids from your previous marriage. She is raising your two twins. She stuck by you through cancer. She stuck by you when you won an Oscar. She gave up her career to make this all happen. She was truly there for better and for worse. These things, they have worth. She may not have made a paycheck, but those are work. And you benefited from that work. And now, just like any other marriage that ends in divorce where one partner made the money and the other stayed at home to raise the family, you need to pony up.

We can’t enjoy the fun parts and then when things get decidedly unfun say, well, it wasn’t a real marriage anyway. Hell yes, it was. Weren’t you all filled with piss and civil disobedience when Prop. 8 passed, saying you wouldn’t pay your state income taxes because California took away your right to legally marry? Or, as I now suspect, do I detecting much more simple reasoning. Is it all about saving a few bucks and not paying people what they are due?

As we stare down the still-smoking barrel of the latest sorry shooting down of our civil liberties (Gee thanks, Hawaii. Aloha this.), the absurdity of Melissa’s request becomes all the more apparent.

With rights come responsibilities. In this quest to be equal, we have to take the good with the bad. The right to get married? Yes, absolutely. The responsibilities that come if that marriage ends in divorce? Yep, those too. Love is love. Marriage is marriage. Fair is fair. Honey, if you didn’t wanna pay up, shoulda got a pre-nup.

Tank Top Tuesday: Lilith Edition

So yesterday I partied like it was 1999. Meaning, of course, I went to Lilith Fair. The show was great. The artists were great. There was such a great number of lesbians I thought maybe I got my dates wrong and stumbled on the Dyke March again instead. But no, it was just a bunch of amazing, amazing female performers who also happen to look amazing, amazing in tank tops. That is what I call a twofer. Though the one thing I did learn, I can’t bounce back from partying like it’s 1999 like I used to be able to in 1999. Hence, the lateness of my post. Please forgive me and my tired little brain.

Sarah McLachlanOh, Sarah. Even though every time you sing these days I have to fight the urge to adopt a stray puppy, I still love you. You, in your tank top, is better than ice cream.

The BanglesAs a teen I wasn’t sure who it liked more – delicate, doe-eyed Susanna Hoffs or tough, guitar-slinging Vicki Peterson? Now, as an adult, I know – why choose?

Miranda LambertFYI, country music girls do not look bad in a tank top. Not at all.

Colbie CaillatWell, something starts in my toes when I look at Colbie.

HeartSo, um, Fergie is wearing the tank top here. Proximity counts.

A Fine FrenzyRed hair, everywhere.

And here are a few I wish were in my lineup.

Brandi Carlile
Metric
Janelle MonaeYeah, I know this isn’t a tank top. But it’s only two days until Thursday. So consider Janelle a preview.

p.s. I think bikini tops should count as quasi tank tops. So now it’s a rule.
[Look for my full review of the show tomorrow this week on AfterEllen.com.]

Red, White and Fey

Happy belated birthday, America. (And, yes, I know – the rest of The Americas have an entirely other birthday.) So happy Fifth of July, everyone else.

~Nippy Sweeties~#2: 'That Creature' by The Sweet Acids

A Trove Of Obscure Sixties Pop, Garage & Psychedelic Wibblery!

Ooohh....Controversial!!

Now here's a rum old hot-potato from 1969....'That Creature' by The Sweet Acids is either inexplicably misogynistic, or it's an unsubtle paean to recondite homosexuality!!
Just have a listen to these woman-baiting lyrics; "Who was that creature loving you?// Was she from the local zoo?// Put her down you silly clown// Before the word gets all around", okay....so far so 'buddy telling is friend that his girlfriend isn't blessed in the looks department', but it goes on, "Can't you see that I'm frantic// Can't you see that I'm mad// Leave that ugly thing from another planet!" .....hmmmm, now why would he be frantic and mad do you reckon? A clue might be found later on as the singer intones almost tenderly, "Let's go back to where we started// Lot's of fun before we parted". Virtually everybody I've ever let hear this song almost immediately asks if this is a gay song? I'm not entirely sure....it could just be a song about how ugly one guy thinks his best friend's partner is, or it could be a pure novelty/comedy song about someone dating then dumping an alien....or maybe it really is a declaration of relief from one man that his male lover has decided to quit 'the woman situation' and return to him.
Personally I think it's the middle theory....given all the weird sci-fi noises that run through the song, I think it's just a novelty piece about a man's love affair with an alien. I certainly don't think that band were trying to put across a woman-hating vibe, and I think it's just some unfortunate rhymes that lead to speculation about homosexuality.


The Sweet Acids hailed from Carrollton, Georgia(and therefore may have been some influence on The B-52s), and the single was released on Unique Records. As is often the case in these situations, this was their only release and it failed to do anything anywhere! However, word of mouth down through the decades has led to the record achieving cult status and a much sought after release. It's certainly well played with lots of acid-y guitar and some nice Farfisa playing in the middle.
They REALLY don't make 'em like this anymore!

No....really....they don't! My Streetlamp cohort Griff recently pointed out that you simply don't get proper novelty/unusual records anymore. It's all too corporate and business driven these days. In the Sixties, characters like Tiny Tim, Mrs Mills, Thunderclap Newman or The Temperance Seven could easily score some chart action with the most uncompromising of songs, and this trickled down into the Seventies and Eighties. One-off 'talents' like Wild Man Fischer could, under Frank Zappa's patronage in the late Sixties nearly bother the charts, which is almost mirrored on Kurt Cobain's enthusiasm for Daniel Johnston who could, in any other decade, have become a bona fide chart act. Yet somehow in these Reality TV/ *cough* Talent Show days when everything is about ratings and chart positions, eccentricity and individuality is snuffed out. Even something as crap as Susan Boyle is given such a vigorous studio/professional polish that it blands itself into vapour.

Annoyingly we seem to reverted back to 1962; uninspiring, dull, faceless tin-cans on a production line; pop-stars as business commodity all over again. And tragically The Beatles won't be coming to save us this time, Kids!!
And for that, we really should clasp records like 'That Creature' to our collective bosom.

Keep Your Mind Open!

~Gordon~

Griff says; It's a Fairytale Beginning

There's no getting away from it, I've been around the block a few times and, I'll admit it, I sometimes feel as though I've pretty much heard everything that indie music has to offer. Even music obsessives like us at 'Streetlamp' occasionaly get jaded with what often feels like the same old formulae. But sometimes, just sometimes, you hear a band for the first time, and you fall in love with music all over again.

Earlier this week I had just such an epiphany. If you're of a certain age you'll remember what it was like to listen to John Peel's radio show late at night in the late 70's and early 80's. While closing-time, adult Scotland drank itself into mawkishness or aggression you'd be curled up in bed, ear close to a tinny, fading radio signal with winter howling outside. John, God bless him, would play a stodgy Led Zeppelin track followed by some interminable reggae number... and then, just as your sleepy wee head was beginning to nod- BANG! Suddenly John was playing 'Dead Pop Stars' by Altered Images for the very first time and within a minute you knew what 7" you were spending your pocket money on in Stirling on Saturday.

The Botched Fairytale album cover

I'm glad to say that I had one of those moments this week. The band is called...well the band doesn't officially have a name, but unofficially people have assumed they're called Botched Fairytale. In actual fact, Botched Fairytale is the forthcoming debut album by Mariel McCormack (vocals, percussion and instrumentation) and Marie O Hara (percussion and instrumentation) from Co Longford, Ireland. Although the band was formed in 2008 the girls haven't yet committed to a band name. Quite right too! While most bands fuss over such minor details this audacious pair just go straight for the musical jugular in spectacular fashion.

So what do they sound like? The girls gave me the following self-description:

We write atypical Irish ballads and Irish folk songs inspired by the album title. The songs are about excess and failure and we like aggressive instrumentation and vocals. At times (for example in The Flats) we play botched traditional Irish music using; whistle, accordian, acoustic guitar and mandolin. Other times we use squealing guitars and percussion; using large metal sheeting, milk cans and piano innards combined with snare and bass drum. We are influenced by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds and The Pogues.

I'm sorry but, while it's no doubt accurate, that description just doesn't do their incredible sound any justice. After I first heard them, I asked the girls if they were influenced by my all-time favourites; avant-garde, girl-punk band The Slits and charmingly they admitted that they had heard of them but weren't familiar with their music. Amazingly, these two precocious young Irish musicians are somehow unconsciously channeling the sound of the truly exceptional, pioneering, post-punk bands like The Slits, The Pop Group and The Raincoats and yet very much making it their own with a sublime traditional music twist. When I first heard them I immediately knew that they were exactly what I'd been waiting to hear for the last ten years. If I hear a better song this year than the duo's The Flats then I'll quite happily lie down and die.

The Flats by Botched Fairytale


Hyperbole? No, I don't think so. I don't want to talk about myself but, briefly, I've spent many years on my own musical projects (see Sighrens for instance) and my holy grail was always to produce something that was influenced by left-field, experimental and indie music but was also unselfconsciously folky. It's maybe a Celtic thing, but in Scotland and Ireland it wouldn't be unusual to have a whistle, harmonica, accordian or mandolin lying around as the main instrument in the house. This sounds awfully odd said out loud, but it's been my goal for a long, long time to hear a young band who sound as though they've picked up those traditional instruments and just made music with them in a totally uncontrived way; not attempting to do 'trad' music but just making their own kind of noise with what's to hand (like Granddad did in the Punk wars). Well, now I've heard it, and boy it's every bloody bit as good as I thought it would be!

Don't believe me? Have a listen to these tracks (below) from the duo's Soundcloud page and then go and download them and tell everyone, absolutely everyone, you know about Marie and Mariel.

All Cylinders by Botched Fairytale

Steelcapped Toes by Botched Fairytale

Chasers by Botched Fairytale


All of the music is written, performed, mixed and mastered by the duo . The album will be available soon. Keep an eye on 'Streetlamp' for the details. You can also go visit the myspace and last.fm pages and leave a nice comment.

Griff
xx

My Weekend Crush

To think, all these years I’ve been thinking about how to get into Wonder Woman’s pants and all of a sudden I can’t stop thinking about putting on her pants. By now you’ve probably heard about the wardrobe change heard around the superverse. Women Woman wears pants – or at least some sort of industrial legging. It’s kind of shocking. My mind is at war with itself trying to decide if I hate hate hate it or think it’s progress that she no longer needs to do extensive waxing in her southern hemisphere to fight crime.

But all the talk about the Amazon Princess’ change from star-spangled hotpants and red-hot bustier to Hot Topic street fighter chic serves as a reminder of what Wonder Woman means to us. She is arguable (heck, we don’t even need to argue, this is fact) the most iconic female superhero ever. Despite her skimpy attire, she has never been salacious. She has been embraced as a feminist icon and even graced the cover of Ms. magazine. And, come on, you still wish you had a pair of those Wonder Woman Underoos like you had when you were five.

So changing her outfit is a big deal. And yet, it’s just an outfit – right? Wonder Woman still stands for what she always stood for – truth, justice and the world’s most transparent airline. She is powerful, she demands respect, she comes from a long line of female warriors. If she catches you staring at her Wonder bust too long in any outfit, she will clock you. But just think if they had originally drawn her in some sort of sensible stars-and-stripes pantsuits and then 69 years later the new guard switched her into her hotpants/hot top ensemble. The murder we’d be screaming, it’d be bloody.

In the end, I can’t get too worked up. Because this is Wonder Woman. She might finally get to wear some pants right now, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the hotpants are just at the dry cleaners. And as long as no one messes with my warm memories of Lynda Carter spinning and spinning and spinning, it’ll all be OK. Happy weekend, all.

EDITED TO ADD: Because it’s a long weekend. And because it’s the Fourth of July Weekend. And because the Fourth of July is all about the red, white and blue. And because one was more red, white and blue (pre-Hot Topic jacket and Lohan leggings) than Wonder Woman. Because of all of that, I felt like it was my patriotic duty to add this picture to the post. America, fuck yeah.

Montenegro is the new black

Every time I look at little Shiloh Jolie-Pitt, she makes me smile. It’s not to convergence of two of the world’s most perfect gene pools that makes me so happy. It’s not the inherent cuteness of a 4-year-old towhead exploring the world that makes me glow. It’s that she seems so wonderfully, organically, uninhibitedly herself. All children should be this free. Now, granted, she has a lot of advantages – possibly all of them. Her parents are Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, for starters. And, her parents are letting her be who she wants to be – even at this young age.

Angelina gave a recent interview with Vanity Fair and, of course, it was the tidbits about her little tomboy Shiloh that made the most headlines. She called her “hysterically funny, one of the goofiest, most playful people you’ll ever meet.” And then said:

“Shiloh, we feel, has Montenegro style. It’s how people dress there. She likes tracksuits, she likes (regular) suits. She likes to dress like a boy. She wants to be a boy. So we had to cut her hair. She likes to wear boys’ everything. She thinks she's one of the brothers.”

ZOMG, what does this mean? Is Shiloh trans? Is Shiloh lesbian? Is Shiloh deeply confused? Should we pray for Shiloh? Lord, people. Shiloh is 4. Shiloh has years and years to figure all of that out. What Shiloh is is, by all appearances, deliriously happy in her own skin. Isn’t that what we all should want for our children?

p.s. I am totally jealous of Shiloh’s Montenegro style. And I want that jacket.