Pink Moan

October 3rd, 2008 by Gnat

Now do I have your attention? Lately I can’t get the song I Need Lunch by the Dead Boys out of my head. Click here and download the mp3 (lest it be removed), listen to the tune, read the following lyrics, and bear with me:

“I-I don’t need your company
Girls like you all come for free
I-I don’t really wanna dance
Girl, I just wanna get in your pants

I-I don’t wantcha to hang around
Girl I don’t need ya to drag me down
Well I-I don’t really wanna dance
Girl, I just wanna get in your pants

Now listen girl

You try and try
You want we’re just more than friends
You cry and cry
You know i’ll prick ya’in the end
Look at me that way, bitch
Your face is gonna getta punch
I said I don’t need no cook girl
I need lunch

Now listen to me baby

I-you go find yourself a factory man
Girl-you were born with dishpan hands
Well I, baby, I don’t need romance
You know, girl, I just wanna get in your pants

I said-I need lunch

Feed me!!”

Even without Stiv Bators’ snarky, snarly intonation these lyrics on their own read as offensive. His searing delivery backed by loud guitars only serves to salt the sting. The narrator of this song hates women, or at least the woman he’s singing to and about. Hell, at the song’s apex he threatens to punch the bitch. I mean, this is hard, violent shit. In addition, this song equates a woman with a meal.

So why do I love it so much?

Believe me, gentle reader, I have spent too much time analyzing my love of I Need Lunch. Time that should have probably been spent working or studying for the GRE. But the good news is I think I figured it out: I love this song because it expresses primitive drive, without any pretense of sentimentality. I don’t have to like what Stiv Bators is saying, but I can’t ignore the rawness of his lament. It’s ugly and it’s real. And I’ll take a real hate song any day over a flaccid, fake love song. True and ugly is better than phony and pretty.

Stiv (1949-1990)

September 5th, 2008 by Gnat

Aunt Flo just arrived in town, so I thought I’d share this hilarious clip:

January 3rd, 2008 by Gnat

I knew that when I started this blog I would dedicate my first post to the goddess who is Annie Sprinkle. Shy and awkward Jewish girl turned ’70s porn star turned post-porn performance artist, Ms. Sprinkle is one of my porny pop culture heroes. Not only that, she’s one of my feminist heroes too.

I was fortunate enough to see Annie perform twice during my college years in the mid-’90s. One of these performances was a rare college campus appearance, courtesy of Annie’s mentor/former lover/collaborator/performance artist extraordinaire and at the time UT Art prof, Linda Montano. If you’re unfamiliar with Linda Montano and her amazing (and somewhat literal) body of work, do yourself a favor and check her out.

The first time I saw her perform, Annie’s show consisted largely of a slideshow accompanied by her dead-witty dialog and industry stories. This was followed by a brief burlesque-y sort of number, and topped off by her now-famous cervix display. What struck me most and left the greatest lasting impression was not the graphic nature of Annie’s show, but the radiantly positive, funny and relaxed manner in which she delivered her saucy material. This is a woman who lovingly opened herself up to display her most “private” parts for audience members just so we could each get a good look at a cervix (because most of us had never seen one, Annie said). We even could take a picture if we wanted. I wanted, and somewhere this glossy shot is buried in my belongings. If I find it I promise to post it at a later date.

I haven’t seen the pic in years, but naturally the image is burned upon my brain forever: Annie is splayed open with a speculum, her stiletto-heeled feet in stirrups on either side of the picture frame. An assistant points the beam of a flashlight towards her opening. Annie looks down at the camera with her eyes full of sparkle. I am behind the camera nervous and smiling.