Culture Blues

Music: “Nobody’s Daughter” – Hole

Like most kids who grew up before the advent of broadband, I spent most of my time after school heading to a friend's house so we could smoke pot and listen to records (this is LONG before I had a real girlfriend). Those moments in Glen's basement served as a real musical education to young Giovanny; I was raised in a home where hip-hop was king and the knights in its service were Big, Dre, Snoop, and Pac (all tremendous artists in their own right). Needless to say, when I first heard the jet plane roar of a Big Muff through a JCM-800 (about the :54 mark) my life was forever changed. From that mind-expanding point forward I was just another devotee of the alternative machine; I stopped dressing preppy, bought all the flannel I could find, and finally began to "find myself" in the collected identity of another of those cultural shifts that was profound at the time, but means absolutely nothing today.

The first family of the Alternative nation were the Cobains; a couple of axe-wielding songwriters from the Pacific Northwest whose union was based on the principle that each had what the other wanted. Kurt (as the idol of his day) had the fame, respect, and adulation Courtney always dreamed of having (2:25), and she had the loud, obnoxious, outgoing, alpha-personality that he could never muster. Theirs was an iconic "love" which was tumultuous, passionate, and fascinatingly dysfunctional, it was wrought with controversy and ended as abruptly as it did tragically. Kurt Cobain's death on April 5th, 1994 didn't just take the wind out of the Alternative sails, it lit that vessel on fire; and although it continued to try reach for the horizon a few more years, it eventually sank into the quiet waters of memory. Of the men and women who fought against corporate controlled art and expression in Doc Marten's and thermals, only a few stand today: Pearl Jam is still dropping pretty good records, Billy Corgan is now a big time Jessica-Simpson-dating Christian, Weezer was never really part of that party, Beck is still a genius, the Chili Peppers (who were around WAY before the genre had a name) still have Flea, and sadly, Courtney Love is not in rehab.

Since she was spawned/summoned in San Francisco back in 1964, Courtney Love has worn many hats; she has been a singer, songwriter, musician, film-producer, actress... and a focal point of extreme ill-will from my generation. She has been "credited" (some of these are far more legit than others) as a member of musical acts like Emilie Autumn, Pagan Babies, Babes in Toyland, Faith No More, Nirvana, and Hole (she also claims to have written Disarm by the Pumpkins, in addition to numerous Nirvana tunes), and is a polarizing figure who in my opinion has never truly deserved any of the praise she has received. Since the 1994 release of the landmark Live Through This (there are numerous rumors out there that Cobain wrote the majority of said record), Love's music career has been a series of banal and half-hearted failures, her behavior has become reprehensible, and she even lost custody of her daughter by Cobain,  Francis Bean (who I named my first guitar after... seriously. I was a super fan). You would think that as a 45 year old woman, with a 17 year old daughter, that Courtney would be trying to settle down, center herself, and get her shit together; instead she is "resurrecting" her band (there are no actual former members in the lineup), dropping a record, and going on tour. I am sure child services loves that one.

As I was listening to Nobody's Daughter for the first time, I found myself searching desperately for the reason that Universal even bothered putting it out. My first assumption was it must have been some sort of joke, but I couldn't figure out who was playing it. Was it Love on the label? The label on us? Then it finally struck me: it was everyone on Courtney. The reality is, this record is just sad, and not in a emotionally-semi-profound Rihanna sort of way (I am surprised I wrote that too), but in a pathetic, cringeworthy, should-this-even-be-happening sort of way. Yikes.

Once you press play and hear the laughably dated guitars that herald the opening/title track (the album's title is a play off of the title of Love's mother's autobiography) you instantly know this album is going to be a long and unforgiving 47 minute ride. Things go from bad to fucking horrible when track two starts with Love "singing" Skinny Little Bitch (the cut's title) before some paper-thin guitars propel the song towards a chorus so stock and trite, that you will literally find yourself setting a new eye-roll record. As if fucking horrible wasn't enough, confusion begins to set in as you hear the open major chord strum of an acoustic guitar that kicks off Honey; this shift change is accompanied by a bizarre stylistic drawl that sounds "kind of" like Bob Dylan (I am being careful not to disrespect Mr. Dylan) and is as disconcerting as it is awful. There are more tracks on Nobody's Daughter which Love sings in this atrocious fashion and, trust me, you never find yourself getting into it.

Right around track four is where Love calls for reinforcements and summons her songwriting brain-trust of Linda Perry, and (epic face palm) Billy Corgan. As you would imagine, the songs get a little better but the quality never quite reaches good; Pacific Coast Highway has a few moments (not at all including the worthless guitar solo provided by now lead boy Micko Larkin... Eric Erlandson mocks you), and Samantha might be the only uptempo number that is anywhere near decent on the whole album. Nobody's Daughter does have one song on it that can be considered acceptable, nigh, even alright (with no sarcasm); Letter to God actually feels like Love is connecting to some material that is honest and genuine, it is a ballad that does NOT have the Dylan nonsense and lyrics you can actually believe. You can pretty much forget everything else.

If you were once a Riot Grrrl and this review has upset you, ask yourself this: Are you proud of who your hero is? I know that songs like Violet and Rock Star were as badass as they were revolutionary, but they were also in a galaxy far, far, away. Nobody's Daughter simply isn't any good, and this isn't 1994... You know this, so do I, and maybe one day, Courtney will too.