Friday, July 12, 2002

BITCHBITCH: In a bid to find the new Louis Theroux (and didn't the first one wear out quickly?), BBC Choice is giving Anna From Big Brother a go at going round and meeting 'interesting' people. In the first show, she met up with the supposedly shocking Rockbitch. The programme established two things very quickly indeed - first, the dinner party rule applies (a charming guest does not mean they'll be a competent host), and second - just how sad are Rockbitch? They claim what they're trying to do is "walk the talk" of rock music, which in a week where Michael Jackson has been talking in public came close to being the most stupid statement of the week. Every little two bit indie band lives the rock dream; even fucking Ned from Waste shags groupies and takes drugs. And at least most bands choose who they're going to boff backstage - Rockbitch throw a condom into the audience, and whoever catches it gets to fuck them. Of course, the problem with this is that the sort of crowd who'd be drawn to a gig on the offchance the band will get their tits out, and the possibility of getting a contractual shag will consist mainly of geek-headed boy virgins. Thereby increasing the chances the band's lucky condom will be caught by a geek-headed boy virgin.
What's laughable is how far the 'bitch have failed to understand exactly what the rock dream is about - for better or worse, rock is about being the King over your audience (unlike pop, where you play a big brother/sister role, replete with sexual ambiguity, and indie, where you're a mate, and sex is seldom considered). The rock walk is having roadies scour the audience for fans who look clean, or desperate, or drunk, to order, and then bringing them back to the hotel room to make them dance to your tune for an hour or two, before sending them naked out in the street to find their way back home before school starts in the morning. That is aggressive, sexual and shocking. Merely letting a random social inadequate hump you isnt shocking, it's as sad in its way as that story about Kerry Katona bouncing on a hotel bed going "whee." You're not rock's bitch, you're your fan's bitch. Rock Gods would keep their fans with them if they decided to do a set of Curtis Stigers covers. Rockbitch couldn't sell out a backroom in a bar if they said they were going to keep their tops zipped up. We could forgive them for not being shocking, for we're not easily shocked. The real problem is their attempts to shock are so dull.

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