[Trash-talk] Pop Life 2002 opinion article

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POP LIFE // 2002 definitely not the year of the woman Series: pop.1206 
Orange County Register; Santa Ana, Calif.; Dec 6, 2002; BEN WENER; 

Sub Title:  [1 Edition] 
Start Page:  Music1 

Full Text: 
Copyright Orange County Register Dec 6, 2002 

It must have sat there for two months, sandwiched into a stack of periodicals 
on my ash-stained, wax-dolloped coffee table -- underneath the copies of 
Pulse adorned by a pristine Tori Amos and a slimmer Missy Elliott, above the 
Mojo drug-songs bonanza and yet another copy of Q with the Hives on the cover.

Ah, the annual pop-strewn Vanity Fair. I hadn't cracked it open until just 
now. Hadn't wanted to, even though VF's music issue usually bests similar 
special editions from more "serious" publications, including the New Yorker. 
Must have been the cover fold-out that turned me off, a glittering array of 
today's hottest (take it more ways than one) female artists, linked arm and 
arm with Barry White, under the caption "Barry's Angels."

Maybe you have it pinned to your cubicle. It features, from left to right: 
Gwen Stefani (local superstar, Mrs. Rossdale); Jennifer Lopez (curvy hack who 
can't sing); Sheryl Crow (proud to be 40 and making the same album again and 
again); Alicia Keys (overrated wunderkind, masterpiece in transit); Norah 
Jones (uncharismatic It Girl who I nonethe less can't stop ogling like a 
perv, until her pretty music puts me to sleep); Eve (rapper whose fluffy 
leanings and woolly mammoth leg-warmers obscure her talent); Nelly Furtado 
(she's like a bird, soon she'll fly away); Shirley Manson (gripping Garbage 
chanteuse, struggling for notice after commercial flop, should be ashamed of 
herself for appearing alongside J.Lo); justifiably smilin' Barry (BIG man 
with a voice that makes panties magically disappear); and Debbie Harry 
(bombshell legend currently peddling nostalgia).

I look at it now and have the same thought I had when I bought it: These are 
the most vital female artists of 2002?

It's been a crummy year as far as femme-power is concerned. As it's that time 
again, I have been sorting through the hundred or so albums I graded A- or 
better, in the attempt to create a Top 20 I no doubt won't abide by come 
Easter. And I've noticed an alarming dearth of qualifiers from women.

Surely it isn't me. I pride myself on being an equal-opportunity praiser (and 
offender), and, as has been the case with hip-hop, I sometimes doubt my 
opinions, my knowledge -- so I'm more likely to err on the side of the 
artist. But amid two stuffed racks of discs, I've found only six acts (sorry, 
Tori) whose latest offerings I still stand behind unequivocally: the 
Distillers, Sleater-Kinney, Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Beth Orton, Dixie Chicks 
and (right, I'm a sucker) Norah.

And only two of those had any impact this year, one by resuscitating a 
jazz-pop tradition that goes back beyond Nina Simone, the other by leaving 
the pap to Shania and picking up where "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" left off.

To make matters worse in the estrogen department, we're finishing off this 
season cycle as limply as possible with utterly forgettable albums from J.Lo, 
Mariah Carey and Kelly Osbourne.

OK, truth be told, I'm really not compelled to pick on Kelly. She's adorable 
in a borderline trashy way, she's snotty-sassy (the accent helps) and she's 
got smarts, certainly enough to pretend to be a punk-rock princess and pull 
it off.

"Shut Up," her fleetingly enjoyable full-length debut, is as much a 
contrivance as her amped-up cover of "Papa Don't Preach," which is included, 
just not listed. Somehow I doubt her recording career will last longer than 
the remaining episodes of "The Osbournes," or Avril Lavigne's stardom. But if 
her celebrity and Courtney-joins-the-Go- Go's (or is it the Donnas?) routine 
will get 16-year-olds to ditch drab pop in favor of guitar surge and dress in 
fetching vintage clothes instead of like Skank Aguilera, well, may Kelly top 
the charts for weeks.

Besides, if I pick on her too much and her mother finds out, I'll wake 
tomorrow to find a horsehead caked in its own dung staring at me.

As for Mariah and J.Lo ... oh, please, do you even care?

Here's all you need to know: Mariah, who certainly can sing, remade Def 
Leppard's "Bringin' on the Heartbreak" as a bombastic ballad, then surrounded 
it with retreads of "Hero" and blather about how she made it "Through the 
Rain" without having the thoughtfulness to quote Manilow; Ms. Lopez, who 
sings with all the flair of a glee- club soloist, wrote a song called "Dear 
Ben" (and me without my puke bag), feebly ripped off the Stylistics' "You Are 
Everything" and filled the gaps with blandness that makes Pink seem like PJ 
Harvey.

(That reminds me. Note to Blender: Those albums from Pink and No Doubt you 
ranked so high on your Best of 2002 list? They came out in 2001.)

All of which is a long- winded way of reaching this: In light of this being 
the year when barely legal bores Vanessa Carlton and Michelle Branch were 
treated like genuine artistic finds and Shakira was the biggest sensation -- 
and as a prayer for a rosier 2003, during which I hope PJ and Courtney and 
Jill Scott and Shelby Lynne return to us -- I now would like to up Missy 
Elliott's "Under Construction" to an A-. The more I play it, the more I 
realize that what's good about it is actually great.

And the title speaks not only to hip-hop but the whole of pop's womanhood.

(714) 796-2248 or bwener@ocregister.com.

[Illustration]
Caption: MISSY ELLIOTT: "Under Construction" among high points of a low year.


Credit: The Orange County Register

(c) 2002, The Orange County Register (Santa Ana, Calif.).Visit the Register 
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