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No natural beauty, her anger and angst cathected to the libidos of a generation of intellectuals seeking social change by buying albums and reading.— Oh, the indie kids can't resist Feist's shaggy bangs, voice so smoky it could cure jerky, and the sense that — despite her cutesy-voiced hit "1234," and duets with Sesame Street inhabitants — underneath it all there's a red-hot heart full of dirty secrets from north of the border.
There's the methodical craftswoman of recent years. Phair will back us up, too: as she told the Unofficial spokesperson for riot-grrl, leader of Bikini Kill and major player in early-'90s punk activism and third-wave feminism, Kathleen Hanna was our first rock goddess.We also love her for imparting the soundest, most succinct break-up advice in pop history. It's amused, warm, and wet all at the same time.Her look is unassuming — the sandy hair and easy smile say Sarah Plain and Tall more than vixen — but when she sings barn-burners like "Into the Open" and "Brazen", Wennerstrom demands you get down on your knees.— Fiona Apple Mc Afee Maggart's first video, for the single "Criminal", pretty much covered the entire sexual spectrum; lust, shame, pleasure, discomfort, fondness, excitement, fear, envy, awe. The song itself is heart wrenching, a dirge about lover's (or survivor's) guilt that is, nevertheless, slinky and sexy as hell.But the problem with "Criminal" is how it overshadows Apple's maturation into a far more potent woman.She smiled a lot and encouraged us to follow our dreams. And only found out months later it was Chan Marshall.
— How one makes the career leap from schoolmarm to Moses-bearded electrodiva is beyond us, but we're not going to look a gift horse in the crotch. Merrill Nisker's nom de pêche is a gender-fucking apostle from a distant future where a man is a lady, a bro is a pro, and everyone wears sarongs. Erika Wennerstrom's voice is a mountain, a blues-inflected cascade both world-weary and demure.
— The B-52s always sounded like a specific sort of good time, in their thrift-store-trashy way. You can't help but imagine your future with her. — 32) Kazu Makino The meeting of delicate, eerie poetess Kazu Makino and twin brothers Simone and Amedeo Pace (in a chic Manhattan restaurant, naturally) resulted in Blonde Redhead, maybe the most elegant band of all time.
(Think John Waters.) And kitschy sexiness surely came naturally to a band formed in a post-Flaming-Volcano jam session. You both have pretty good jobs and an apartment nice enough to have a spare room where she can keep her piano. A calamatous riding accident left Makino with little hope of singing again.
With regard to the sex appeal of the band's feminine half, Cindy Wilson and Kate Pierson are hard to rank. But she finally recovered, the band wrote "Misery is a Butterfly," and when we saw them in Brooklyn, she held us captive with her reedy voice, white cotton dress, and her mild intoxication.
Kate may've been the more iconic one (the red bouffant, the preference for girls, the muppet), but Cindy could pull a little-girl-lost thing that — depending on your own level of perversity — either tugged your heartstrings or your loins. — A descriptor like "the female Robert Smith" doesn't exactly inspire libidinal confidence in the average male. — 31) Chan Marshall Once upon a time in Hollywood, we snuck backstage at MTV's Shortlist Awards in search of a quiet place to smoke.
You may also feel a smidge of nostalgia, something Vega herself has little time for; she's consistently followed her muse, not fame. Emerging first from Communist Russia and then from the same lower Manhattan underground that birthed the Moldy Peaches, Spektor saw firsthand both terrifying political oppression and cutesy affectation.