Tag Archives: singer

Frankie Cocozza

27 Sep

Frankie Cocozza

“I want to get lots of girls” the pug-faced cheeky chappy from Brighton (by way of Malia! WAHEY!) tells the judges. Then he gets his bum out to show the panel, the whooping crowd and the whole bloody country the tattooed names of all the girls he’d presumably boned while in Malia. The names are still visible, but the hairy bumcrack is blurred out. This was to save The X Factor’s producers’ skin – they were given a wrap on the knuckles by Ofcom after broadcasting Rihanna and Christina Aguilera’s raunchy performances in last year’s finale. It was also, I like to think, blurred out so that not one young girl’s notion of smooth, groomed heartthrobbery could be thwarted by the appearance of wiry curled hair on a Syco darling’s bumhole.

But that’s not the hair I want to discuss. The only hair that makes Frankie Cocozza of any worth to anyone – his eyebrows, though not as offensive as many of his fellow contestants’, appear to be slugging their way around his face – is his head hair. His voice lacks the pizzazz of his surname – Gary said the 18-year-old scamp has “Rod Stewart vocals”. But the fist of pure emotionlessness forgot to mention that the vocals he meant were the yelps he’d imagine the feather-haired troll emitted when he discovered Benicio Del Toro had got his daughter up the duff and finally had a taste of his own salty medicine.

Frankie’s similarity to Rod Stewart starts and ends with his inability to keep his pants on. Not only did he drop trow in front of the bloody nation, but with rumours flying – doubtless greenlit by the show’s PR officers – that he bonked a female contestant on the bootcamp round, it appears the lad is just as quick to get his end away as he is to hit a flat note.

Arguably, Frankie’s got some charisma. The type of Olly Murs/Robbie Williams ITV1 Saturday evening charisma which is so anemic it must be subsidised with either trousers so tight you can tell he’s not circumcised or monthly injections of testosterone. The type of charisma that also needs a hat or a quiff to really work.

Or, in Frankie’s case, a thick, lustrous head of hair. He’s done the Shane from The L Word look with the same audacity that only the most feckless of lesbians in the mid-2000’s could do. It’s a great cut. We, as lesbians, like to distance ourselves from it because it’s all a bit cliché to mooch around like Shane, and trends tell us that hair’s to be swept up off of our foreheads unless arranged in a neat bowl. Our own micro-society tells us to hold back from The Shane.

But Frankie probably hasn’t done like his namesake on Lip Service (shit, remember Lip Service) and borrowed his hair from Shane. He’s just let a Justin Bieber ‘do grow out and all of that time rolling about in bed (or his natural Italian curl) has done the rest. The Shane is a brilliant haircut and we shouldn’t relegate it to a ‘don’t’ ‘do simply because it was at the height of lesbian cool years ago. I am 110% anti-Frankie, and would rather see Kendro perform sex acts on one another than him rasp his way through The X Factor’s final . But his one redeeming quality, perhaps his only redeeming quality, is absolutely classic lesbian hair.

Theresa Wayman of Warpaint

27 Jun
Theresa Wayman by Brodie Ukitake

Theresa Wayman by Brodie Ukitake

Growing your hair out’s a bitch. But an end result half as good as Theresa Wayman’s could probably be the best incentive to go through that naff stage where everyone’s comparing you to Nick Carter/Anthea Turner/Celine Dion circa 1994. The multi-instrumentalist and vocalist for Los Angeles murmur-rockers Warpaint most probably isn’t a lesbian (although our gaydar suggests otherwise, our sources insist on her heterosexuality), but she’s got this swagger. Her charisma and her hair (and perhaps her slightly toned down grungey music) hearkens back to Kurt Cobain, who similarly covered his face up with straggly, hair when he sang, yet, similarly, didn’t look as if he smelt too bad. Theresa looks as if she smells really pretty, but still has masculine, un-pampered locks. When all too many girls are going for the little Sikh-boy bun on top of the head, or dip-dyeing their roots bright pink, she’s just letting it all hang out, which is sexy. Julie Burchill once said that a woman behind a guitar looks as unnatural as a dog on a bicycle, but tbh, I think dogs on bicycles look awesome, as does Theresa Wayman. Whenever she plays, she doesn’t only look natural, but totally in command. If Julie had seen Warpaint at Glastonbury, she would be eating so many of her own hats – fedoras, trilbies, sunhats, whatever hat she has – that she’d be hauled up by ITV to talk about her fabric-munching ordeal on This Morning. And she’d weep while clinging to the sofa, trembling and moaning in her soft voice: ‘Oh, Schofe, I just… I just. Didn’t realise how wrong I was!’ in-between gobfuls of shirt.

NB Honourable mentions to the rest of Warpaint. Who are fantastic.

Kim Ann Foxman

24 Mar
Kim Ann Foxman

Kim Ann Foxman

Apologies this post comes so late. I’ve been tied up putting together some videos for EastBound magazine. I’ve been so busy that I never got to see Kim Ann Foxman DJing at Corsica Studios for Club Motherfucker.

Unfortunately, it might be a while before I get to see her DJ at a lez night. Because she’s just told ArtRebels.com that she doesn’t like to play for lesbian crowds. She said:

“I try not to focus on the lesbian aspect. I am rather a DJ that happens to be a big homo. Music comes first. I don’t really play at many lesbian events because usually lesbians don’t love my music anyway and I feel that they usually have annoying requests. Lesbians are a tough crowd; not all, of course, but generally I think they are. I love to play for mixed parties, where it is about the music and I love to play for gay boy parties too.”

And I totally gets what she means. It goes all the way back to the mid 1970s. Either the disco scene was too flamboyant for lesbians, or they were  deemed too short to be let in to Studio 54, Paradise Garage and The Limelight. So lesbians never got to appreciate disco/soul/deep house. And you can hear it nowadays. Gay nights tend to play housey, uplifting and vocal music, and people dance around without inhibitions. Lez nights tend to play grime, indie rock and bassline. And they don’t dance, they nod.

But, pleasingly, gay/lesbian music is merging. The apex of this being Lovebox’s polysexual day, which is essentially Pride without all the geeks.

Kim Ann Foxman accompanied Hercules and Love Affair there last year. She resides within the beautiful genre of soulful Chicago house. I think her hair was the same then as it is now. Not gimmicky, just messy on top, tidy at the sides, and cute.

Robyn

8 Mar
Robyn

Robyn

To celebrate International Women’s Day, the Guardian put together a list of their top 100 women. Quite a few are eligible for this blog, too. However, let’s give a shout out to Robyn, who’s recently had to postpone a couple of gigs in the UK due to health issues. GET BETTER, REEZY (?).

Instead of pestering her PR for tickets to see the peppy Swede play the Roundhouse last week, I went to Twat Boutique, which is certainly living up to its name these days. Lots of angry ladies staring bitchez down, and rumour has it someone went apeshit and punched a car.

Women, we are not animals. Let’s shape up a bit. Imagine if Robyn had turned up after her gig to find a bunch of bitchy schoolgirls running riot instead of the creative-minded, free-spirited chillers we purport to be?

Of course, the official line is that Robyn wouldn’t come to a lesbian night, because she’s not a lesbian. But her hair is begging to differ so hard that it’s just bought me dinner and it’s sucking my toes.

EDIT: Appaz Robyn WAS at Twat Boutique last week. So let’s sincerely hope she didn’t see all the dyke dramz going on.

Mary Byrne

23 Feb
Mary Byrne

Mary Byrne

I always knew there was something about The X Factor’s Mary Byrne. That, or I need more than ‘she looks a little bit like Catherine Zeta Jones’ to justify my inappropriate crush on Tesco’s finest.

The ‘something’ is that Mary had a lesbian relationship once upon a time. She told GT: “I have a lot of gay friends in Dublin and I had a relationship with a woman thirty odd years ago as well.

“I’m not gay but I came out of a bad relationship with a man and, you know, met this girl who just fit the bill at the time and we had a great relationship for a year.”

The best/only thing about Mary’s hair is her greasy fringe.

Janelle Monae

15 Feb
Janelle Monae

Janelle Monae

If you’re watching the Brit Awards tonight and find yourself thinking “where the fuck is Janelle Monae?” then you’re not alone. The punchy little soulstress, who’s been taken under the wing of such funk greats as Stevie Wonder, Nile Rodgers and, uh..Outkast’s Big Boi, is as pretty as she is talented. Unfortunately none of her singles get much radio play on mainstream stations in the UK and so it seems Norah Jones and Ladyhawke are enough to oust her from the Best Internation Female shortlist. Yeah, I know that no-one but Gaga’s got a chance in hell of winning the award, but it would be nice to see Janelle get some recognition.

I was lucky enough to see her surprise set at Bestival 2010. Unfortunately, the tent was full of people wondering who the fuck she was, and one of my friends was tripping on mushrooms so hard that all she could say was “I love this so much. I’m jizzing over it, but it’s boring” and stormed out of the tent in the middle of Tightrope.

The best things about her hair are:

1. It’s big and small at the same time

2. It works beautifully with her delicate-featured face

3. It pays no attention to gravity.

Sinead O’Connor

30 Jan
Sinead O'Connor

Sinead O'Connor on the cover of Rolling Stone, October 1992.

Today, the erstwhile self-proclaimed ‘dyke’ told the Irish Mail on Sunday: “I am a manic depressive and maybe I have a suicidal idealisation where I think that dying is a better thing. But who has never thought that they would rather be anywhere than here?”

I don’t really know much about the mental illness she’s struggled with over the years (how could I?) but I can hazard a guess that growing up queer in Catholic Ireland must be pretty tough. This month marks 21 years since the release of Sinead’s chart-topping cover of Prince’s Nothing Compares 2 U, so just in case you came to this site via the Daily Mail‘s and have no idea of who she is or what she’s done, here’s the video for you.

More than a fashion choice, her hair was a political statement of rebellion against the traditional perceptions of female gender. Her politics got in the way of her music, as she was all but blacklisted from America following her 1992 appearance on Saturday Night Live where she tore up a photo of the pope. She did it in protest against alleged child abuse within the Catholic church, which turned out to be not-so-alleged. Let’s hope she’s on the mend.