avenue d
electrogogo, spring '04


I'm such a wannabe lezza. Like now. I couldn't be feeling much more lezzerban if I tried. These women are THE APOTHEOSIS OF PERFECTION and I want to dive the fuck right in. Head fucking first up the fat one's cunt. Hey don't blame me! The stage is at the right height! Their skirts are too short! The one in the silver dress, her ass cheeks ripple so delightfully! They look like a plastic bag full of water, and I want to go papple-papple-papple-papple on them with my fingertips ALL DAY!

And she's bending over and shaking it shake shake shake shaking it in my FACE, and, she's even got the same pink and black stripy knickers from Top Shop that I have! We're, like, cunt twins! It's fate. Does she look like a slut? All together now - uh-huh!

Shut up. Avenue D. Two young ladies from where else but NYC, rapping over some fantastically scuzzy tape-recorder Casio electrobeats, but don't hold that against them. Hold something else against them, puhlease. Are you a wussy emo boy? Then shut up and stick it in! Stick it in! Come stick it in! That's what they command in their first song, and anyone who's ever got jiggy wit a guilt-ridden 23-year-old boy in a relationship will sympathise with that attitude, foshiz. The following tirade of songs are just as bumptious and exhilarating as their titles suggest: 2D 2F, Donkey Punch, Do I Look Like a Slut?, Orgasmatron, and Punk Rock. Yowsa!

"are you a
wussy emo boy?
then shut up
and stick it in!"

Donkey Punch comes with a little dance routine re-enacting said punch ('gonna make you lose your lunch!'); Orgasmatron gets the whole audience shouting 'if you get bored of stickin' it in your cootchie, don't worry, stick it in your booty!', and, if you ain't heard Do I Look Like A Slut by now, where you been?

The song explains how these girls, they really can't understand why everyone keeps calling them sluts. Sure, their outfits show their boobies, but hey, their stylist is on a budget, she's just trying to save some fabric! Said song also contains one fiiiiiine attitudinal-laden Your Mum cuss-rap: 'I'm not a fucking slut you fucking cocksucker / your mum's the one letting everyone fuck her / everybody knows she's a fucking ho / sucks dick on the corner for a little blow'' - well worth committing to memory for those unfortunate fighting-with-the-ex-moments.

And (*puts on librarian glasses*) one could of course rhapsodise about the way Avenue D simultaneously mock and deride the anti-girlsex stereotypes of slutdom by announcing they don't give a DAMN about their reputations, while at the same time deploying said stereotypes as a weapon against those for whom such terms are their only lexicon - but that would be BOR-ing, so we're not going to do that.

And then… PING!…a string comes flinging off the fat one's costume, which is made up of fuchsia pants over thick black tights and stripy knee socks and Converse and a ragga-girl ensemble made of a Chicago Bulls t-shirt all snipped into bits and tied into a fishing-net hammock of pink ribbons, and the string hits me in the eye, and I'm out cold. DAMN. That's biblical. That'll teach me to wish I could lesbo these ladies.

They are the adolescent daughters of the first cold wave of electro (they grow up pretty fast these days): shimmying their booties, cranking up the beats, picking up the batons handed them by their electro-mummies and daddies, and…shoving them up their cootchies just because they can! Sweeeeet! Avenue D: skanky, sarky, crass perfection.


This review appears in the current issue of Plan B magazine. GET IT!



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