Peckerwood Manor

Shirley stormed onto the scene with fire-red hair, eyeliner, creamy skin, and lyrics from that time. She was perfect for the 90s, stylish, with sharp edges, and irreverent, chic, and she had swagger like the big boys with an added vulnerability that made her irresistible. For young girls, she got it. This was when Riot Grrrls came stomping onto the scene in our combat boots, delicate dresses, attitudes, creativity, punk sensibilities, and feminism. 3rd wave feminism had to happen. We needed to reclaim our bodies and agency. We needed to fight. We needed to be loud and heard, and we had opinions. Loads of them. I feel sorry for those who had never experienced the pre-911 world; it was different and expressive, unhindered by somber introspection and fear. Believe me, the 90s were fantastic. I would sit in my room and listen to Shirley like she was my friend, and I got a real kick because the boys backed her, and it was all about her. Without Shirley, there would be no Garbage. Shirley wa

I have always loved 80s music, and when there was a nostalgic revival for us 90s kids, those who had grown up around music, already knew how good the music was from that decade. For others, it was like a new, undiscovered frontier of great songs. It was the golden age of MTV, and people still had records and CDs. MTV had VJs with shows that would unveil new music that never played on mainstream radio. I was lucky, though, because music has always been a huge part of my life, and I had young parents with really good taste in music. To my parents, their record collection is their 5th child. My dad can go on hours-long diatribes about what corporations have done to music, squeezing out talent and creativity; for him, it is personal.  This album was one that was in the family collection, and the minute I heard this song, I loved it. It is hard to imagine that this song is 40; though very much identifiable as something from the 80s, it is still a standout. I don't listen to The Smiths a

"I guess she finally ran out of Lina material to steal," quipped pop music wags when Lady Gaga swiftly transitioned from being a full-time pop star to being a part-time actress and Tony Bennett's pall bearer. This was just after Gaga's disastrous 2013 "ArtPop" album, which seriously threatened to halt her booming pop music future.  Yet the road ahead was already paved with "Cheek to Cheek," her collaborative album of jazz standards with Bennett released in 2014, and her first major acting role in "American Horror Story," which started production in 2014.  No longer did she have to rely on being an "It Girl" pop star - a precarious occupation for anyone, no matter their talent - while a whole new revenue stream was opened up with acting.  Canny career moves? Sure, but also creepily pre-meditated  insist many early-2000, NYC scenesters, who assert that  Gaga's early pop success was heavily reliant on the talent, songwriting sk

In 1991, I was an executive with a NYC and London-based company and on a business trip in Los Angeles. Me and my assistant, both of us staying at The Mondrian, were rolling calls in my room when the day took a grim turn. First, we heard sirens, then the sound of running outside the door. Thinking there was a fire, we stepped into the hallway and heard the shocking news. Robert Pilatus, one half of the disgraced Milli Vanilli pop group, had jumped to his death from his room in the hotel.  When we went to the lobby, we learned from staff that this wasn't quite true. Yes, Pilatus had indeed tried to jump - after taking pills and slashing his wrists - but was talked down by police. He wouldn't be so lucky next time. In 1998, he was found dead in a hotel room near Frankfurt, Germany from a fatal overdose of pills.  That day in 1991 was the first time in which I didn't regard Pilatus and his Milli Vanilli partner, Fabrice Morvan, as some sort of pop music joke, or a silly footnot

On December 31st, 1991, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and Red Hot Chili Peppers played at Cow Palace in Daly City, north of San Francisco. I wasn't even a teen, but my dad took us to the show because my older brother was a skater, and the older skater boys were going, so he wanted to as well. Pearl Jam played first, and I remember watching in awe as Eddie Vedder climbed all over the scaffolding with his long hair flying around, growling through the songs. It was like nothing I had seen before, and my heart was in my throat. But it was Nirvana whose set was so electric, so special you could tell you were watching something important. The Chilis were supposed to be the stars, but the night belonged to Nirvana. Little did I know that show would mark a turn in the music landscape, and rock and rollers and hair bands were over. One musician said, "Nirvana came on the scene, and we were over". These guys weren't about to go on stage in drag; these guys rolled out of bed, played and,

Who is Miss Kitty Haywood? I had no idea when I clicked on the song, "Excuse Me I've Got A Life To Catch," but I instantly realized that in addition to being a bangin' R&B tune, this was my new morning alarm for my iPhone. How can you not wake up in a fantastic mood while hearing this song? Kitty and the Haywoods, I discovered, was comprised of Chicago-based Marilyn Haywood, aka "Kitty," and her sisters Vivian, Mary Ann and Vivian's daughter, Cynthia. Their first LP, "Love Shock," didn't come out of nowhere, since Kitty had long been singing background for a bevy of top performers of the day, like Curtis Mayfield and Aretha Franklin. Sadly, the album, along with their follow-up LP, "Excuse Me I've Got A Life To Catch," didn't move the needle as much as their record company had wanted, so it was the last we heard of the group. Even more unfortunate for those of us today, their albums are not available on Spotify or any

If you haven't listened to jazz vocalist Dakota Staton before, prepare to be wowed. A few years back, I was trolling around YouTube, as one does, and it kept suggesting that I listen to Dakota Staton, who this white boy had never heard of (because there's only so much music and so many singers I can keep in my noggin). After repeated Dakota suggestions from YouTube, I clicked on this... ...and fell in love. "Let Me Of Uptown" is sure to raise your heart rate with its blaring trumpets - and Dakota, a human trumpet who epitomizes "brass" and "sass." Yet she's so much more than that; she transcends every genre of song she takes on.  Dakota's career, I soon learned, started out with one hit LP, but it was to be her last. Though she continued recording and was adored by musicians (especially) and critics, she never quite caught on with the public. Yet she was determined. Once her major-label record company cancelled her contract, she hooked up w

  Video Vault is a new feature we're going to experiment with as an occasional post. PM writers will take turns posting vintage music videos of bands / entertainers they enjoy,  share a snippet about it -  such as why they like or hate the video,  info about the band, etc. Focus will be on vintage videos (10 years & older).  To kick things off, I selected "Girl in Trouble" by Romeo Void. The video was released in 1984. Romeo Void was a new wave/post punk band formed in San Francisco by four friends: Debora Iyall (singer - her name is pronounced "Day-Bo-Rah" as it's the American Indian pronunciation of it), Benjamin Bossi (saxophone), Frank Zincavage (bass guitar), and Peter Woods (lead guitar). Their first drummer quit shortly after their debut video of  "Never Say Never".  They went through several drummers until they found Aaron Smith, a professional session drummer. L to R: Aaron Smith, Debora Iyall, Peter Woods, Frank Zincavage, and Benjami