The Donnas : Turn 21
If girls can love Eminem, boys can dig this.
Forget that old reductive rhetoric of knee-jerk,
old-skool feminism. All men aren’t bastards. They’re [I]target practice[/I]. At least, according to the doctrine of The Donnas, four girls who treat the weak, the foolish, and the criminally stupid with the same compassion they’d use on a spider in the bath. For Donnas A, C, F, and R lift their moves, their riffs, and most alarmingly, their attitude, from AC/DC and The Ramones, Donna A’s trail-of-deadpan vocals leading the way through rock so unreconstructed it could daunt Sherpas. Theirs is a streamlined cool, the kind of posturing that could make Fred Durst and his testosterone-addled ilk hide under their comfort blankets.
Fears that of-age girls playing the teen goat might seem like superannuated B-movie adolescents are quickly swatted by vicious opening put-down ‘Are You Gonna Move It For Me’. While other bands who trade on the myth of the cool teen [I]fille fatale[/I] (Lolita Storm, for example) come over like the content of a sad-man website, The Donnas are utterly convincing, whether appropriating the prehistoric on-the-road attitudes of ’40 Boys In 40 Nights’ (“I got no time to see the sights”) or the fabulous stalker-crushing ‘You’ve Got A Crush On Me’ (“but you’ll never get past my caller ID”). Forget that idiocy’s not
gender-specific: if girls can love Eminem, boys can dig this. Righteous, sisters.