Touched By A Filthy Mouthed Angel

I wanna roll the clock back a significant amount today, and talk about something that is neither near nor dear to my heart. Those high school bands who you have all but forgotten about, left to decay in the dust of mismemory and outmoded forms of distributional reach (Myspace, Tagged, Vampirefreaks, etc). As an individual who has no issue slipping from one genre to another, I was happy to pick up just about anything anyone would put in my lap as a pre-teen, so when my second serious girlfriend told me she wanted to be a singer, I was all ears. She showed me country songs that even I was willing to sing along with, and cabaret numbers that would still blow the socks off most first time listeners. She also taught me that girls have the same depraved appetites as many of their male compatriots, and that wasn’t something to be ashamed of. She was probably the only individual other than myself who had finished most of the physically developmental part of puberty. Needless to say, when there are very few viable options the ones that do exist tend to group together, and so that girl and I became an item, and hilarity ensued a few times.
One of the things that carried over from those dusty photo album memories is a little lady named Alaina Marie Beaton, AKA PORCELAIN BLACK.  As if my girl at the time already sharing a middle name with her wasn’t enough, she looked up to her in a diety-esque fashion. Despite us only being able to uncover a meager handful of her songs (mostly by ripping them from things like Myspace) she would listen to them over and over and over and over and over and over again. I repeat, it wasn’t ME listening to it, but I could TELL when she would get to certain parts just by the way she’d bounce around with her earphones in. I enjoyed PORCELAIN and her band THE TRAMPS as much as anyone with constantly evolving musical taste.
In other words, I tolerated it.
But NOOOOW, after revision and age and time and what-have-you, I listen upon these ancient relics with somehow less jaded ears. So without further ado, LET’S WEAR RACCOON EYE MAKE-UP!
With my “broadened”/”adult” view coming into play, I can actually appreciate the candor of her voice, maintain notes while giving a hell of a rasp to ’em. Lyrically, honestly, pretty fantastic. From the first line in, you can tell the double-entendres are going to be running quite rampant. I love the purity (if you can call it that) of young artists. They have either been broken so completely that it’s all they can manifest, or they have the PORCELAIN side of things, which is more like “You can’t touch me, you aren’t worthy”, and if that isn’t the clearest description of teenage angst, I don’t know what is. With a vocal style somewhere between Courtney Love and Marilyn Manson, there is actually a lot to pick apart, but not very much to hate. . .
I leave this one here for an example of the variance in recording quality, and her soft Amy Winehouse parts. Almost every songback in that era came out at a different time or on a different lp/ep/record. Though everything she ever put out that wasn’t about sex was somehow about drugs, most artists create from their environments, and PORCELAIN’s environment moved on to being featured on everything from ORIANTHI (cray female guitarist) to LIL WAYNE (a mistake). From internal record company disputes to living the high life a little too high, PORCELAIN somehow ended up marrying that super fine dink from all those Lana Del Rey videos (for like two years).

We’re not gonna talk about why I like this song the most, BUT LET’S JUST SAY I FIND IT RELATEABLE.

So, yeah! Which bands have you buried away subconsciously? Lemme know, doi.



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