Forget the constant threat of World War III or imminent environmental collapse – you know that the planet is screwed when the band of the 33-year-old girl from What's Eating Gilbert Grape makes an album that rocks harder than a swarm of burly bikers at a wrestling match.
Four On The Floor is that album, and Juliette And The Licks is that band. Yes, Juliette as in Juliette Lewis from Cape Fear and Natural Born Killers. And, just to add to the demented brilliance of Four On The Floor by Juliette And The Licks, it looks like Juliette Lewis has taken up rocking out while dressed up like a red indian now.
You can tell a lot by an actor's personality by the sort of records they produce. For instance, there's the dead-eyed commercial ambition of starlets like Jennifer Lopez and Lindsay Lohan, Bruce Willis' desperate attempts to convince listeners of The Return Of Bruno that he's just a regular, red-blooded, bluecollar schmuck like you, the ludicrous 'I am an ARTIST' ravings of Russell Crowe. And then there's Minnie Driver, but we don't talk about her.
So, with this in mind, what does Juliette Lewis want to tell us with her new album Four On The Floor by her band Juliette And The Licks? Well, after a few listens, we've decided that Juliette Lewis wants us to think that she's a freaky lunatic who probably doesn't wash as much as she should. Because – make no mistake – Four On The Floor is a barmy old rollercoaster of a listen. If you've heard first single Hot Kiss – or even seen the fantastically unhinged Hot Kiss video – you have an idea what to expect from Four On The Floor. Hot Kiss is still probably the best thing that Juliette And The Licks have ever done; the song's demented shrieking, harebrained riff and gleeful "Your little girl wants to ffffff…" breakdown would make the tune memorable even if it came from a woman who didn't take her top off a few times in Strange Days.
However, that's not to say that rest of Four On The Floor by Juliette And The Licks is substandard. In fact, so desperate is Juliette Lewis to appear genuine and authentic that the album sort of acts as a kind of breathless tour of all of modern rock's stopping points. While no rock album fronted by a female can escape the obvious Courtney Love comparisons, Four On The Floor sees Juliette And The Licks ape The Hives brilliantly on tracks like Hot Kiss and Smash And Grab, dabble in gormless bubblegum rock on Sticky Honey (sample lyric: "money money money money/ sticky sticky sticky honey") and manage to tip their hats to both Won't Get Fooled Again and Centrefold by J. Geils Band at the same time during the genuinely thrilling Get Up.
Four On The Floor by Juliette And The Licks isn't a perfect album by any means, though, and its weakest points are inevitably the moments where Juliette Lewis eases off on the fantastic daftness of it all and tries to set her stall out as a serious artist. Purgatory Blues is bad enough with its widdly widdly guitars that make you feel as if Juliette And The Licks are doing nothing more than angle for the next American Hot Rod theme-tune, but Four On The Floor closer Inside The Cage is almost exclusively terrible; as well as contravening the 1998 Ripping Off Nirvana Act, it's also cripplingly serious – if we're right in presuming that "the cage" that Juliette Lewis "wastes" inside is a metaphor for fame, then it's a stunningly bad move on her part and she may as well called the song Oh Boo Hoo Hoo I'm A Millionaire Actress Who's Bumped Naughties With Brad Pitt And I'm Sad Because My Life Is So Tough. And sticking Inside The Cage down as the final track on Four On The Floor just makes it seem even more preposterously self-important.
That's just a quibble though – we'd much rather listen to Four On The Floor by Juliette And The Licks than anything that Russell Crowe, Jennifer Lopez or Bruce Willis decide to release. But, sadly, Four On The Floor by Juliette And The Licks doesn't quite manage to take the title of definitive loopy filmstar album of all time – it comes close, but anyone who's heard Take Your Love And Shove It Up Your Big Fat Ass knows that Vincent LeGuardia Gambini Sings Just For You by Joe Pesci will always remain the daddy.
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[story by Stuart Heritage]