“Hey — I’m gonna be your girl!” Repeat four times very quickly.
Right there you have the appeal of The Donnas, a Palo Alto, all-girl, all-rock & roll group.
Very much in the speedy-pop/punk vein, upon hearing their new CD, “American Teenage Rock & Roll Machine,” on the Lookout Records label, the Gazette’s graphic artist Kevin dubbed them “The Ramonas.”
Dammit, I wish I had said that.
These girls’ music is a bracing tonic, a hoppy, poppy kick in the butt that I defy you not to bounce your head along with.
But first, a few words about their opening act at The Foothill last week: The Toilet Boys.
Equal parts Motley Crue, Spinal Tap and, well, Spinal Tap, these guys are rock’s answer to “Plan 9 From Outer Space.”
This being a family newspaper, there’s only so far I can go to describe their total and complete lack of anything that didn’t suck.
If Beavis and Butthead grew up to front a KISS tribute band, they might rise to the level of the Toilet Boys. If Hell had a house band…
From cheesy pyrotechnics that alternately didn’t work and placed audience and band members in active peril, to an embarrassing call and lack-of-response segment, to begging girls — some girls — okay, any girl at all — to bare their breasts, it was a performance stunning in its musical turgidity, creative vacuity and audience alienation.
Depending on how you look at it, they either really raised or lowered the bar for the headliners to follow.
Of course, The Donnas’ hook is that they’re really young girls making really loud, fast music, so the crowd’s mood remained hopefully upbeat.
The prevailing sentiment seemed to be: What could go wrong with such a simple equation?
As it turns out, not much!
Taking the stage in jeans and T-shirts, The Donnas plowed through their set with a minimum of fuss and rock star posing.
The lead singer, Donna A., (they all have real names too, but why spoil the fun?) looks like Christina Ricci would have by now if she had grown up, instead of out. Still neither slick nor smooth, it’s Donna A.’s awkward realness that makes her the compelling frontwoman that she is.
A rock star who’s head is still small enough to fit on her own shoulders… it’ll never catch on.
Petite drummer Donna C. is a smiling, singing-to-herself whirling dervish, fully hurling herself into her performance.
The equally tiny Donna R. is dwarfed behind her big electric guitar, but comes off onstage as the most confident of the bunch.
I’ll admit it, I was totally charmed by these girls and taken with their music.
They rocked me, as well as an entire room that had been utterly drained of goodwill by the opening band.
I’ve predicted greatness for others, but The Donnas are already there.
© 1998 Gazette Newspapers
