Party girl and Hip-Hop glamorpuss by night, webmonkey for the New York Financial Women's Association by day and CEO of her own record company, The Corrupt Conglomerate, in any intervening spare moments, Princess Superstar is the fantastic character of New Yorker Concetta Kirschner's own creation. "I'm great, I'm great!" she chirps merrily. "Pay me money!" And then explodes into hilarity. Born in Spanish Harlem, her parents dragged her through the suburbs of Pennsylvania until she reclaimed her fate from the clutches of suburban complacency.
"I was obsessed with New York," she admits. "Most of my teenage years were spent in the suburbs and it was really pathetic, really dry, rich, snobby white people. I just didn't fit in, there was no culture. And I was obsessed with New York. I knew that that was where I wanted to go because I knew that I could just invent anything I wanted there." Unlike the slickly polished, tightly produced pop proclamations of "woman's-gotta-have-it" from the likes of Gucci'd-up MTV dolls Destiny's Child and TLC or the bitch-tough anthems of Missy Elliot or Rah Digga, Princess Superstar is a parody in motion. She's a white (hot) rapper with a nasty sense of humour, a wicked turn of phrase and, with her DIY aesthetic, complete irreverence towards her chosen musical field. She's Hip-Hop with a Punk Rock attitude and a ghetto fabulous get-up.
"I certainly have my share of people who are, like, what's this white girl doing in this game, y'know? And you're making such weird music to boot. You're not even falling into the cliché of what a girl rapper would do, y'know? With the mainstream Hip-Hop parties, it's a lot of people posturing and trying to see how many cellphones you can fit in one room. Its kinda lame. I'm really more about the underground, the small hole-in-the-wall places where people are doing some really creative shit."
Hence the ballsy pretext of Kool Keith's Ass. "I know that you're a sensitive and vulnerable man," she weedles to loony rap auteur Kool Keith on a scuzzy tape recording that forms the song's intro, "but I wanna tell you, Keith would never exploit you…"
It was one of his record release parties, I think for Dr. Doom. And I had a tape recorder and just sat on his lap and recorded it," she giggles. "What had happened was, when I was out in LA, I'm friends with his manager, and we all went out, and Keith was, like, "why don't you come back with me after the party and pose for my record cover in a thong? And he totally does that to all these girls just to take pictures of girls in thongs! Its quite a good little racket he's got going. So I was totally, like I'm gonna flip this shit around, like y'know what? You pose for my record cover in a thong! Fuck that! So when he came through to New York, I was on a mission."
Last of the Great Twentieth Centruy Composers, her third album, is a sex-fuelled, attention-seeking mishmash of eclectic genres, from the thrashy Sex (I Like) to the primitive beats of the Baron Ricks-guested, almost-pop cxome-on Come Up To My Room. She corralled some serious Hip-Hop playas into working for her through shear gutsy determination.
"I just begged, I swear to God, I begged!," she admits shamelessly. "Jon Spencer was already a fan of mine and Prince Paul, I made him into a fan! They liked my music and they liked what I did and people are really supportive of what I do because they know I'm out here running my label and they know I'm not just some stupid sell-out white ho!" she says disdainfully. "I was just persistent and I got what I wanted. And thank God… What I do, I do with a lot of humour, and then also totally female empowerment. The whole Kool Keith thing it's, like, everyone in Hip-Hop is always talking about the fat booty and the girl's thong and all that shit, and I'm, like, let me talk about the guys' asses, y'know? I feel like I'm only just now hitting my stride and I've got so much more, I can't wait to see what my fifth record is gonna be like."