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  • Time Out Review of Strictly Platinum

    Lazy people call Princess Superstar a cross between the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the Beastie Boys. Don't believe them, because nothing could be further from the truth. Superstar is simply the personality of Lower East Side resident Ms. Concetta Kirschner, a half-Jewish, half-Italian recovering surburban girl who has devoted her New York life to looking like a Mentos as and cussing like a true denizen of Loisaida. As expected, Strictly Platinum, her full-length debut album, is a schizo combination of smoochy-smooth '70s lounge, salsa bursts, samples of dreamboat rock and inimitable beat-box rhymes. It's also an honest assessment of what it's like to be a girl down there. A typical big date is lovingly documented in "Smooth"; Kischner's love interest asks her to be his woman during a meal at Sizzler.

    Kirschner isn't mind-boggling on the mike or on the sampler, but the observations she attempts to cram into a single rhyme are hilarious and usually on the mark: "All over the apartment are cockroaches and moths," Kischner quickly complains over loud cymbal crashes, "and my ex-boyfriend says I act like David Lee Roth." When her voice is high and adenoidal, she comes off like a white girl trying to be exotic. In its lower registers, her voice gets dangerously close to Luscious Jackson territory. "I'm So..." starts off with a spluttering disco bass line, but after the first verse, the tempo suddenly droops into a repeated echoey guitar note. Then it snaps into an aggressive rant. And it all works, because Superstar is so gloss-free.

    — Jessica Willis

     
    Article reprinted without permission.