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  • Tribe Review of Strictly Platinum

    This is a supersly, jawdropping, tricky-ass disc even if it's on a Canadian Indie. Plus, Concetta Kirschner is thrilling. You will want her even if she's from Philly. She's ultra Luscious Jackson breastfed on Jon Spencer. Gossamer and sultry like the James Bond music she samples, Superstar can be as dumb as the Beastie Boys slamming to Billy Squier's "Stroke." The goofy yum talk and strummy paranoia you feel in these loosely arranged demo loops give this album an unpolished resonance, and I'm telling you if you hear this you will wonder aloud - what the hell is this silly white-girl love, and can I move into a Versace ad as her Kikko underpants?

    — K. S.

     
    Article reprinted without permission.