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  • X-Ray Show Review - November 2002

    Northsix, Brooklyn

    Hip Hop's fruitiest petite phwoar, Princess Superstar is the gangsterlicious bad babysitter who's "kinky like pubic hair." But while getting lyrically debaucherous is easy on vinyl, tonight is trickier. It's last exit Brooklyn on her tour, and la chica Conchetta—the crown Sicilian-Russian-Polish-New York rapper—is partying at LadyFest, the toe-curlingly PC festival of "gender pop" that is sappier than a forest of maple trees. Not that Princess is put off by the small army of homegirls-with-hairgrips clustered down the front. Tonight, she flicks her eyelashes and twirls her bottle-blonde hairflicks like a dirty Lady Diana. She's the people's Princess, in fact. Keeping it real.

    An FBI leotard showing off her baddass ("You can take down my vital statistics," reckons a female heckler), a toy gun at her hip, and rhymes that put the "grrr" into LadyFest's grrrl power, Princess comes on like Lil' Kim with a posh purr. She's "so undercover I could be a mattress;" she wants to "own everything like I was an apostraphe." There's porno electro-sleaze by the bucketload—when she pours a bottle of Volvic down her cleavage during 'Wet Wet Wet', the crowd goes into raptures—but also yawnbusting wit that plastic pistol-whips her rhymes into touch. Plus, 'Super Fantasy' sees her parade about in a Byzantine tiara and bitch coat before stripping, robotic dancing, then rolling on the floor simulating sex with her microphone—cool.

    A troupe of naked, dancing women in Christmas tree lights prance on stage for the encore, but not even the sight of flashing wobbly booty can de-sex the festive vibe. Princess Superstar is the only Brooklyn badass to strip rap's filthiest Kool Keith down to his Hawaiian boxer shorts and still get "sexists begging to make me breakfast." She's a Superstar and proper rap royalty: hip hop hooray.

    - Amber Cowan

    Article reprinted without permission.