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Racine: brainy blonde-bombshell’s return
Back in the twilight world of the 1980s, when Wendy James ruled the charts as the front woman of Transvision Vamp [formed in Brighton during the ‘Orwellian’ year], she didn’t need ‘malfunctioning wardrobe’ or the psycho-type behaviour of Courtney Love, to be the ‘babe of the masses’. She was a Blondie with more spank and impudence, vociferous without frightening boys with her upfront sexuality. She was a peroxide-magnet who dispatched pop-punky tunes with as much sensuality as attitude.
Alas, her band’s bubble burst at the beginning of the 1990s and in 1993 she recorded a solo album, ‘Now Ain’t The Time For Your Tears’, written for her especially by Elvis Costello and his then wife Cait O’Riordan. How‘s that for respect?! Doubt that any buzz femme de jour could get an ace songwriter to pen her an entire album?
Anyhow, the LP failed to capture mass interest - criminality in the court of taste! - and the woman appeared to have withdrawn from the vile world of music that, in meantime, has become as makeshift as IKEA furniture. So, for the best part of the last decade Wendy’s lived in New York, a life of creative freedom that has produced this disc, a truly autonomous work: self-written, self-played, self-produced and self-released.
But, woman to her manicured nails, Wendy is well aware of an image and fashion norm and the latter is supplied by Marc Jacobs. It all helps but the style is not something you can buy and she’s got it in spades, not only as far as the exterior is concerned but inside, in the centre itself as songs on ‘Racine No. 1’ ascertain again.
‘The Man’ is a Lolita-like pop-punker, followed by electronica-laden ‘Grease Monkey’ that insistently trusts forward; ‘Princess Patience Blues’ is piano driven but more of a show-tune variety than of the “Woke up this morn…” persuasion. ‘Hip Hop 156’ is minimalist pop-ditty in the tradition of [Jap] duo Cibo Matto as is ‘Cakewalk’ but the latter could be the highlight of the album with a hypnotic/ethno percussion, way-out melody and magical vocals. ‘Heavy Metal Dude’ is also electro-poppy with a nice twist toward the end to add to Wendy’s music that is elegant, softer and more economical [i.e. less rocky] than her previous band.
Mostly delivered in a breathy vocal that appears to caress your senses and touch the low-slung parts the other diva-babes need to deploy raw sex to engage - Racine’s ‘No.1’ is sonically diverse disc that relies on DIY punk ethic to fashion futura-pop with a cyber edge. It’s a solid re-intro and let’s hope she doesn’t take another dozen years to gestate a follow-up.
There is a Q&A on the official site that touches on one subject: how would she describe the type of music on the album?
“It is Goddard rock,” is the enigmatic chanteuse’s reply. Wendy is appropriately named because she is the child of our time: the name did not exist until making ‘Peter Pan’ debut.
Ms James is still as individual as the word itself. Racine could be a blonde medication against the females prostituting the gender’s pop…
8/10
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