Seen around: Cherry Vanilla...
"HONEST, I had to be dragged here," he said, "but she's the best thing I've seen."
A common opinion at The Affair, Swindon, last night, and as the only one in step I mustn't be too rude about Cherry Vanilla, Queen Mother of Gutter Camp.
If rock 'n' roll works through subliminal sex, Cherry of the day-glo hair and torn black shorts and stockings, tries to do it the other way round.
Sing? She can't, to save her life. But she's gutsy, raw and trying hard to get out to the audience. That's where she clearly succeeds.
And for the kind of below-the-belt whammo stuff she puts out the songs are pretty good, thoughtful and well-written. Cherry also has a fine tight band, which she manages to inspire to great things (though they are capable of getting off on their own).
And the touch of class comes from a terrific pianist (1 said pianist) called Zecca.
Support band The Police were marginally more musical than a Panda siren, marginally less coarse than the thudding of truncheons on the heads of peace demonstrators.
They're OK on the beat, but they don't deserve promotion.
(c) Swindon Advertiser
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