Gold Medal
Long gone are the days when the Donnas were perfect teen-movie soundtrack fodder. As the fair maidens of new hair-metal, they’re a little like the missing link between Angus Young and Courtney Love.
Tanya Sweeney, 05 Nov 2004
When it comes to four comely Californian babes with guitars and a neat line in Cramps-style riffery, the potential for novelty is huge. When listening to the Donnas though, the trick, one assumes, is to look past this girlish veneer of the band.
Long gone are the days when the Donnas were perfect teen-movie soundtrack fodder. As the fair maidens of new hair-metal, they’re a little like the missing link between Angus Young and Courtney Love.
On occasion, the Donnas oscillate between derivative, faux-rebellious frivolity, and accomplished minimalist punk. Still, as the (homecoming) queens of the stone age, they do angst-addled punk a damn sight better than their teen-rock counterparts (Good Charlotte et al.). Then again, if they’re trying to secure their rock credentials, why wheel in Avril Lavigne collaborator Butch Walker for production duties? It’s authentic teen rock all right, but with an unmistakeable coat of Maybelline gloss.
‘I Don’t Want To Know’ is a nicely hefty slab of proto-punk, and opens with a killer riff, the effects of which are all but nullified by one too many cheerleading chants. Smack bang in the middle of the album is the decidedly folky, Coral-esque single, ‘The Gold Medal’, which effectively wakes the listener from their air guitar reverie. ‘Fall Behind Me’, on the other hand, is big on both testosterone-heavy guitars and tuff-girl attitude.
Lock up your sons, Palo Alto’s finest have finally grown up. And the moshpit is a much more pleasant place for it.
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