I was reviewing a cd yesterday and, by the album's second track, I thought, Holy shit! This totally reminds me of Daisy Chainsaw!
I couldn't even put the comparison in the review because, well, who the hell remembers Daisy Chainsaw? That's like comparing a band to Vyvyan or Shampoo or any other band that I only heard on Rodney on the Roq. It's a completely meaningless comparison to anyone but a handful of adults who listened to the show through the 1990s.
My copy of Daisy Chainsaw's first (and, I believe, only) full-length, Eleventeen, was a gift from my first boyfriend, who was pretty much a jerk but had good taste in music. I considered trading it in after his trainwreck of subsequent girlfriends began prank calling me, but it was one of the few albums that could put me in an appropriately manic state to actually do things like clean my bedroom. Eleventeen was not an album full of rage, but rather an album closer to being institutionalized than anything Suicidal Tendencies did. Most of this was due to Katie Jane Garside's high-pitched, nearly-out-of-breath yelp. As she screeched out lines like, "You [gasp] be [gasp] my [gasp] frieeeeend," in the video for the song of the same name, I half-expected her to start chanting "hey nonny nonny" and drown. The long, matted hair and tattered slips (later favored by fans of Tori Amos and Switchblade Symphony) only added to the Ophelia connection (need proof: check out this and this). Back then, I was sixteen and reading Hamlet in class, so the album appealed to me in that respect. More than ten years later, though, I still have a penchant for music on the brink of madness, making Eleventeen a personal classic. Maybe I'll dig it up and listen to it again. Perhaps, it will prompt me to give my room a good cleaning.