By Jacob Katel
By Laurie Charles
By Nate "Igor" Smith
By Abel Folgar
By Kat Bein
By Jacob Katel
Over the years, Miami has had trouble living down its bad boy image, even among rock stars. A besotted Jim Morrison was so disgusted by the vibe here that he flashed the natives his weenie. Bob Marley did him one better by croaking here. And Bruce Springsteen stopped one of his shows cold after some jerk threw a cherry bomb on-stage.
Gabby Glaser, on the other hand, won't shut up about the place.
"My friend Jenny lives in Miami, and I am sooooo jealous," she says in her New York mutter. "She's got this huge place, like two blocks from the ocean, and it is gorgeous. I just don't understand why more people don't move to Miami. You've got the weather. And all those different cultures. And fresh juice. Plus the ocean! I thought the beach was going to be packed with billions of horrible, tacky people. Like Jones Beach. But the place was empty. And the water was so clean. Miami is paradise, I tell ya, paradise."
If Glaser were just another cigarette-stained, been-there-done-that Manhattanite, you might not give a hoot what she thought. But Glaser is, in point of fact, one-fourth of Luscious Jackson, the extremely hep, all-femme band responsible for 1994's acclaimed Natural Ingredients. In other words, a rock star.
Now, the most striking aspect of Natural Ingredients is not that it has sold tens of thousands of copies and sent critics into paroxysms of joy. Nor that it spawned the propulsive hit single "City Life," the video for which was shown on MTV once every 23 minutes for the entire month of October last year. No, the most telling aspect of the album is the fact that it was all about how cool New York City is. So if Glaser thinks Miami kicks hiney on the Fat Apple...well, you do the math.
"The funny thing is, I'd heard such bad things about Miami," Glaser says, sounding charmingly clueless. "I wanted to bring my boyfriend down, and he was like, 'Why do you wanna go there? It's like Vegas.'" The boyfriend, incidentally, is history. Irreconcilable differences. Or something.
Meanwhile, the Luscious Jackson gravy train just keeps a-rollin'. A new single, "Here," is set for release, along with a video. And, much to Glaser's delight, the quartet will be swooping down to South Florida for an April 29 gig at the Edge in Fort Lauderdale.
The last time the Luscious ladies passed this way was as part of the Lollapalooza mess. They played the second stage and had to follow a Japanese noise-rock collective called the Boredoms. This time they'll be headlining. That may come as a surprise, given that Luscious Jackson is barely toddler-aged. But the band's origins date to the golden era of corduroy, wide collars, and culturally condoned cocaine abuse. Near as Glaser can reckon, the bio runs like so: Fifteen years ago she and Jill Cunniff were just a couple of Lower East Side club rats hanging out with a bunch of too cool teenyboppers, including the protean Beastie Boys. The girls eventually had to grow up, and spent the next decade studying, working, and writing songs in San Francisco, France, and elsewhere. Glaser and Cunniff reunited in New York in the early Nineties and tried to form a rap band. "Not something I'm fond of talking about," Glaser notes irritably.
But they persisted and landed in a friend's studio. Glaser jammed guitar riffs, Cunniff handled bass. Original Beastie Boys drummer Kate Schellenbach was recruited to play on two cuts, along with keyboardist Vivian Trimble. The result was an EP called In Search of Manny, released on Grand Royal, Beastie Boy Mike D's label; it came from nowhere to snag top spot in the 1993 Village Voice Pazz & Jop Critics' Poll. Schellenbach and Trimble signed on as permanent LJs soon after.
Many critics, though, couldn't figure out what Luscious was supposed to be. The backbeats and samples sounded like hip-hop, the lush melodies sounded like pop, and Cunniff's sly poetry sounded vaguely -- eeek -- feministic. The result was a bad case of the labels. LJ was miscast as everything from white-girl rap to jazz fusion.
Fortunately, with the release of the radio-friendly Natural Ingredients, the Luscious fan base has expanded beyond critics, and fame has hit the girls squarely between their eyebrows. This has meant spending the last year acclimating to success and its attendant discontents, which include, but are not limited to:
Stupid questions from reporters. ("One guy asked me, 'So, what's it like being a girl?' And I was like, 'Uh, gee, I don't really know. I've never been anything but a girl,'" Glaser recalls.)
Many hours on a tour bus spent trying not to argue over the communal music selection. ("I'm into Stevie Wonder, the Stones, Funkadelic, the whole Seventies thing. Jill and Viv are kind of Joni Mitchell freaks.")
Lame inquiries about each band member's sexuality. (Drummer Schellenbach is a lesbian. All four are sick of the topic.)
Breaking up with significant others. ("Yeah, things just ended with my last boyfriend. I guess when your job requires going on tour, you have to find someone who's patient and who understands you may not have the energy at the end of the day to call home.")