The Runaways: Naughty Nymphets Leave Lisa Cold

The Runaways made their New York debut at CBGB. Was that the first sign that the “scene” there was finished? Other signs were that prior to the appearance of the all-girl Hollywood rock ‘n’ roll band. Television and the Talking Heads co-starred in what might have been their last CBGB co-billing, (for Television has just signed a substantial recording contract with Elektra/Asylum, and both bands are getting too big not to headline alone), to say nothing of the implications of a band traveling three thousand miles to play the place. Too “hip.”

For days. Runaways talk ran amok. Richard Robinson thought the idea of such a group was sexist, and said he wouldn’t go to see them. “You’re making a statement? You’re taking a stand?” Steve Paul asked him. Much fun was made of the writer who had expressed interest in interviewing the band before he had removed the shrink wrap from the record.

Photographer Bob Gruen was mightily on the girls’ side: “I don’t get off watching someone like Jim Dandy trying to be sexy,” he said. “It’s a nice change for boys to have something to look at too.” Gruen also likes Suzi Quatro, presumably for the same reason.

This reporter was none too amused to read the unladylike remarks about Patti Smith made by the Runaways in a recent issue of New Musical Express. And so, at the risk of encouraging what used to be known as a cat fight, I took a stand because of that, and told the Mercury publicist no thank you, I would not be interviewing the Runaways. (They also called the Ramones “tacky”—can you believe this bit of public relations just before the band gets to New York??)

So 1 went to see the Runaways—as did nearly everyone else—out of curiosity. I’d not heard the record, and I thought they were predictably semicute. (I can be as objectively aware of a cute seventeen-year-old as anyone, but let’s say that my tastes have always run more towards Anne Bancroft or Jeanne Moreau than to, oh, Sue Lyon. Enough said.)

J ames Wolcott said that he was sure that the crowd at CBGB for the Runaways would be high Dictators—a lot of shouting “GIMME DAT ONE!!,’’ and he wasn’t far wrong. The actual debut night brought forth wall-to-wall ogling males, CBGB more crowded than it’s ever been for a good band. It was as if everyone had come to see a freak show, a novelty act, and it was more than a touch nauseating.

Flashback to an interesting telephone call I'd received that afternoon: Kim Fowley — legendary Hollywood scenemaker. songwriter, producer—telephoned. I might notice that he was not in New York that night with the girls, he said. What? “Well,” he drawled, “once a man designed a car, and there were flaws in that car, and the way the car was sold had been changed, the car was no longer the one he’d designed . . .”

What?

“Well,” he continued, “I read that interview in NME, and I thought it was most unkind. Most unkind. To everyone they bad-rapped, including me. Look, I discovered that band, I put them together, I gave them rock ‘n’ roll lessons, I co-wrote seven of their songs, I negotiated their album deal, I made them a worldwide publishing deal, I bought their equipment, and I produced their album.”

“I was like Don Kirshner was with the Monkees.” Fowley continued dramatically, “and now—-like so many bands who were ‘put together’—they resent that. And they want to—you should pardon the expression—‘do their own thing.’”

(“Isn’t that just like a woman?” commented photog Leee Black Childers, hearing of this conversation. When I mentioned that Kim really did teach the girls everything they knew, Aerosmith publicist Laura Kaufman laughed, “That must have taken an entire afternoon.”)

Back to CBGB. I don’t know why it seemed so grotesque to see ogling males rather than the usual ogling females. It’s obvious that heterosexual boys haven’t had much to drool over in rock ‘n’ roll. But it was what they were drooling over .. . this invention . . . this creation ... A band made up of girls trying to act like boys. Actually, they were girls trying to act like David Bowie who tries to act like god knows what, so where is that at?

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People magazine writer Jim Jerome wanted a beer. He looked up and pointed to a waitress, except that it wasn't a waitress. It was Runaways bassist Jackie Fox. Jackie was dressed pleasantly enough in tight jeans and a snugfitting polyester print blouse. So imagine my surprise when she returned onstage in ... an American Airlines red Fydie Gorme jumpsuit directly) out of Beyond The Valley of the Dolls. That was what this band was like, except the band in that classic film was much, much more interesting.

Onstage, left to right: Guitarist Joan Jett chewed gum (tough?), wore a far too glittery 1976 black and silver top. and a (agggggwwwhhh) diamante choker necklace. Cherie Currie—who looks more than just a little like Ben Edmonds—wore an OK black, shortsleeved jumpsuit that was ruined by red, knee-high platform boots. Both Cherie and Joan wore too much cheekbone shading.

(Jaan Uhelszki claims that Cherie has a twin sister, and that you would never be able to tell the difference . . . What do you think this means?)

Drummer Sandy West was dressed in a ridiculous silver and black leather outfit; James Wolcott observed that she looked as if she had joined the Kiss Army. Guitarist Lita Ford (who resembles a younger Maggie Bell) wore a T-shirt appliqued with more than a few rhinestones. But it was bassist Jackie Fox who was truly the most astounding.

J ackie Fox offstage looks like a babyfaced, sexy teenager. Onstage she was some mad parody with hercome-hither looks, curled . twitching lips, and the aforementioned outfit which looked like it came straight out of the Chef doll catalogue. Only a girl from California could wear such an outfit.

Look, girl or boy, a poseur is a poseur. The Runaways do near-perfect imitations of rockstars doing imitations. Ronson, Bowie, Kiss, you fill in the blanks. Lots of leaning into each other’s legs (not even dikey), bending over backwards during “hot” solos, buddyish arms around the shoulders. Not a trick missed.

Flashback to the late 1960s: Frank Zappa “put together” a band of teenage girls who were called the GTO’s. They had style, imagination, a sense of the avant-garde, and were touched with illusion and fantasy. Cinderella, Miss Christine, Miss Pamela, Mercy, were all alternately flashy and romantic, and wore outfits that ranged from Dr. Seuss to Scarlett O’Hara. As are the Runaways, the GTO’s were a product of the Hollywood dream—fame, fortune, glamour, stardom. Plus rock ‘n’ roll recognition on their own. Groupies no more. Several of them became junkies. One, perhaps the loveliest, died. That was all I could think of as I watched Joan Jett’s eyes. Her eyes looked dead.

Music? Oh, the Runaways’ music is all right. Surely it’s as good as any boring boy band playing today. Maybe I just expect more from girls. That posing, that choreography . . . oh, how I longed for Martina Weymouth’s cold, stony, sexy stare. The Runaways jump around too much. (Trixie A. Balm said that out at My Father’s Place they encouraged the crowd to “GET UP ON YA FEET!” and of course, no one did.)

Cherie kept going and coming, on and offstage, and I wondered when we would see the inevitable costume change. She had the good sense not to wear the Bette Midler corset and garter belt at this Bowery club, but did return for the finale (some song about a riot in a girl s reform school) wearing a T-shirt spattered with fake blood. With much “acted” beating up, (uery “Diamond Dogs”), and a happy-ending Alice Cooperish “encore,” then . . . Cherie actually spurted blood from her mouth. (Now where have I seen that before? . . .)

P.S. Danny Fields said that Kim Fowley was always a big fan of J ames Williamson, and that Fowley obviously had taught these girls all of James’ guitar lines. The girls, in fact, performed “Loose”—a Stooges favorite, did “Wild Thing,” and in a bit of P.R.— dedicated Lou Reed’s “Rock & Roll” to the Ramones. “one of our favorite rock V roll bands. They’re going to L.A. soon, and we wish them well.” I

“It s nice wh^n someone learns a lesson," saicl Danny Fields. Perhaps the Runaways have learned too many.