Veruca Salt and L7 find more than riot grrrl and crooner sounds

Anyone who thinks women have not successfully permeated every zone of the rock 'n' roll industry is obviously not familiar with the spinal tappin' antics of L7 and Veruca Salt.

Crooners such as Sheryl Crow and Jewel have saturated the singer-songwriter medium, the rising trend of techno-pop and '90s cheese has its estrogen representation in the likes of The Cardigans and No Doubt, and cultural icons such as Polly Jean Harvey and Madonna create and fill their own genres.

What's left for a rock 'n' roll chick to do besides join the ranks of the riot grrl army? What if you're a woman who grew up on punk and/or metal and you want to crunch away on a guitar but you don't want to use it to address gender issues or politics? What if you just want to rock?

You join L7 or Veruca Salt, both of whom are equalizing the sexes by officially declaring their right to be dumb.

On The Beauty Process: Triple Platinum, L7 stuff armadillos down their trousers and deliver 12 rounds of cheesy cock-rock that puts Stone Temple Pilots to shame as far as picking up on the KISS legacy.

Songs such as "The Masses are Asses" and "Off the Wagon" are just a sample of the intellectual heights reached on this album (no, the songs don't get much more intelligent than their titles, so take them at face value). But despite, or perhaps as a result of its simplicity, "The Masses are Asses" has some sort of charm in its loud, power-chord aesthetic.

And wasn't it none other than The Beatles who first attained international fame from hits such as "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "She Loves You (Yeah Yeah Yeah)"? Hardly the definition of high-level writing.

I'm surprised L7, in many ways a female counterpart to Aerosmith, didn't have a single called "Lady Looks Like a Dude."

Veruca Salt, with its newest release titled Eight Arms to Hold You, is somehow the softer of the two bands, yet simultaneously the more biting. While L7 keeps its amps turned up to 11, Veruca Salt turns it down and smoothes it out a bit, and in the process, renders access to some more potent song writing (the term "potent" is used loosely here -- remember, everything's relative).

Ironically, this album was produced by Bob Rock, who is known as a frequent producer of heavy metal albums, and has also worked with Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, clearly both an influence and a peer of these groups.

Veruca Salt is what you could call an uproar grrl band, as opposed to riot grrl. There's some gender issues on Eight Arms, but they don't apply so much to women in general, but rather exclusively to women in rock. Some of the songs seem to deal with a table-turning in glam-rock. After all, why should women always have to play the groupie role in arena rock? Who says they can't put on leopard-spotted tights, blow their hair up and make fools of themselves?

The frontwomen of Veruca Salt do it, and they do it well. In "With David Bowie," Nina Gordon and Louise Post sing "Will it ever come like it did for you . . . you want me to sing, I can I can . . . you want me to play, I can I can." Even while expressing their reverence for the duke of glam-rock, the band members put themselves on his level (and, judging from his last few albums, they've far surpassed it).

Similar themes arise in "Shutterbug," in which they sing, "She's a fool for the last living rock king." Veruca Salt remains in the generation that idolizes the stage-god -- the person who plays the role of the human ass for a living -- and the band challenges that role. Women can be asses, too.

Other songs on the album, such as "Awesome" and the current single, "Volcano Girls" are incredibly catchy in that Twisted Sister kind of way.

Don't get the wrong idea, though. Both these albums are mildly entertaining for a while, but in the long run, they're pretty useless. But then, think of all the other albums coming out right now that will be forgotten in a few months. You can already get both Presidents albums for the price of one at any used CD store, and STP's buzz is gradually waning.

The difference is, when those bands make dumb music, they get rich. When women make it, they get made fun of. Some say women who want to make it in rock have to be in indie bands that sing exclusively about gender issues, as if feminism is the only thing that feminists have in their lives. Well, not me. L7 and Veruca Salt may be nothing special musically, but I wholeheartedly defend their right to be dumb.