I don't think Sue P. Fox would approve of me. I mean, I don't rape Down's syndrome-stricken fifteen year-olds or anything (the subject of an eight-minute rant on this album), but I still have a feeling my cultural preferences wouldn't sit well with the wordcore purveyor. I spent my afternoon writing an article advocating the combination of pink wine coolers and trashy women's magazines, and I just got home from gleefully watching the latest WWF pay-per-view. And especially since Fox includes both a contemptuous piece entitled "Dear Beauty Editor" and repeated tirades about violence against women on her latest record, I get the sense we might have some issues. I'm not too worried about it, though-- I don't approve of Sue P. Fox, either.

I generally think of myself as pretty tolerant of amateurish feminist art. Really, I do. I still listen to my Bratmobile albums once in awhile, I used to read those "Deep Girl" comics in high school, all that. But Light Matches, Spark Lives, unfortunately, is not so much powerful as powerfully weird. Plus, Fox lacks the sense of humor that offset the more interesting displays of riot grrl rage.

After wading through the sea of discordant backing music, the occasional shrieks, and most notably, the disturbing subject matter, I think I finally understand what the point of Light Matches, Spark Lives is. It's not intended to be a pleasant listening experience; it's meant to be confrontational, forcing you to deal with difficult topics. The weird dimension to this is that it isn't just a pissed off girl confronting you, like with Bikini Kill. This is a psychotic girl confronting you. She's angry, yeah, but she's also rambling incoherently and randomly breaking into strange voices. Practically up your nose, she screams, "I am God!" then casually notes, "My breasts have been sagging, too."

While the sing-song delivery and evocation of childhood memories often brings to mind Bikini Kill-era Kathleen Hanna, unsettling statements like, "They were lying in their own shit/ How dis-dis-disgusting," just don't bring it home like Hanna exhorting girls to "Do what you want/ Be who you will." Light Matches, Spark Lives lacks polish, a coherent message, and, clocking it at a mind-staggering 74 minutes, some absolutely necessary brevity.

-Meg Zamula