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Having
just released their third album in four years, Sweden’s sultans of sleaze prove
once and for all that rock n’ roll success exists, and thrives, outside of
America.
She stares painted eyes, radiance burning. She feels hungry fingers, subtle
yearning. Flaxen mistress, raven whore, tattooed tiger of a foreign shore. A
wicked temper but she loves to dance. Her honey tongue drips an acid trance.
She’s a starlet, through and through, rock n’ roll with attitude.
It’s a cadence-inspired myth, a reinvented tale of a heroin heroine – AC/DC’s
fast machine, Skid Row’s sweet little sister, Warrant’s cherry
pie. Now, dive-bomb flash rockers Hardcore Superstar have restored the
sleazy goddess of rock to her full, diseased glory in a broken English, back
room peep show of running eyeliner and sweat-soaked leather, cheap favors and
even cheaper liquor. And they’ve become the most famous band in the world for
doing so. Except, chances are, you’ve never heard of them.
In Japan, they shower her with gifts. In Italy, they shower her with kisses. In
America, they don’t even know her name. Hailing from Gothenburg, Sweden,
Hardcore Superstar took their homeland by storm with 2000’s Bad
Sneakers and a Pina Colada, a sleazy dose of punk-infused glam metal
that drew on myriad influences, including fellow countrymen Backyard Babies,
Hanoi Rocks, Motley Crue, and Faster Pussycat. By October
2001, they had reached continental success and the release of the more
mainstream Thank You (For Letting Us Be Ourselves) pushed
Hardcore Superstar into the realm of arena-filled fame. Hardcore Superstar
have just released their third album, No Regrets, a fueled-up,
slap-happy, return to retro rock, confirming once and for all that the bitch is
back and more bad-ass then ever.
And
for the second straight album, North America will miss out on the sleazy spoils.
Poor response to a North American release of Bad Sneakers and a Pina
Colada prompted Hardcore Superstar’s label Music For Nations to
restrict Thank You and No Regrets to Europe and Asia
only. And while countries like Sweden, Japan, and Italy participate in an
illicit affair with the long-legged she-devil, America is left to wallow in
compliant domesticity without the prospect of tasting the poison of her dewy
lips, feeling the sting of her dangerous things. Which, figuratively speaking,
is ass-backwards when it comes to pop culture dominance and its inherent
red, white, and
blue roots.
“If you are getting big in North America then you get big in Europe and Japan,”
explains Hardcore Superstar vocalist Jocke Berg in his thick Swedish
accent, stating the obvious natural order of things. “But for us, it’s getting
bigger and bigger every year. In Japan, they’re giving us presents and stuff.
It’s like Christmas every day. Maybe it’s because we have the look like
Motley Crue did in the 80s.”
Berg is the idyllic rock star, the illegitimate love child of Steven
Tyler and Josh Todd, all sinewy movements and screaming lips. His
brethren, Silver (guitar), Martin Sandvik (bass), and Adde
(drums), follow suit, clad from head to toe in colorful ink and rock star glory.
And despite their confirmed success, they’d one day like to tread the beaten
path of their rock n’ roll predecessors.
“You wanted to be like the 80s bands,” admits Berg. “I’ve never been to LA or
New York. Of course we want to go over there and tour clubs.”
Hardcore
Superstar has never stepped foot on American soil. They have been to Canada,
however, on a three-show tour in the summer of 2001, which took them to London,
Ontario and Toronto, Ontario. A one-week stab at global rock n’ roll infamy that
ended before it even began. But that was then and this is now. They’ve proved
that success does indeed exist outside North America, their album titles
reflecting a resolved reaction to the way their career has unfolded to this
point. Thank you, they say, for letting us be ourselves. We have no regrets. And
they set about doing what they love to do most: playing sleazy rock n’ roll.
“I hate to sound clichéd, but our new album is the best,” admits Berg. “There
weren’t any problems this time around. It was like a hand in a glove. Everything
went smooth.”
No Regrets sees Hardcore Superstar push aside geographical borders
by resurrecting a get-up-and-dance, days-gone-by melting pot of musical
tastiness, from European carnival escapism to American grandstand raunchiness.
Berg credits the band’s affliction for 70s punk, such as The Clash and
The Who, as the album’s inspiration. However you spin it, there’s already an
equal amount of praise and backlash following the album’s release, from those
you have it and those who can’t get it, respectively.
“I was on our Web site’s guest book,” says Berg. “It is frustrating that fans
can’t get our albums. We have to fix this hole. Without our fans we are nothing.
We want to tour a lot, meet all the fans around the world. We are a live band.
You have to see us live.”
The only question now is, will America get their chance or will it succumb to
the nature of the beast? I think Motley Crue said it best. She’s a teaser and
she’s got no heart at all.
-Jeff "Softcore Superstar" Warren
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