CC Martini

Tonight, I can’t help but consider my sister. My dear sister Maree is 17, and the complete polar opposite of your humble narrator. Where I am rain; she is sunshine. Where I am white; she is black- sometimes literally. My sister is obsessed with American hip-hop culture; Tupac Shakur, Biggie, NWA, all that. She does not, however, see any worthwhile hip-hop culture worth attaching herself to here in Australia; perhaps our relatively gun-and-gangster free lifestyle does not meet the necessary requirement of hip-hop life? Anyway, I wish my sister were of legal age, so I could’ve brought her here tonight, maybe diversify her repertoire somewhat, help her see the light.

Opening the revelry is Madeline Wood, an adorable blonde lass with a 2002-era Christina Aguilera midriff and a polite yet entertaining manner towards the slowly-but-surely filling band room at Revolver tonight. It is never easy to be the support act, especially when rude bastards don’t clap for you even though you indeed deserve it (is it so hard to put your drink down for one second to make an artist feel like they’re worth a damn?! Lousy Jager-swilling swine!) but Mads carried it well. Second Chances was pure head-bobbing chick-hop class.

A shock of orange hair appears- behold, CC Martini! Having long had faith in CC’s capability to stomp some sense into the music world via catchy, thumping beat-driven tunes and more sass and smarts than most of her male counterparts, I braved the furiously boogying crowd for a front row spot. When I say furiously, I mean it; considering the size of the band room, and the assemblage of patrons therein, dancing was not entirely warranted, nor desired. But, in true Melbournian rock fashion, conventions were assessed, then discarded. CC’s Double Dutch (latest single! Go baby!) is bouncy cheerleader-core- if this particular cheerleading coach was Lil’ Kim. And I’ll eat my hat if, upon hearing it, you don’t dance a little (or a rather immense amount as some punters did- phew!).

Champagne Taste is CC’s Stairway; “You got to live like you got money to spend, and if you don’t have none, then depend on your friends” she decrees, loud and proud like some hip-rock priestess. It’s hard to imagine an artist of such vivaciousness and sass being confined to a 9-to-5 job like us common slobs, but I suppose this is what makes CC Martini such a character- a dash of humanity in an otherwise celebrity persona. This is namely showcased in CC’s stage manner; whether it is playing to six people or one hundred, CC is all go- strutting like a rock star, exchanging mischievious grins with both the crowd and her band (who, I must make mention of, especially CC’s partner in crime, Tiffany- no second fiddle be she, their two violins in a pod!) and simply raising the roof (is that what the kids say? “Raising the roof”? Or is still “Boogying”? Oh how I’ve lost touch!)

I discovered CC Martini by accident- trawling through MySpace for hours looking for music to love and lust, forever ravenous in my quest- but I’ve been grateful ever since to have stumbled upon her. And to think, not long ago she was playing with Mandy Kane at Laundry, and now she is supporting one of hip-hop’s greats in immense stadiums (that’d be Eve, and you best get your buns to one of them shows, see). The only way is up, as the song says, and you know right songs usually are. My point being is that fate has shined on you, dear reader; you have been given brilliant music on a platter. And feast you shall, nay- must. Remember, ignoring my advice makes baby Lester cry.

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