the new new yorker has an article about cat power the writer compares her to bjork,pj and tori...and thinkning about pj, look at the song shilengigh, with its piss, its fury, its refusal to play the games chans playing or is this love, with her fucking cock rock with its own symbol sets.

pj shouts, tori fucks the piano bench, bjork wears swan dresses to the oscars, chan does this soft sell, im really shy, please love me schtick, and this photo is proof i think.

mr big photographer, wanna see my pubic hair, want me to connect to daddy dylan, want me to look thin and bedraggled so a million indie boys think they can take me home and take care of me, it will get me a new audience...sure sure sure.

its only slightly less pathetic then liz phair and the matrix.