http://rnrrantsnraves.blogspot.com/2011/12/genya-ravan-lollipop-lounge-memoirs-of.html

A daughter of Polish immigrants who - barely - escaped the Nazi Holocaust, Genya came to America and learned to love the country and, especially, its rock'n'roll. A lovely woman, she eventually started doing "cheesecake" modeling to make money and then, after sitting in with a band in Greenwich Village, decided to start her own group. But not just any band, she wanted an all-female band! And so, Goldie and the Gingerbreads were formed. This was in the early 60's and this was so unusual (obviously long before the Runaways or even Fanny) that they had no trouble getting gigs, despite having problems keeping members. They became the toast of NYC and even moved to England for a while, playing with - and screwing - some of the biggest stars of the time. Eventually the band split up, moved back to the states and Genya decided to start a jazz-influenced group, Ten Wheel Drive.

While 10 Wheel Drive did quite a lot and played some huge shows, Genya was never completely happy since this was someone else's concept. Of course, having an affair with one of the main guys in the band wasn't the best idea, either, and, after a couple of years, the group split apart. From there she attempted a solo career, but had bad luck with producers and management and was not happy. Eventually she learned record production and made a name for herself with that.

July 08, '05

In her recent autobiography, Lollipop Lounge, Genya Ravan recalls opening for Sly and the Family Stone when an audience member shouted, “Sly!” Ravan abruptly stopped everything to tell the audience, “If you don’t want to listen to my music, I will get the fuck off. If you do want to listen to more of my music, then shut the fuck up.” She was promptly arrested for obscenity.

If the story doesn’t quite qualify Ravan as the original wild woman of rock, it certainly stakes her claim as a pioneer of bad-grrrl attitude—years before Courtney Love, Chrissie Hynde and even Janis Joplin, the singer to whom she was mercilessly compared in the late 60s and early 70s.

“I hated when they compared me [to Joplin],” she says today, older and perhaps a bit softer. “I also understood why—but not at the time. At the time I was just really pissed off.”

Sure, like Joplin, Ravan hollers with chilling intensity, but she also has a gentler, reflective side that lets her “explore” jazz and soul with conviction and chops. In today’s music, when young singers prove their “eclecticism” by trying on different styles like Sean John sportswear, Ravan stands out as a true original. “R&B is what I was listening to as a child on the Lower East Side. One, two in the morning—my ear glued to the radio so my mother couldn’t hear it. I learned really how to speak English through music.”

Born Goldie Zelkowitz in Poland, Ravan came to New York at the outset of 1947, having survived the Holocaust in labor camps with her mother, father, and sister. As a young woman she worked as a “cheesecake model” before releasing her first single in 1962. Later, she formed what was arguably the first successful female rock band, Goldie and the Gingerbreads, fronted the jazz-funk group Ten Wheel Drive, then went solo in the early 70s. Her career peaked with the success of Urban Desire (1978), regarded as a classic of New Wave. But in the mid 80s, VH1-style everything collapsed.

“I bottomed on cocaine, on booze. I lost everything. Right after [losing] my own record company, Polish [as in ‘buff’] Records, I went into seclusion.”

Then came even worse news: Ravan was diagnosed with lung cancer.

“Oh, long story, honey. They said I had third stage and I had maybe three to six months to live. I remember just thinking, ‘What the hell is money about? What the hell is any of this about except living, breathing and looking at nature?’”

With manic determination, Ravan fought back, kicked drugs and cancer, and returned to performing. Her show at the Cutting Room will be recorded for CD and promises to be an emotional knockout.

“From performing recently, I almost embarrass myself because I am so out there. I’m being so intimate that I feel almost exposed. I think that’s where all my feelings are. That’s my primal scream.”

Cutting Room, 19 W. 24th St. (betw. B’way & 6th Ave.), 212-691-1900; 8, $10

--- David Freeland

In Lollipop Lounge, she talks about touring with the Rolling Stones, the Yardbirds, the Kinks, and the Hollies, and fronting her own jazz/rock/fusion outfit, Ten Wheel Drive. She survived those tours, as well as a terrible bout with cancer, and the stories she shares here are full of humor and compassion and a deep understanding that the real miracle of her life - is her life. But the tales are remarkable. Here, she documents her first meeting with guitar virtuoso, Jeff Beck:

"He (Jeff) said, 'My guitar got stolen ... my favorite guitar.' I could hardly understand him between his crying and his heavy English accent. Then he added: 'And my wife has left me.'"

I handed him a tissue, and he started to calm down. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Jeff Beck."

"What band are you with?"

"The Yardbirds."

"Oh, yeah, the Yardbirds,' I said. "Look, you'll get another guitar."

He sobbed louder. "Never!" He spat out the word. "Not like this guitar."

"Maybe your wife will have a change of heart and come back to you on day."

"This guitar was special."

Humor. Sympathy. The deep, penetrating wisdom of a Polish Jew/rock singer. A tremendous book. Get it and understand what the '60s were really like.