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Maxim Magazine
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I was only five minutes late - honest. “If you were a date, I’d have left by now”, growls Lisa Lamb, flouncing back the big blonde hair and giving out a steely glare from almond eyes deep enough to drown in. Lumme. If Lisa were my date I’d have turned up yesterday, brought a packed lunch and kipped over to make sure I was on time. After all, she looks like Caprice, comes on like Madonna and sings like, erm, Petula Clark? “Well, I don’t remember Petula, but I just love all that ‘60s, pop ballady stuff, especially Dusty Springfield”. You can tell. If white plastic go-go boots could sing, they’d sound like Ms Lamb. “Me and dad used to do all the moves to the Detroit Spinners. I’d sing into my hairbrush - I always wanted to be a pop star, even as a little girl”. And now she is ... in the Sinai Desert, anyway. Because Peach, the band Lisa adorns, topped the Israeli charts. And in the States they’re bigger than Oasis, Pulp, and even Sir Cliff. Lucky, because the single never got out of the blocks in the UK. “That’s the trouble with Britain”, hurrumphs our top pop babette, pushing out a bee-stung bottom lip. “If you don’t crack that Radio One playlist, you’ll never get national airplay”. But Lisa hopes that will change with Audiopeach, the new album. It’s stuffed with a Time Tunnel mix of Lisa’s I-wish-I-was-Burt-Bacharach melodies shimmying across an ‘80s disco-plinky keyboard vibe. Like Lynsey De Paul on E luvving up Marc Almond. Kind of. Anyway, bugger art. Is there a man in your life right now, Lisa? “I did get a Valentine’s. From my Mum”. And out pops that lip again. “My perfect man would be a cross between Bryan Ferry and Keith Flint. I just love Keith’s energy. Inside I’m just like him, a wild animal trying to get out. “But for now I have to make do going to bed with my collection of cuddly toys. I bet that’s all you write about me, isn’t it - even though I’m a musician, write poetry ... and my mum made Winnie Mandela’s wedding dress!” Thanks to Jamie DeVoit for the provision of this article. |
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