LISA DOMINIQUE


JANUARY 1988

LISA DOMINIQUE, MARQUEE, LONDON

Lisa Dominique is the ultimate tease. Initially erotic yet ultimately frustrating. Plenty of sweat but no flesh. Straight from the pages of a Jackie Collins novel.

This is the special event. The LD Xmas bash. First five through the door get a choice of Durex, scotch, knickers. . . There’s a lot of lonely people in London,” Lisa comments backstage.

There are a lot of old men in the audience. Spilling their lager to the simple beat. Oh yeah, this is rock ‘n’ roll! They are from record companies. One day Lisa will have a deal, there is no doubt. She has star quality. She haunts a stage and tries, I mean really tries, to kick ass. Yet tonight’s show is hollow. Without depth.

Do you wanna f**k? she screams.

This is not sexy. This is crass. Chrissie Hynde has more sex in one throwaway phrase than our Lisa has in her lurex and flesh flash.

Yet Lisa Dominique has potential. Tonight she preached to the converted. They groped and grabbed and invaded the stage to hug their temporary heroine. She gave each a kiss. It is probably their first kiss. She pouts as they are forcibly thrown back into the crowd.

“I feel like its Saturday night…

Wherein lies Lisa’s problem. Songs such as ‘Tear Me Apart’, ‘Big Kiss’, ‘Some People’ and the ‘Saturday Nite’ medley are pure Metal convention. Nothing but well-trodden turf. She has the voice. She has the presence. Lisa is not the write-off many would have you believe.

She needs material (soon to be rectified). She needs a solid, stable band within which to develop. Tonight’s was a collection of passing-through sidekicks and, I’m afraid, looked it. But more power to baby-faced guitarist Mike Gray, who stepped in with just six hours’ rehearsal. The man is a star! I hope he finds whatever gig he is looking for.

Two encores and Mum is backstage. Lisa is going home to Hull for Christmas. The converts had a ball.

I hope Lisa Dominique can break through the publand cabaret. She is prepared to wait. She’s a diamond gal and knows exactly what she’s doing. Lisa knows what you want. Rock ‘n’ roll, yeah? For the time being please don’t expect much more.

CHRIS WATTS


JUNE 1988

LISA DOMINIQUE – MARQUEE, LONDON

Whereas most bands sell music enhanced with a little image and nice glossy packaging, Lisa Dominique simply sells sex.

Lisa walks, Lisa talks, Lisa pouts, Lisa throws a rose to her adoring following and pushes her cleavage together for the benefit of the drooling front row.

A besotted fan is allowed the reward of a kiss.

Lisa skilfully skips past the outstretched male arms like a professional and seductively slips her shoulder strap a little further down her arm. What you see is most definitely not what you get.

Although Lisa certainly wasn’t the awful vocalist I’d been led to believe she was (no Judie Tzuke but pretty good all the same) it was a little sad that music should take such a minor role in the final gig at the Marquee before the bulldozers move in.

PAUL MILLER

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