It means there are a shitload - and I wanna stress the word 'shit' - of people who hate, loathe, despise, and who are not fond of Courtney Love. They all have their own neurotic fucked up stupid lame ass reasons. But, that's their neurotic fucked up stupid lame ass problem. At this website, we dig Courtney and all her personalities, and all her ranting, and all her off-key singing, and all her Versace and Wasteland dresses.

Here is an account of my first run-in with Ms. Courtney Love:

HOLE is playing at The Kennel Club on Divisadero Street in San Francisco. At this point in time, I'm under the impression that the band is made up entirely of chicks - Eric Erlandson is rather androgynous, in case you haven't noticed. I'm just thinking he is a really ugly chick. Anyhow, I'm sitting at the bar and Courtney walks up. She asks if the bartender is working or wanking off somewhere else. I guess that he's wanking off. Small talk aside, I tell her I write for Bitch Magazine and ask if she wants to do an interview. She asks if I have her band's 7" single. I do have it, and it's called "Retard Girl". I'm guessing maybe she has just put me through some kinda test, and it seems like I've passed. I tell her about Bitch, that we focus solely on female musicians, etc. Courtney wants to do an interview but not tonight. Eric walks up and Courtney introduces him as 'Erica' - this adds to my already confused head. Courtney is very nice, sweet, calm and chatty. I feel like I've known her since Kindergarten. It's really bizarre.


Onstage, Courtney is screaming and breaking guitar strings and letting her tattered dress fly up and expose bruised thighs. 'Moshing' has yet to catch on world-wide, but these Frisco Freaks at this here HOLE show are in a world all their own. We still call it 'slam dancing' and it's goin' on full-force by mid-set. While I refuse to participate, I don't mind ramming my elbow into someone's neck or someone's jaw when he touches me even in the slightest manner. After an unsuccessful attempt to find my way out of what was once the front row but is now a sweaty pit of flailing bodies, Courtney kicks my shoulder to get my attention. She beacons me to sit on the stage at her feet. Preferring a more non-conspicuous space, I instead crawl along the edge of the stage and perch on the side of the stage where "Erica" stands.

I interviewed HOLE in 1990. It never made it to print though becuz Bitch Magazine ceased publication, and then I stopped writing about music. So, ten years later this very odd and peculiar interview gets to see the light of day. It's a short little interview, but Courtney has never done anything "half-way".
Keep in mind: this is pre-fame-Courtney; pre-Kurt-Courtney; pre-glam-Courtney; pre-record-deal-Courtney . . .

The L.A. music scene is pretty fucked up these days for bands who don't want to play the stupid 'game'. What needs to change so that a band like HOLE can get attention and get signed to a major label?
CL: Pseudo underground bands don't help. Rampant sexism in the industry. 'Dude Rock' just drives the knives into a band like us. People hook onto trends, which are fed to them via the industry without really thinking for themselves. People in L.A. are a little sheepish. They'll just sort of stand there with their mouths open, waiting for someone to slap a cold cut in there and tell them 'Hey man, it's cool. You can like these guys...' People think about what they say too much. Who cares? We live in the Mecca of the worst bands in America and that's why it's fun. I hate this fucking city but I will never leave. I don't know if this band's going to go down 'cheese street' in a big way or what, and I don't care either. All I want are front row seats at Madonna shows, credit at Laura Ashley, a Gold Card, and a fucking Benz all my own. If I can use this band, my beauty and vast reserves of charm to parlay myself into a permanent upper, middle class stratum - this includes alimony - via marriage to an insecure, college educated, macrocephalic punk desperate for credibility with a huge trust fund I will toss dollar bills at bag ladies and sleep at night with a smug reptilian smile on my face.
Here is my last experience with Courtney Love:
It's 1995 and HOLE is having a homecoming of sorts, or at least Courtney is. Her band is playing a small town in the San Francisco bay area, called Palo Alto. I guess she spent part of if not all her childhood here. Something like that. If you are unfamiliar with this place, basically: it's a rich, college town - the home of Stanford University. So, not surprisingly, a lot of frat boys are at the HOLE show. The small club is overcrowded and everyone stinks. I'm standing in the back with my NON-rocker date. At the end of the show, per usual, Courtney dives into the crowd. When she gets tossed back onstage she is pissed as hell. She says into her mic: "Where's the little fucken frat boy that put his hand up my dress! Where the fuck did you go! I see you, you little prick..." She describes in detail what he is wearing. Everyone looks at him. "You fucken little frat boy. Come up here so I can kick your fucken wimpy ass! I'll teach you not to touch a girl's pussy!" Of course, the frat boy doesn't budge. Not until members of the audience grab him and push him toward the front of the stage, then those audience members down front lift him up and drop him onstage. He stands and faces Courtney. She grabs him and punches him full-on in the face with her right. He tips back on his heels. She roundhouses him with her left, then kicks him in the nuts. She grabs him again and shoves him offstage.
She's a rock 'em, sock 'em kinda chick, that Courtney Love.