Lesley’s Turn To Fly
Mercifully, Barry Manilow and Peter Allen are on the audience side of the tiny checkerboard stage. The place is Reno Sweeney New York, and the reason is Lesley Gore, who scalded her name into rock and roll history (retroactively) with its first feminist anthem, “You Don’t Own Me.”
Now and then: Wanna buy a used crybaby?
Lesley’s Turn To Fly
By
Carola Dibbell
Mercifully, Barry Manilow and Peter Allen are on the audience side of the tiny checkerboard stage. The place is Reno Sweeney New York, and the reason is Lesley Gore, who scalded her name into rock and roll history (retroactively) with its first feminist anthem, “You Don’t Own Me.” Eleven years later, graphically bra-less and hard as a fist in a slinky rose gown and functional frosted permanent, Ms. Gore’s skill at ball busting shows no sign of aging graciously. Where the pudgy teenager’s version of the hit (described on her Golden Hits liner notes as “saucy”) was chilly enough, the current one is outraged, amazed, and bristling with contempt.