Strawberry alarm clock full#

It is addictive and aphrodisiacal and even makes you feel a bit dirty when hearing it.

Strawberry alarm clock full#

It is voluptuously perverse and promiscuous music, but also innocently teenage, full of batted eyelashes and wide-eyed curiosity. Just as the actresses (who comically ape their instruments in the movie) embody it, the music is full of interesting contradictions, particularly a hip knowingness played against the childlike irresponsibility of the generation. They sound something like how Janis Joplin might have had she settled in the seedy pop climate of early-'70s Los Angeles (what one reviewer has accurately described as sounding like Joplin's older and uglier sister) crossed with the early Zeppelin-esque pose of Heart, and they inject their songs with both tough-broad vigor and little-girl vulnerability. Most of the songs are performed by the fictitious, all-girl trio the Carrie Nations, who are the main characters of the film. It is a blast, too, even without the accompanying movie. Like the Russ Meyer/Roger Ebert exploito-tragicomic, satirical spoof from which it is derived, the soundtrack to Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is a cheesy, seductive, drugged-out orgy of a good time.