R.I.P. Warrant's Jani Lane: Top Five Sexist Rock Videos He'd Have Enjoyed

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R.I.P. Jani Lane
Like us, you are probably still reeling from the news that Warrant frontman Jani Lane, died last week. Okay, so maybe it's not a "probably" situation -- maybe it's more of a "maybe" kind of thing. Come to think of it, maybe, if you were born after 1990, you've never even heard of Warrant (and that would be a genuine shame). Regardless, Jani died last week and he was only 47, so, as a tribute, and in his honor, we'd like to dedicate this list to him, featuring, as it does, many, many scantily-attired women (which we know he liked quite a bit), and probably some of his friends too. Here's the top five sexist hard rock videos he'd have loved.

5. "Legs," ZZ Top



You know what lowly shoe store attendants need? Makeovers, that's what. Makeovers conducted by three metal spokesmodels and masterminded by two old, dirty bearded men and their moustachioed side-kick. Because if you're female, it is impossible to feel fulfilled or empowered, without (a) a shopping montage and (b) wearing frilly pink ankle socks and skirts that flash your underwear to the world every time you move. As we all know, when skirts get shorter, the ability to fight back increases. Glad that's cleared up, then.

4. "California Girls," David Lee Roth



Ol' Dave is definitely one of the most guilty teachers in the woman-as-accessory school of thought, as you'll see in this video, where so much attention is given to breasts and buttocks, we're almost completely sure that none of these women even have faces. Dave gets a free pass though because he shows a fair bit of flesh himself (underneath all that chest hair). And, gosh, it's hard to even stay mad at that goofy prankster when he's high-kicking around the place like a buffoon.

3. Warrant, "Cherry Pie"



Warrant was clearly terrified that its audience wasn't going to get the oh so subtle vagina-as-dessert metaphor running rampant through this song, so when it came to making the video, the members felt the need to include a slow-motion shot of a slice of cherry pie falling straight into the lap of an ex-Miss Teen U.S.A. contestant. In case we're still not clear, they then get her all wet with their massive hose. Nice one, fellas -- all that sex stuff would've gone straight over our heads had you not helped us out like that.

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Art_rambo
Art_rambo

What a lazy, insensitive, fish-in-a-barrel excuse to callout tired sexist videos. And it’s green, kinda 'gee-whizz,' as they used to saywithin the hallowed halls of a New Times/VV building. My god, what year isthis?

For the record, and I'm the last guy who'd defend the dude, Jani Lane wasn't a sexist pig. He onlysold his soul on the idea that he was, 22 years ago. The son of an author whogrew up in a liberal household among older, free-thinking sisters regrettedlots from that hair metal era in his life. For one thing, he couldn't wash itoff himself. He struggled, vainly. He knew he'd sold out – and he goteverything (temporarily); the trophy wife, the mansion, multiple million+selling albums, fame, money, and he was miserable. For good reason: dude hadreal sensitivity for the world around him, and he was scared. Too bad he hadshitty taste in music as a teenager. Either way he could still pen a tune; infact, he could be the only rock songwriter ever to hit the pop charts with a dittythat had an abolitionist theme and an idea from a great 19th centurynovel. If you researched him, spent a few minutes below the surface of thehorseshit metal hyperbole and recycled bios that now masquerades as musicjournalism, if you're any kind of writer (with empathy, that is) you’d havediscovered this. I hate(d) Warrant too. 

 

I interviewed Lane once, long after hair metal had passed.My job, of course, was to kneecap him, which I did and it was a shitty,thoughtless and wholly unfair thing to do, but my editors loved it and I gotdozens of hate (and love) letters. I was just a complete asshole to him. Butbefore he hung up on me I was shocked at how articulate he was. How aware hewas. The singer could continue a conversation with me on any topic I could burpup, from Mark Twain to the Tour de France. I got to understand how he dumbedhimself down to exist and function in a musical genre whose business was mostlyrun by illiterates and greedy emotional gimps. I got to understand how thisonce skinny Midwestern kid could only hold on to his name (and self-belittlement)because that was all he had. There was no escape and his heart stopped beatingyears ago. No wonder he drank. Poor guy didn’t never stood a chance. 

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