SouthFlorida.com | City Link Magazine

Concetta Kirschner's latest album, My Machine, describes how, in the future, everyone is entitled to one clone -- except for her. She's entitled to 10,000. This is exactly the sort of behavior you'd expect from a woman who calls herself Princess Superstar.

But Princess Superstar is not, in fact, on a star trip. She says the name, which has been her brand for more than a decade, is a joke at heart. "I just wanted to be over-the-top and ironic," says Kirschner, whose speaking voice is way smaller and more little-girlish than her bold raps would suggest. "When you're a little kid, it's what every girl wants to be, so it was poking fun at our obsession with celebrityism and royalty."

That theme continues on My Machine, which posits her in the fourth millennium A.D. as the world's only remaining celebrity. But the rapper, DJ, musician, songwriter and all-around scenester always faces the danger of falling into the Spinal Tap complex -- the possibility of becoming what you parody. Princess Superstar has become known as a celebrity DJ, and her media coverage has been significant. She recently adorned the cover of the hipper-than-thou Village Voice, and her appearance at parties earns boldface mention in the paper's gossip columns. This leads to the inevitable question: Is Princess Superstar becoming what she mocks?

"I always have one foot in celebrity land and one foot in the underground," she says. "I've done that shuttle a long time. I'm still on an indie label, I still don't have tons and tons of dough, and I don't have the trappings of fame. At the same time, I'm on the cover of the Voice, and I get photographed a lot. I still consider myself really underground, though."

Judging from the attitude conveyed by her album, she may find actual stardom difficult to embrace. In writing My Machine, Kirschner wanted to create a concept record, and the nation's obsession with celebrity seemed the perfect theme. "It changed a lot over three years," she says, referring to the time it took to create the record, "but I guess I noticed more and more how people became even more obsessed with celebrity culture, these magazines that care about what handbag so-and-so's carrying and whether or not Britney is fat. I was like, 'Wow, wouldn't it be funny to write a science fiction thing along those lines?' "

At this point, it should surprise no one that Princess Superstar has dipped her toe in the sci-fi waters, considering that she has dabbled in just about every other style imaginable.

Born in New York City's Washington Heights neighborhood, she and her hippie parents moved to a Pennsylvania farm when she was 3. "They were always dancing around the house," she says, "and I guess that just really influenced me." The family moved to Philadelphia, but Kirschner caught the creative bug early and took off for the Big Apple when she was 17. "I never thought I would end up doing music for a living," she says. "I wanted to be an actress."

Arriving in New York, however, Kirschner delved into both punk and hip-hop, and found her calling -- albeit the long way around. "I discovered playing guitar and at the same time was listening to a lot of hip-hop, so I was in both worlds," she says. She developed a following in the indie-punk scene but created demo tapes with punk on one side and crudely sampled hip-hop on the other. Then, in 1994, she began rapping. Like much of her career, the rap started as a joke.

"I guess I was really into it -- it's all I listened to, really -- but I was trying to make my friends laugh," Kirschner says. "And a boyfriend at the time was like, 'You're really talented. Why not just keep doing it and record it?' "

Subsequent albums, many released on her own label, have earned her a significant international following as a rapper and eclectic personality. But recently, her props as a DJ have attracted equal attention.

After a dance hit "Bad Babysitter" earned her great European acclaim in 2001, Kirschner spent more time there and was exposed to a variety of dance music, both good and not so good. "There's a lot of bad dance music there," she recalls, "but there's also an underground scene, which was fascinating and felt punk in its essence. And around that time, the genre of electro started happening among kids who were punkers, who were into '80s music and hip-hop and rock and everything. So the genres started blurring a bit, and I started getting into it."

Kirschner spent more time honing her DJ skills and joined with DJ Alexander Technique to form DJs Are Not Rock Stars, which has attracted attention for using four turntables. For Kirschner, this was a great and scary opportunity to sharpen her DJ skills. "If you mess up with four turntables, you're screwed," she says. "When you DJ, if you mess up it's called a train wreck, 'cause the beats are going off. But if you train wreck on four turntables, it's really bad. So what happened with Alex was, I became a good DJ because I had to be really tight to keep up with him. He had already been DJ'ing for 10 years, so that was really important. What was so cool about what we did was that we matched up all different kinds of genres. It was really like creating a little collage."

The one area she hopes not to progress into is that of clich�d celebrity. "I've been doing it 10 years," she says of her work as Princess Superstar. "I think people get my sense of humor; they know I'm definitely one to be self-aware and aware of celebrity worship. But I guess it's not so much parody anymore."

Princess Superstar will perform 1 p.m. Saturday on a bill with Kudu, Elliot Lipp and Apsci; a live show at 3 a.m. that same night with Peter Hook of New Order; and 10 p.m. Monday with her group DJs Are Not Rock Stars. Tickets cost $15 for the daytime or Monday show, $30 for the late-night live show. Call 305/358-7625 or visit Studioamiami.com.