Listen up, darlings—Ms. Rizzlerina is here to resurrect a glitter-drenched ghost of glam past, and trust me—the tea is steeped, the eyeliner is thick, and the guitar riffs are *electric*. Today’s sassy spotlight falls on none other than the eternal goddess of reinvention, Miss Cher herself—and her long-forgotten foray into rock’n’roll rebellion: Black Rose. Yes, honey, before Tin Machine strutted onto the scene with David Bowie at the helm, Cher had already laced up her leather boots and formed her own band of rockstar misfits.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: Cher? In a band? Isn’t she the solo queen with enough costume changes to rival a Broadway revue? Oh, sugarplums, she *is*—but in 1980, she was ready to shake off the sequins (well, *some* of them), ditch the diva spotlight (only slightly, bless her), and serve edgy power vocals alongside some grungy, glam-dipped dudes. Thus, Black Rose was born—equal parts attitude, eyeliner, and electric guitar.
But unlike the viral TikToks and streaming queens of today, Black Rose didn’t get their moment in the pop culture sun. The public just wasn’t ready for Cher to trade ballads and disco bangers for a Billboard-busting band scene. They wanted glitz, not punk-lite grit. The album—self-titled and scandalously underrated—dropped in ‘80, sold like a soggy sequin, and faded into the shadows faster than a VH1 Behind the Music binge.
Buuut let’s be real—who does anything before Cher? Tin Machine? Please. David Bowie and his boys launched their “group of equals” moment in 1988, nearly a DECADE after our girl had already trailblazed that path in those thigh-high, snakeskin-studded boots. We stan a trendsetter.
Black Rose was more than a vanity project. It was a statement. A full-throttle, amp-blasting declaration that even the most illustrious of icons doesn’t have to stay in her glittering lane. Leader of a band? She *could*. She *did*. And oh honey, she rocked it.
So why don’t we talk about it more? Maybe because, in the grand mythos of megastars, Cher’s timeline is so packed with reinventions—TV titan, disco dominator, Oscar-winning actress, tweet queen—that Black Rose got lost in the shuffle. But if you cue up the record now (and yes, it’s hiding on streaming like a mood-ring-wearing treasure), the tracks serve up that gritty glam with total chutzpah. “Never Should’ve Started”? An anthem. “Julie”? A moody bop. And “Fast Company” might just leave your mascara running—in the best way possible.
And let’s also acknowledge: for a woman constantly underestimated by the men tagging along for the ride—whether they were bandmates or producers—she always managed to steer the ship. Even in Black Rose, where she claimed *no* name credit but led the charge vocally and spiritually, she proved that she could dominate with or without a spotlight monogrammed in rhinestones.
So let this be your glittery wake-up call, darlings: every pop phenom has their shadowed era, their hidden tracks, their moment of misunderstood magic. For Cher, it was Black Rose—and it bloomed boldly, even if the world wasn’t ready to smell the rock’n’roll roses.
Now go stream it, sweethearts. Dust off that vinyl (or search Spotify like the modern glam gods you are) and bask in Cher’s forgotten fierceness.
And remember: just because a diva takes a detour doesn’t mean she’s lost her way. Sometimes, it means she’s ahead of the curve—just waiting for the rest of us to catch up.
Stay fabulous, and let the gossip roll!
– Ms. Rizzlerina 💋
