Joan Jett's ambitions have remained constant since the age of 15, when she formed all-girl metal rock band the Runaways and defiantly informed an indifferent country that she wanted to go where the boys go. Although the passing of time has toned her skills as a white noise guitarist to a fine ear-piercing point, and although she can finally scream through the wall of electricity, what changes there have been are less of intention, more of ability to follow these intentions. The Runaways were despised in America for several reasons; their manager Kim Fowley hyped them to hell and back as sexual titillation for horny young men (99% of their Yank audience; was male) and this repelled the rock critics who might have built their reputation. This country couldn't handle five hedonistic jailbaits using the r’n’r dream to no greater purpose then having fun fun fun. The band themselves were aggressive amateur musicians, and if in Europe and Japan the noise annoys gangbang throttle riffs of things breaking down were accepted at face value, over here it was pre-punk product perfect time. The Runaways were never a great group, which is OK because they could be very good. But by the time they were getting good with the ’77 Waiting For The Night—an attempt to legitimitize, through a comprehension of the gender cliches they twistedly propogated, their vision of the rock lifestyle—it was too late. They couldn’t dodge their bad reputation, and in 1979, they gave up.

Three years later and things are a little different for Joan Jett...“It’s like all of a sudden—nobody would look at the Runaways, they’d laugh. Everybody really slagged us, everybody: no radio play, all bad press. Then the Runaways break up and you try this and you leave and you come back and finally. FINALLY...”