Samantha ronson dating lindsay lohan
True Hollywood Story should run out and buy the album for a vivisection of their love match.
Spanning a mashup of disparate genres including garage rock, ‘80s pop, hip-hop, and acoustic lullabies, sounds alternately freewheeling and yearning; one song manages to chronicle the heartache and chaos of a bad romance—with Li Lo?
Until recently, Samantha Ronson’s public displays of contempt left little room for misinterpretation.
Paparazzi shots of the superstar DJ—who commands top dollar to spin records on the glittering Hollywood-Vegas-Downtown N. C.-Dubai party circuit—tend to linger on her patented scowl.
So you want a big picture of me smiling while you talk shit about me?
I try to not have anything I do be dictated by what others expect.”What few outside Ronson’s close circle of friends expected, however, was her self-released and deeply personal debut album, Chasing the Reds—a CD that showcases the performer’s sensitive side as a singer-songwriter and arrives at a time when Ronson is still mainly known for something she’s not particularly eager to discuss.
“I’ve had so many rumors about me, say whatever you want,” Ronson said.
Some of Hollywood’s biggest names in music, movies and TV have suffered unpleasant splits over the years, from Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake to Rihanna and Chris Brown to Taylor Swift and Calvin Harris.
Never mind that the Island Def Jam–distributed imprint’s roster was dominated by hardcore hip-hop artists in those days. '”But when Dash and Jay-Z acrimoniously dissolved their partnership and Island Def Jam top brass defected to Atlantic Records, Ronson’s album went into purgatory.
Ronson landed a deal as the self-described “white girl with the acoustic guitar on Roc-a-Fella.”“Damon used to say, ‘You want some of the money or all the money? Although she never stopped writing and performing personal songs for her My Space page, she devoted herself full time to DJ'ing.
It’s her default expression and one that prompted the New York to label Ronson a “sourpuss extraordinaire,” as if her ever-present dangling Marlboro and penchant for raising a middle finger in defiance didn’t already confirm that perception.“I scowl in pictures because I don’t want a fucking camera in my face,” Ronson, 34, recently explained, seated in her art-filled luxury condo in Venice, Calif.
“Let’s face it: most of what people write is not friendly.