February 11, 2004 - SF Weekly
UKE TILL YA PUKE:
The award for sexiest ukulele player in history was once an obvious choice: Clara Bow in It, hands down. That's right -- the "It" girl played ukulele.

But time marches on, tastes evolve, and the fact is, punk rock changed things. The award for sexiest ukulele player in history is now disputable. Should it rightfully be shared between the two ladies of Pineapple Princess, the GG Allin-covering, hula-dancing minxes as famous for beer-swilling as they are for shakin' it? Or might it go to the ubiquitous Kitten on the Keys, that foulmouthed yet perky burlesque queen? Decide for yourself, reader: PP and K on the K are joined by more ukulele players than you can shake a cocktail at during "The Monsters of Ukulele," a three-hour tour de force of the tiny Hawaiian guitar.

Organizer Chicken John describes the event using colorful language, particularly when insisting that after this, ukuleles will be banned from the Odeon Bar: "This festival has it all," he e-mailed us recently (creative spelling is all his). "Uke 'till ya puke. 3 hours of the ukelale, and nothing else. But then after this, no more. No more ekelale ever after this. We are giving you your own festival, but after this NO MORE UKELALE!!!!!" One wonders which musician on this bill caused him such trauma, and suspicion falls mostly on Adam Walker, often seen strumming original tunes on the Odeon stage. But then, it could have been Ralph Carney, or members of Rube Waddell or Polkacide. It wasn't Santa Cruz's "Sir Ukulele Extraordinaire" Oliver Brown, who appears for the first time in San Francisco tonight. Many other performers are taking up the instrument of the hour specifically for this event, Jolie Holland and the Shut-Ins among them. All attendees receive a free Hawaiian recording from the estate of the late A.C. Fune, ukulele aficionado. (Hiya Swanhuyser)

November 28, 2001 - San Francisco Bay Guardian
HULA LOOPED: Some bands are born of passion. Some are products of shared vison. Then there are outfits like Pineapple Princess, who offer little more to the clubgoing world than a cheap excuse to get shattered and yuck it up on a work night. No doubt hatched in the wee hours of the morning, the unlikely duo of Pamela (vocals, hula dancing, ukulele) and Beth (beer, audience taunting, and ukulele) stir punk rock , Hawaiian folk music, and the their own low-grade trash into a fitful mix. A P-Princess set typically runs from Don Ho’s “Tiny Bubbles” to the Ramones’ “Rockaway Beach” to the traditional “Na Moka Eha” and their own ode to backdoor men, “The Butt Song.” The Eagle’s outdoor patio completes the luau experience, so hang loose, please pass the poi, and insert your own getting lei-ed joke here. Pineapple Princess play with the Resineaters, 25 Suaves and the Radio Reelers. (John O’Neill)

June 25, 1997 - SF Weekly | Best of San Francisco ’97
BEST LOCAL BAND EMPLOYING UKULELES:
Pineapple Princess
The Mel Bay-worshipping duo fo Beth Allen and Pamela Shulting named themselves after an Annette Funicello tune, but their decidedly cavalier, feedback-laden live performances, not to mention the content of their repertoire–drinking, sex and more drinking–would probably put the former Skippy spokeswoman firmly off her feed. In addition to snappy originals like ”Roll Out the (Malt Liquor) Barrel” and “The Butt Song,” Pineapple Princess give standards by KISS and the Ramones the uke-till-you-puke treatment. Their mission to create a world of ukulele appreciation has also produced Kiss My Pineapple, a two-issue zine project featuring stories on uke stylists past and present, historical factoids, and even and interview with original Pineapple Princess Annette.

Portland Mercury
Ukuleles Finally Get Groovy
Review of film "Rock That Uke"
Sooner or later, everything gets its time in the sun. Here, in the ongoing progression of creative ways to out-punk the post-punks ad infinitum, the plunky, bitty ukulele takes its turn. Rock That Uke documents a number of musicians who've taken up the pygmy instrument as a primary voice in their compositions. The film is often funny, as a goofy cast of characters attempt to impress upon the viewer how and why the ukulele has made such an impression on them. For instance, Casey Korder (aka The Rumble Pups) earnestly explains, while dressed in a full cow suit, that a) he used to do a lot of drugs and b) it's possible that ukuleles were a gift to earth from aliens.

Some of the musicians featured are fascinating, like Carmaig de Forest, a stuttery punk with a truly unique tone, and Oliver Brown, whose open-mouthed geek songs are hilarious and dead earnest. Others are godawful, like Pineapple Princess, a female, electric ukulele duo that sucks almost as hard as it tries. One of the best quotes in the film is a comment made by one of their uke colleagues: "I respect them for not having improved for so long."

A dwarfish, shrill cousin to the conventional rock guitar, the ukulele is a perfectly logical successor in the chain of punk ethos, subverting the brassy, arrogant phallus, making irritating sounds, and so forth. Rock That Uke introduces us to a man who pushes the envelope with the concept of a uke player's mentality by creating a quasi religion called "Ukulele Consciousness." (The guy in the cow suit is a member.)

Rock That Uke manages to be subtly hysterical, in the tender, hands-off way that makes documentaries so precious. It serves its subject well, introducing some interesting uses for the ukulele, making it seem cooler, inspiring, and versatile. It's also self-conscious and funny, given that it's impossible to pick up the thing with an entirely straight face--and, naturally, that is its most embraceable quality.
(Marjorie Skinner)