This iconic video for The Runaways’ 1976 hit Cherry Bomb features Joan Jett, Lita Ford, Cherie Currie, Sandy West, and Jackie Fox — five teenage girls who, in their leather jackets and sleazy lingerie, look like they just got picked up by a couple of horny old dudes who thought they were gonna get them drunk and take advantage of them only to get beaten and robbed instead.
The Runaways embody that explosive energy of their name and the song — fueled by anarchy, rebellion, and, let’s not forget, a touch of that teenage hormonal chaos that makes everything seem a thousand times more intense.
Joan Jett’s sneer is worth a thousand words. She’s the epitome of cool confidence, exuding that effortless bad-girl charisma that made her an icon. Her guitar riffs are sharp, like a punch to the gut, and her attitude is so fierce you could probably start a small fire with it. The video captures her in her element, wielding that guitar like a weapon of mass destruction against the mundane and predictable.
Then there’s Cherie Currie, whose vocals are a delightful blend of fury and fun. She’s front and center, practically vibrating with energy as she belts out the lyrics. Her performance is the visual equivalent of a Molotov cocktail — wild, unpredictable, and slightly dangerous. Watching her, you get the sense that she’s the very definition of a “cherry bomb” — a small, explosive force of nature that leaves a lasting impact.
The rest of the band is no less electrifying. Lita Ford, with her fiery guitar solos, looks like she’s channeling the spirit of a rock ’n’ roll warrior. The whole band exudes a sense of camaraderie and mischief, like they’re plotting the ultimate teenage rebellion while cranking out anthems that make you want to grab a leather jacket and join their crusade.
The setting itself is gritty and raw, like a prelude to a thousand garage bands that followed in their wake. The stark contrast between the bright, electrifying presence of the band and the dim, shadowy backdrop creates a sense of exciting chaos. It’s a visual metaphor for the music: chaotic, intense, and impossible to ignore.
The video doesn’t bother with pretentiousness or polish. It’s a raw, unfiltered look at what it means to be a teenage girl on the edge in the 1970s, ready to set the world on fire with nothing but a few chords and a lot of attitude. It’s a glorious, hot mess of energy and rebellion, perfectly encapsulating the spirit of the song and the era.
—VA
I don’t want the people at church to know I do this. Please don’t use my real name or photo.
