Courtney Love knows what you think about her. She’s heard the names you’ve called her as well as the praise you’ve heaped upon her, the spurious accusations and the salacious rumors, the questions about her sanity and well-being. She’s even watched some of the TikTok videos people have made that revolve around her, though she drew the line at one where she was allegedly getting sodomized by Satan. These kinds of things still affect her, Love admits. But she doesn’t have time for that negative shit now. Love has a batch of songs she’s writing, studio time she’s booked, a producer — Butch Walker — who’s there to give her the space and time to get back what Love calls her “sea legs.”
Still, the singer knows the stories and the histories that will follow her to her dying day, the ones that precede her when she walks into a room and linger like an expensive perfume or cigarette smoke when she exits it. Ms. Love would like to set the record straight. More than a few records, to be honest. And filmmakers Edward Lovelace and James Hall have turned on their cameras and handed her a mic so she can do just that.
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