If my father has heard of a band, then they must be special. If my father likes a band, then it's time to have an all-band pow-wow and work a few things out. (I don't know, I'm not a publicist, but maybe add some more smashing, or an overdose, or something.) Otherwise, six months later there may be no band to love or hate, or to destroy equiptment and hit photographers.

Now, if my father dislikes a band, then they have likely created some kind of individualized musical style for themselves. THey would demonstrate an above average ability to perform live shows a lot, together, and in tune. (In short, if my father dislikes a band, then they are a band, for real.) If my mother dislikes them too, well, that is the beacon of brilliance. I mean really - get me a hanky, ladies and gentlemen, the sweet scent o' Grammy is in the air. Well, congrats in advance, Court, Melis, Eric n' Patty, mom and dad agree: your Hole is for the birds.

This has been Hole's best year ever. They started nighty-five right with a top-notch performance on Saturday Night Live, the modern providing grounds for any new act. That was followed up chart bustin' performance on MTV's Unplugged. The performance gave Hole their second Billboard home run in six months, and the title of biggest selling Unplugged act ever. Better than Mariah, and she married the record company big guy.

Anybody paying attention noticed Hole at Lollapalooza. Courtney made the long haul fun for the fans and relatively O.D.-free. Lolla eves were wild both on-stage and off. The kookiness culminated in a memorable joining of fist to face when Bikini Kill's Kathleen Hannah received Courtney Love's well-weathered fist. In one swift, spontaneous bop, Courtney re-generated her career. (I said Kathleen Hannah. Get it?) Backstage funny business aside, Hole proved to be the act of acts at Lollapalooza `95. They showcased their infamous raw, bouncy anti-funk over and over for the masses, who did want it again. There's nothing like Courtney Love rockin' it in 101 degree heat, poised motionlessly, lips rattling, leg up on the amp, in front of a disco ball spinning to some R&B only she can hear. It's uncooked, it s delicious - ssso sssexy in that scratchy, unrehearsed, wholly-O-Hole way. The audience was guaranteed to leave fulfilled - or full of something.

The 1995 MTV Video Music Awards were another bag of tricks for Hole. Courtney began the evening in a drunken fit. She threw her compact and other personal items towards the interview stage at Madonna, screaming her name, copping her make-up, and commenting on her shoes. Before the episode was finished, Courtney had shared her secret desire to be Madonna with the world, much to the surprise of Kurt Loder, Madonna, the world, and more than likely Courtney herself the next morning. The nation learned a valuable, if painful, lesson from the incident: divas don't mix.

The year has been good to Hole. The pressure of the new year - 1996 is evident. Hole will have to reaffirm their originality, their versatility, their charisma. They will have to prove that their flare is still there when the publicity tricks have worn off and the disco ball has ceased to spin. That's the business. They will have to prove that they're not just some band my father would like, but a group he would abhor; more than gimmicks and distortion, more catfights and old ghosts. Hole has feelings and Hole has ideas, and this girl predicts that, health and sanity persisting, `96 will be fuller than ever for Hole, a band.