I guess it's never easy We all are underpaid Oh but we love it anyway I'm looking forward to it, yeah I'm looking forward to it -- Witches, "Big Rivers"
This year I had a surprisingly great New Year's Eve; I managed to actually relax and have fun, and so I woke up feeling PUMPED on New Year's Day, even though I spent it by myself, because I was excited to not be overwhelmed by anxiety. The next day, I woke up feeling even MORE PUMPED because I had plans to go hang with a friend and work on plans for a zine we're writing together.
And then the day after that I woke up feeling sick. My allergies flared and my sinuses promptly developed an infection. I was in bed for a week and a half, and it really tested my ability to 'keep it posi in the new year' or whatever. Ten days of not being able to really do anything but watch dvds gave me a lot of time to think on what I really want to be doing. After a few days, I wondered if I really have the energy and the will to maintain this blog.
[Image: a young fair-skinned woman curls up on her couch.] I spent pretty much the entire time that I was sick doing exactly this, and watching all of My So-Called Life. Yikes.
Documenting local and underground communities of musicians and artists is important to me, and it needs to be done. The unfortunate reality is that this endeavor, especially when done through blogging, is endless and mostly (though not entirely) thankless work. It's deceptively time-consuming, and it's typically unpaid. It's kind of undervalued, considering how much skill, discipline, and self-motivation it requires.
It's not about the money though. It's just that it takes so much energy and time that after a certain point, you're tired, your focus feels fuzzy because you're distracted by real life shit like grief and illness and mental health issues or whatever, and it feels like you're spending more time writing about 'the scene', and worrying about your writing, than actually participating in it or enjoying it. And at that point, you ask yourself, "Why? Really, why am I doing this?"
If you get to the point where you're actually asking that question though, the universe is bound to give you an answer, some weird deus ex machina-style sign from 'above'. Unlikely though it sounds, I got mine in New Jersey.
On Saturday the 14th I braved the low temperatures, my own post-illness low energy, and my anxiety about walking alone after nightfall in an unfamiliar town and took two trains to New Brunswick. I went to The Alamo to see Lost Weekend and Curmudgeon, two bands that have really helped me to maintain my interest in local diy punk. My gut instinct said that it would be worth it and I listened.
[Image: Flyer for the Lost Weekend/Curmudgeon show, featuring a bleeding and bandaged head flanked by two human bones.]
I'm glad that I did. Getting the hell out of New York and out of my comfort zone was good for me. Going to a diy basement venue, meeting new people, and seeing new bands was really exciting. Söft Döv, Lost Weekend, and Curmudgeon all played fantastic sets. I was having a really great time until Draize's set began and the moshing -- and by moshing, I mean dudes two and three times my size grabbing each other by the back of the neck and literally throwing each other across a very small, low-ceilinged (…it was a basement, after all) room, with zero regard for any of the other people in attendance -- got out of hand.
When some dude threw me into the wall I moved to the back of the room. When I got an elbow in the chest even while hiding out there, I left. I went upstairs feeling shaky. A weird little funnel cloud of resentment and unreasonable embarrassment started to swirl around the spot where that random elbow had connected with my sternum. I almost walked right out and headed to the train station.
But first I ran into Lost Weekend's bass player and lead vocalist, Jess, in the house's living room. When she asked me how I was doing, I blurted out that I'd been having a great time until I was nearly moshed to death. Much to my relief, Jess responded with a sympathetic eye roll. "That shit is so boring," she sighed. I sat down next to her on the couch, and a long conversation about the need for safe(r) spaces at shows, inclusivity, and activism ensued.
[Image: a young woman singing and playing bass as other young people look on.] Jess of Lost Weekend, as captured by photographer Rachel Atcheson.
Being able to talk about the total bro-tastrophe in the basement, and how it made me feel completely unsafe and utterly alone in that feeling, made me feel significantly better. Talking after that about local bands, future projects, feminist organizing, and strategies for combatting show violence helped assuage how powerless and panicked I'd felt.
It was a relatively casual conversation, but it was more than just a couple of girls chatting. Jess validated and defused my negative feelings, carework that I appreciate whether it was intentional or not, and after that we were able to move our discussion away from the dudebros who constantly dominate any and all conversations going on in 'punk' and talk about what we want to work on, that change that we would like to see and help make happen in our communities.
Which, of course, is more or less the point of this blog. At home and recovering the following day, it occurred to me that this is more or less what I do in this space: I try to say something honest and productive about negative or harmful things that are happening in my community, and draw attention to bands and organizations that are trying to do something about these damaging practices.
I was really lucky that there was someone at that show who I could talk to. Not everyone who feels unsafe and literally marginalized at a show has someone they can express those feelings to. Not everyone feels comfortable speaking up in a situation like that, especially if they feel like they don't have any allies.
I can try to be that ally in this space. I can't go to every show that happens and coach every nervous or lonely-seeming individual I come across, but I can try to do something similar-ish through this blog. I can try to talk about these issues and how to confront them, and create a space where conversations the one I had with Jess can start to happen. It's not an easy job and it never has been, but for the first time in what feels like ages, I'm excited to do it, and I'm even kind of looking forward to it.
It seems like every time I open my browser, there are yet more girl-oriented and feminist bands, blogs, websites, events, and even archival donations (you go, K. Ha!) to examine and celebrate. I'm unashamed to proclaim that I am perpetually in the same state Tom Hanks is in right before the last game of the World Series in A League of Their Own. ("....we're gonna win...we're gonna WIN!")
Last week I wrote about my gut feeling that something is happening with girls and punk, and I'm grateful to have this feeling validated by the recently linked Soul Ponies blog. Soul Ponies says that people across the internets are feeling a 'Riot Grrrl revival', and blogger Stacy isn't afraid to tell us exactly what we need to do to revive it: we need to get proactive, get involved, and make it happen. Go read it for yourself if you haven't already. Stacy makes a number of valid points about Riot Grrrl and what it means, and lists a number of excellent ways to contribute to any scene or movement (in case Riot Grrrl isn't your thing).
Every 'how' needs a 'why'; allow me to provide it. Why find a way to get directly involved with music in 2010? Well, at the risk of sounding like a religious fundamentalist doomsday pundit, decent music doesn't have a chance of survival if we don't get active. Music has become something that most people passively consume. I think that a lot of us have forgotten that in effect, we control the industry, and that we choose what we hear.
Getting involved -- whether you start a band or set up shows, or simply adjust your record-shopping habits to benefit smaller companies -- reminds us that we have the power in this situation. And putting the energy into making, producing, distributing, or even just listening to local, independent music gives us a voice. It affords us a measure of representation in art itself.
With power comes responsibility. To be blunt, getting involved with local artists and music isn't something you do for the money. You do it because you have something to offer, and you want to help out. In my experience, you do get compensated by sort of non-tradiational means; local music is dependent on our goodwill, and our willingness to barter skills and resources creatively. Supporting local music can test the limits of our generosity. But that creative bartering is what transforms scenes into communities, and it provides us with the opportunity to model such good behavior for those around us. When we make our local scenes and communities, we have the chance to make the world the kind of place we want it to be.
And at the same time, there's the whole thing of how going to shows, making friends with bands, making your own music, and other related activities is fun. (Remember fun?) Music is a powerful means of communication, yes, but it's meant to be entertainment, too, and it's meant to make you feel good. So get out there, get involved, and spread the positivity and empowerment in 2010!
ps It's really better if you've seen the whole movie...
Okay, so technically it's the second Wednesday of the new year. But as it's the first Wednesday post of the calendar year, it feels like a video to celebrate and ring in 2010 is in order.
I have high hopes for this year, and my unshakeable feeling of assurance that this will be a good year for girls in punk, hardcore, and other less accessible genres, and so the only youtube video of my go-to fierce, feminist fight song seems called for. So get your fist in the air, raise your voice, and enjoy Sleater-Kinney's criminally underknown "Male Model" on this hump day.
Have you ever lost something -- your keys, your phone, the remote, etc -- driven yourself crazy looking for it, and then found it as soon as you stopped looking? This apparently applies to blogs, too: awhile back I posted about the lack of feminist and lady music bloggers, and all but begged my comrades to come forth from the shadows. Sadly, few did so, and I felt resigned to my feeling of loneliness. And then shortly thereafter, I started to find exactly the sort of blogs I'd been hoping for -- how crazy is that!? Here are some of my favorites, so far:
Star Beat Music tracks, hypes and reviews quite possibly every single band that comes through New Jersey and New York City, and never ceases to amaze me with how quickly, accurately, and exhaustively it reports area music news. Run by Star, who is probably the hardest working blogger in showbusiness, I depend on this site for show info, and I maintain that every town and city should have a blog like this one.
Where Star Beat fulfills my news needs, Suck My Left One and Soul Ponies provide me with much needed regular doses of Riot Grrrl and queer history. At Suck My Left One you'll find videos, images, lyrics, songs, and links, all related to prominent Riot Grrrl bands, as well as other woman-powered rock of the period.
In contrast to these little daily relics from Riot Grrrl history, the nascent Soul Ponies has no fear of the long, reflective essay, and supplies smart, sassy commentary and context for every video and mp3 it posts. The blog also features book and show reviews, relevant tour and music news, and a much needed critical and aggressive approach to the documentation and sharing of our ladypunk history.
Etta Strange, though technically on hiatus during the construction of a new website, has a long and rich archive for new readers to dig into for now. I've been coming to this site to read about music, genres, websites, and record labels I've never even heard of. Self-described as having 'eclectic' tastes, the author/self-professed obsessive audiophile posts songs, videos, photos, playlists, and concise, smart observations and opinions about everyone from Charlotte Gainsbourg, to Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam, to Uganda's Death Row Choir.
Finally, Feminist Music Geek is probably dearest of all these to my heart (much as I hate to pick a single favorite). The name "Feminist Music Geek" alone accurately describes what I am, as well as author Alyx Vesey. Vesey turns her laser sharp gaze on everything from album covers to movie posters, and writes fearlessly about women and gender in all musical aspects of pop culture. Her work uses theory but remains accessible, gets critical without getting nasty, and always manages to both validate my feelings about an issue and make me think about things differently. Vesey's take on Patti Smith is a good example.
I am in love with how these blogs inform me, entertain me, and introduce me to new ideas and artists. I'm heartened to see these bloggers documenting their changing tastes and thoughts on music and popular culture, all while they collect and preserve information and make it accessible to other readers and bloggers. Whether they know it or not, these bloggers carve out an important space within which dialogues can happen, and within which we can all actively consider and engage with music, media, and culture. These blogs allow us to become part of the cultural process, and that's more than just exciting. It's downright inspiring.
By this point -- a mere two-ish weeks into the new year -- I usually find that the novelty of said new year has worn off. The excitement gives way to how overwhelming the opportunity of a new year can be, for me, anyways. I also tend to get discouraged by cold weather and the encroaching spring term.
But this year is different. Maybe it's because I've managed, between this forum and my schoolwork, to effectively make studying music my job, but I can't seem to stop being excited for what will happen this year in music. Though I've been trolling magazines and music websites for their picks for 'the most anticipated albums of 2010', and though I've been disappointed and entirely unsurprised to find few women on these lists, there is good news. New albums from Quasi, M.I.A., and the Shondes and then there's the new record from Christina Aguilera, which will allegedly feature songs produced by Le Tigre and Ladytron.
What really makes the lack of "mainstream" attention to female musicians tolerable though is everything that seems to be developing locally. Concrete information like tour dates and record release dates are scant but still, so much seems to be happening. Things seem quiet, but I have this feeling that the local bands whose work I attempt to chronicle here are regrouping and planning. You can just tell that new music, tour dates, and new projects are being set up. That friends are talking with other friends about new bands, art projects, and other types of collaborations. That stuff is coming.
For those of you who want names: my faves Zombie Dogs mentioned last year that they're working on a 7". Little Lungs has a 7" coming out for real on Salinas Records next month, and they're scheduled to tour through March. Their friends, (who are technically not local, but whatever) P.S. Eliot, have a 7" coming out too, and have some tour dates posted, and are in talks with my faves from way back, The Two Funerals. A joint PS/TTF tour, as well as a split release, might well be in the near future. In the meantime, TTF is working on a new release for The Cottage Records.
It's strange. it doesn't sound like much, but the handful of conjecture, speculation, and pseudo-gossip is more engrossing and uplifting than all the magazine and website lists of new releases put together. Or maybe it's not strange at all: crossing days off of your calendar as you get closer to a confirmed release or show date is great. But talking with your friends and bands about what they're up to, even when they're not entirely sure, supplies you with a kind of hopeful, blissful feeling that anything is possible, where a calendar really can't.
