On Blogging, Tumblr, and Being that Elusive "Real Writer"

I want to change my position on Tumblr being a poor platform for SJ blogging. I follow a lot of social justice bloggers who use Tumblr as their primary blog platform, or as an auxiliary to a more conventional blog, and I enjoy the casualness and sense of community it can provide. Is it the best platform for longer, more personal posts? Maybe not, but there's no real reason why it can't be used as traditional blogging platform.

Sweetney, a blogger whose site I've been reading for a few years now, wrote about her reluctance to embrace Tumblr for some of those reasons. As someone who's been blogging in some capacity for almost as long, I want to agree with her, but I can't help but draw parallels between long-time bloggers and the relatively newer trend of microblogging, and recent discussions of the "death of print."

And the simplicity and ease of that approach, the No Mix No Mess No Bother-ness of content aggregation over content production, is without question a large part of why so many people are doing it instead of writing these days. To click a button on articles and posts by other writers and simply point people to them – sometimes with a quick, pithy aside-like accompanying statement or description, but sometimes without even that – is an efficient way to create a presence online without actually creating anything.

I penned a diary-type blog for a few years. I was new to blogging and had few references aside from a handful of personal bloggers I knew. I aped that style, gained a few readers, and felt like a huge fraud. I wasn't creating anything. I found out that I was pretty good at aggregating content, linking to other bloggers, and yes, even adding some "pithy commentary" when necessary. I'm kind of like the patients in Awakenings: I only react when the ball is thrown right to me. There are a lot of people who use Tumblr that way, and it provides a service. A lot of early blogs, before there was even a name for it, were link-logs of sorts.

Another reason this kind of thinking makes me uncomfortable: it veers a little too closely to suggesting that one isn't a "real writer" (creating something) by providing pithy commentary alone. The two aren't mutually exclusive, and commentary can be more insightful than the original piece, and is often a springboard for discussion. I know that's not what's entirely implied here, but speaking as someone who has never been confident in her writing skills, I like having a place where I can "try out" ideas before writing something more substantial. By that logic, Tumblr has made me a better writer.

Miss Representation

Jennifer Siebel Newsom's documentary, Miss Representation is "an inside look" at the messages the media sends to and about women:

As one of the most persuasive and pervasive forces in our culture, media is educating yet another generation that a woman’s primary value lay in her youth, beauty and sexuality—not in her capacity as a leader, making it difficult for women to obtain leadership positions and for the average girl to feel confident herself. Stories from teenage girls and provocative interviews with politicians, journalists, academics, and activists like Condoleezza Rice, Lisa Ling, Nancy Pelosi, Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow, Rosario Dawson, Jackson Katz, Jean Kilbourne, and Gloria Steinem build momentum as Miss Representation accumulates startling facts and statistics that will leave audiences shaken and armed with a new perspective.

A list of screenings can be found here. (It should be showing on Oprah Winfrey's OWN network in the fall.) This looks incredibly promising, but as Dodai from Jezebel states, Miss Representation "may be preaching to the choir for those of us already frustrated with sexist advertising and misogynistic media."

Rewind: Shut Up and Sing

courtesy of last.fm

I'm not the biggest supporter of mainstream country. It's not the music or the artists, which I don't consider all that different from other genres of popular music, but country music has huge image problems. It's pretty hard to disassociate the sound with the stereotype: country music fans are evangelical jingoists with truck nuts and confederate flags hanging over their garage doors. Country music's image as the soundtrack of the extreme right makes it hard for me to now embrace a style of music I grew up listening to. And the times that trope plays out to be true, well, it's kind of hard to argue why country gets a bad rap.

In 2003, the Dixie Chicks were one of the top selling acts in mainstream country. When frontwoman Natalie Maines said on a British stage that the Dixie Chicks were "ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas," it caused a whirlwind of controversy in the mostly conservative country music world. The documentary, Shut Up and Sing, was released three years later, and tells the story of what happened then, and later as the Chicks tried to rebuild their career and move toward a more adult-contemporary sound.

I remember when this happened, and hadn't thought much about it in the intervening years. As someone who listens to a number of artists who thrive on controversy and being politically outspoken, I thought the whole thing was ludicrous. I didn't know about the threats, the banning, and the outright vitriol of the country music-listening public. That, sadly, doesn't surprise me, but I think it's important to look at the way women in the industry are treated when they make remarks deemed "controversial". It was hateful, mean, and downright sexist. They were called "twits,""dixie sluts," and "bimbos". I really recommend watching this, even if you aren't a country fan. As it stands, what happened to the Dixie Chicks is a pretty good example of the kind of misogyny that permeates popular music. God forbid you are woman with a thought in her head that wasn't put there by her handlers. I came away with a lot of respect for the Dixie Chicks, as artists and people.

Vice Presidential Candidate Geraldine Ferraro Dies at Age 75

Time Magazine cover via Shakesville 

As a girl growing up in the 80s, Geraldine Ferraro's position as Walter Mondale's running mate in the 1984 election was undeniably huge. I was just old enough to understand the historical significance of Ferraro being the first female VP candidate on a major ticket, but like a lot of people my age, that memory remains tainted by her unfortunate remarks during the 2008 election. Upon hearing the news of her death yesterday morning, I struggle to write something that celebrates her legacy without ignoring her faults. (And weirdly enough, just yesterday I wrote about the thorniness of paying tribute to someone who did a lot of good, while not ignoring the parts that aren't so good.) Here are a few links that respectfully pay tribute while not glossing over the failures:

BeckySharper from The Pursuit of Harpyness:

Ferraro’s candidacy made that otherwise forgettable election a historic one. Despite bad publicity later in her life—a scandal involving her husband’s business dealings, ill-advised remarks about Barack Obama’s candidacy—she has an undeniably important role in US history.

Pam Spaulding from Pam's House Blend:

She was a trailblazer in 1984 — and a lightning rod for controversy during the 2008 election. The lightning rod status refers to her comments during the 2008 campaign in support of Clinton. She said Obama had an advantage because of his race […] In my personal experience only, dealing with race has been more difficult than sexism, though everyone’s mileage may vary. The bottom line is that it’s still a man’s world, and down south a good old boys network that has to be navigated, so politics is still seen as a man’s game to play.

Joan Walsh from Salon

The San Francisco convention where she was nominated was my first and remains one of my favorite political memories. She deserves better than to be remembered mostly for her pained and divisive comments about Barack Obama during the 2008 Democratic primary, but in some way, they defined her, good and bad.

How to Celebrate Someone While Acknowledging The Flaws

This topic came up on Tumblr recently, and I've blogged about it *cough* a few times now: how can you celebrate the good parts of someone who is incredibly flawed? This is particularly problematic for a music blogger, as many entertainers -- good entertainers, geniuses you might say, have engaged in some pretty egregious shit throughout their careers Jay Smooth recently paid tribute to rapper Nate Dogg, who died unexpectedly last week. Nate Dogg was a talented hip-hop artist, who was, unfortunately, pretty freaking misogynistic. This video acknowledges all those things without taking away from his influence on the world of hip-hop.

Links & Bits for 3/25/11

Why We Love......Dolly Parton (I Fry Mine In Butter)

Man, what’s not to love about Dolly? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again until I’m blue in the face, I think that Dolly Parton is The Great American Songwriter. No offense to Willie, Bruce, Woody, Bob, Joni, Hank, Jon and Exene, but when I think of great artists with a capital A, I think of people who can communicate every facet of being a human being.

Jay Smooth gives Chris Brown a history lesson (video)

Why does everyone hate Patrick Wolf? (Sick Mouthy)

Maybe it’s that people are still scared of homosexuality, especially when it’s not manifested within strictly delineated and accepted paths. Homosexuality manifested as flamboyant camp is perhaps acceptable when it’s delivered with an undertone of impotence (and thus safety), but it petrifies when the voice is deep and the stride long.

Also, two posts that address the lack of women and people of color in Bravo's Top Chef finale from Post Bourgie and Shakesville. On the accusations of sexism,  Shakesville's Melissa McEwan sums it up:

The consistency with which men on the show who break the rules are lauded as rebels and the women who break the rules are scolded as not understanding the challenge is really getting old.

Colicchio says there's no sexism on the show, and most of the contestants agree, but there is absolutely a covert double-standard that routinely results in women getting eliminated. Men are rewarded for creativity; women are rewarded for compliance.

And on a show where creativity wins, not compliance, it's no fucking wonder there's only been one female winner.

Is There Such a Thing as an "Unforgivable Offense?"

courtesy of last.fm

Reading through the comments on this Tiger Beatdown post, I feel conflicted. (I won't comment on the article that was linked other than one of the things I hate most is when men explain me to me.) On one hand, I truly believe that most people, when confronted with their own problematic behavior, will want to learn and grow. On the other, when that behavior becomes a habit, and not limited to one or two isolated incidents, it's really hard for me to look past it, even if they've done consistently good work elsewhere.

I think this is why certain factions of the feminist blogosphere always gets dragged into these conversations. It's not just the behavior that's the problem, it's the denial that it even exists. It's the unwillingness to change that behavior; to not do the work.

What happens when a respected artist or writer, someone who's held in high regard by those same feminists, fails to own up to her mistakes? A good example of this, what I'm loosely calling an "unforgivable offense," is the controversy over Amanda Palmer's Evelyn/Evelyn project, and her refusal to acknowledge that she was contributing to the marginalization of people with disabilities. When the project was invariably criticized, she refused to listen, and dodged responsibility with the classic, "sorry you were offended." FWD explains it better:

Unfortunately, Evelyn Evelyn seems like a project that is far from actually being transgressive, even given the initial appearance of said transgression (because what’s more shocking and weird than conjoined twins, at least according to abled culture?). The project, as far as I can tell, makes no reference to the ways in which actual people with disabilities are treated in Western culture; this probably seems like a tall order for any musical project, but there is a chasm of difference between at least acknowledging that there are people like this (in this case, conjoined twins) who do exist and that they probably are affected by ableism, and outright appropriation of this uniqueness in the name of art. Certainly, Evelyn Evelyn is fictional, and while Palmer and Webley are not required to make any sort of political statement, the seeming lack of awareness that there are actual conjoined twins and that they do not only exist for abled artists’ dressing-up-and-performing purposes is rather troubling.

I don't bring up the Evelyn/Evelyn project to rehash old hurt. I do it because Palmer was given the perfect opportunity to acknowledge what she did wrong, and correct it without becoming defensive. I see this played out time and again within the progressive blogosphere, and the same questions come up: can we call out someone's failures without nullifying the rest of the work they've done? When does an offense become unforgivable?

Kate Nash Isn't a Pop Star, and She Doesn't Want You To Be Either

courtesy of last.fm

From the way Kate Nash's new program to get girls into songwriting was framed in this Jezebel post, it's easy to make that assumption, but I think there's some nuance missing. Maybe I just have a looser definition of the word "pop," but isn't Kate Nash, whether she writes her own songs or not, a pop star in her own right? And why is that such a dirty word these days?

I'm the first to admit, I'm, for better or worse, Jack Black in High Fidelity. I've written numerous accounts my trying reconcile my love of weird, obscure, and unheard music (good) with my secret obsession with mainstream pop culture (bad), but the older I get, and the more aware I've become of whose music is seen as art, and whose is seen as commerce, the more I am able to find value in "disposable" pop music. By all means, yes, encourage young women to write songs -- any opportunity for creative expression is a good thing -- but how about not vilifying the Katy Perrys and Ke$has to raise up the Kate Nashes. This isn't directed at the Jezebel  (who actually does a pretty good, if somewhat limited, job of promoting female artists), but critics at large who dismiss pop artists as part of "junk" culture.

This, from a grammar, is more about electronica, but can also be applied to any style of music seen as less "substantive" or "organic":

This idea that singing, say electronic pop, automatically means taking up a disempowered, manufactured, pandering role, even if the woman in question is creating everything herself. The slippage involves being more interested in what the muse seems to represent socially that the actual relationship between the female artist and the art she's making.

Of course, that's not to say anyone is above criticism, but instead of framing it as "pop music, bad" we could teach young women interested in being performers how to have more control over their image -- their brand -- or some sense of agency in an environment where they are continually devalued.

How Gang of Four Made Me Like Disco

I know that you're about to say: Disco? Huh? But bear with me.

Not having cool older siblings to hip me to those albums considered crucial for any young rock fan who just discovered there's music beyond what's playing on the radio or MTV, I turned to Rhino's compilation CDs. Actually, those things were my cool older siblings. And long before you could sample any song online, or download only the ones you loved, Rhino's comps served as a combo platter of some of the greatest unheard music.

In hindsight, it was pretty 101 stuff. Most of the big names in punk or alternative of the 70s and 80s were there: The Jam, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Buzzcocks; and some unexpected nuggets, like the Vibrators or the Damned -- something I could never image being played on my local rock radio station sandwiched between Warrant and The Allman Brothers. (Though REM and the Replacements did manage to finagle their way onto the airwaves, if not during most people's waking hours.)

I was well-versed enough in punk rock, in that I thought of it as a somewhat antiquated style of basic three-chord rock, and as a sartorial statement marked by safety pins in the face. Current punk, as defined by my late-80s/early 90s youth, was loud, raw, inherently masculine, and mostly played by the kind of skater boys I wasn't supposed to hang around. No dancing involved unless it required bone-crushing body slams. I liked that -- the anger, the unbridled energy of it all, but I liked to dance, too. I mean, actually move in time to the music, not just pitch myself into a crowd of sweaty bodies. (Hell, I still had a poster of Whitney Houston on my wall for crissakes!)



So I was quite surprised when I first heard Gang of Four's "To Hell With Poverty" smack in the middle of my latest cut-out bin find. (The cut-outs were lousy with Rhino comps.) It was definitely punk in all its nihilistic glory, but it had a beat and well, I could dance to it. It was also smart, little snotty, and weirdly elegant in a way. The synths were pure disco. It wasn't gritty mosh pit rock, but eons away from the brainless pap playing on the radio, which I secretly still secretly loved but rarely admitted, even to myself.

I know this plays into some pretty old tropes about women as music fans: they don't care about artistry, they only want to dance. (A recent book, which I won't name, exploited the hell out of this stereotype.) And I believed it, even while trying to wedge myself into a punk scene that was, and still is, largely inhospitable to women. Right, Gang of Four is hardly the Bee Gees, but they allowed me to embrace music that isn't sweaty and hard, and that danceable beats can be arty, too.

Personal Histories

(A version of this was posted to my Tumblr)

I really like Roberta Estes's article about the myth of having a Native American grandmother, and how many times there's some truth behind the myth. I'm part Acadian, and mine is one of those families with a strong oral history of Native American ancestry, albeit several generations back. I have a pretty good paper trail already, but there are a lot of good resources mentioned. But I can't honestly write this post without talking about "Native American Grandmother" trope, explained fully in Stuff White People Do:

These are the white searchers (sometimes called "pretendians") who hope to fill up a certain emptiness in their bleached-out, whitened identity, but want little part of actual, ongoing Native American struggles. Many of them will never go to a reservation to experience the results of white genocidal practices, even if they do find Native American blood in their DNA. They're rarely willing to fight for treaty rights, nor help with such contemporary problems as compulsory sterilization or substance abuse. Indeed, they're rarely willing to even acknowledge these problems, or do much of anything else that goes beyond vague, sentimental ideas of supposedly authentic Indian-ness.

This is hugely problematic for a lot of reasons. For one, it's any easy way to deny privilege (and ease your guilt a little), but I think, like Estes, that a lot of times there is some truth to the stories, especially if yours is a family that's been in the U.S. for many generations. (At the risk of sounding this a little US-centric. When I say "Native American ancestry," I mean including but not limited to the United States. I think this is grossly overlooked when people talk about the Native American ancestry.)  And it's while it's never cool to tell someone what part of their heritage they can or can't claim ,  I want to learn more, and at the same time can't help thinking, "What part of this can I embrace -- acknowledge even -- when I am seen in society as white?"

I also want to talk a little about DNA testing, which was mentioned toward the end of the original article. I can see autosomal testing as an option if you've hit a wall in your research and can afford the cost. I can't and, as I've said before, my Native American ancestry being several generations back, it might not show up in an autosomal DNA test in the first place. Plus, it hits a little too close to blood quatums. Testing Y Chromosomes and Mitochondrial DNA to see which haplogroup your ancestry may have belonged to is also risky and expensive, and each only represents one ancestral line. Rather than rounding up several cousins for cheek-swabbing, if you know your family tree pretty well, you can check something like Ybase or Family Tree DNA and see if someone sharing any of your ancestral lines has logged on to the database. I've been able to do this for a handful of my male lines. Most are in R1b, the most common European haplogroup, with a smaller selection in E. (I have some sephardic jewish ancestry as well, and haplogroup E is pretty common among sephardic jews.) Most of my male lines are European, which is typical of family histories of native American ancestry. It's possible, though incredibly difficult, to find your matrilineal line online, but women usually took the names of their husbands, which makes searching a names database impossible.

One Song, Many Voices: Hallelujah

Very few performers get "Hallelujah" right. What is, really, a nasty, bleak, and bitter song is all too often transformed into a turgid power ballad. And that's unfortunate, because to hear Leonard Cohen's original, you know it wasn't all about grandiose emotion.

Now is a good time, I suppose, to let you in on one of my secret pop culture transgressions: I'm a child of the 90s and I hate Jeff Buckley's take on the Cohen classic. I'm pretty sure this is the one that spawned a thousand terrible "Hallelujahs." So what are some successful versions? John Cale's, from Fragments of a Rainy Season stands heads above most and, at least in my eyes, is the definitive "Hallelujah" cover. That Cale and Cohen have similar "dark" voices is a huge part of that. He doesn't deviate much from the original, and gives it an upscale touch:



Kathryn Williams does a great version, too, keeping it sparse and simple. Lovely:



Yasmin Levy mixes Flamenco, Jazz and traditional Sephardic music to create a modern take:

Don't Make Me Over: Gender Essentialism in Makeover TV

In her excellent book on reality TV, Reality Bits Back, Jennifer Pozner touches on something that's been the bane of my TV watching for almost a decade now: makeover shows. I find them simultaneously addictive and maddening. I love transformation. I love that a few swipes of lipstick or change of shirt can alter one's perception self. I don't like the rampant consumerism, the product placement, the shaming and praying upon women's egos and bodies*, the "break 'em down to build 'em up" ethos, but I especially don't like the idea that to feel confident, let alone be stylish, a woman must dress "womanly." Define that however you want, but I'm pretty sure it's not boxy tops, biker boots, jeans that aren't cut to "enhance a woman's curves," and sensible shoes. In other words, you're getting a dress.

To be honest, I really enjoyed the inchoate, British incarnation of What Not To Wear. Compared to its American counterpart, they did allow for some semblance of personal style. And in the early years of the American version, it looked like it could have gone that way. I remember one of the first episodes a late-30s punk rocker got, more or less, a updated (and pricier) version of her look. Also there was variety in the makeover candidates: men, women, old, young. Now it seems to have solidified into a mash of 30-something moms who "let themselves go" or "put the needs of others first." But heaven forbid you don't don't own a dress.

Gendered proscriptions are acute during this stage: A mechanic who doesn’t feel comfortable in ruffles or frills is called “butch” and made to don “girlie” clothing and cosmetics. A professor on a casual campus who enjoys comfortable sandals because heels “hurt: is told she has no choice but “to start wearing actual footwear.” A lesbian biker is forced to trade in her motorcycle jacket for a dress. (Jennifer Pozner from Reality Bites Back)

This is what really soured me on What Not To Wear. A few seasons ago, I watched Stacy and Clinton put a firefighter who normally wore jeans and tees into a flippy skirt. She was clearly uncomfortable, and it was equally uncomfortably to watch. It isn't about being fashionable at this point: it's dressing to put other people at ease.

All that aside, I do like fashion. I like a sense of personal expression, and clothing is an easy way to represent who you are, or who you'd like to become. And I think there is redemptive power in transformation. Isaac Mizrahi and Tim Gunn (both have hosted makeover shows, by the way) have written some great books about personal style that doesn't edge too closely to gender essentialism. And Autostraddle has some fantastic fashion  guides for every kind of gender expression that I think are more helpful, and make more sense that anything I've seen in any magazine or "make me over" show.  There are options out there. Just not on your TV.

*What Not To Wear does do a good job of making women feel good about the bodies they have rather than trying to mold them into some unrealistic image.

Links & Bits for 3/18/11

In Bed with Beth Ditto (The Guardian)

"I feel like I've made a difference for certain people and that's what matters. Growing up with riot grrrl, I feel like I owe it to the me of tomorrow – without sounding too ridiculous – to do this. The people who listened to Gossip when they were 14, they're 20 now and it's no longer cool, but when they're 30 they can look back and think, 'I listened to the Gossip and it was really helpful', and that will be how Bikini Kill or Nirvana were for me."

Pitch imperfect (Dorothy Surrenders)

Auto-Tune is the Photoshop of music. Just as the perennial picture perfector is ruining our perceptions of beauty, reality and basic human anatomy, Auto-Tune is dismantling our expectations of music. It’s turning the human voice an unrecognizable mishmash of synthesized wails and moans. The voice isn’t a uniform instrument with perfect pitch. It doesn’t modulate mid note. In fact, it’s those very breaks and imperfections that Auto-Tune covers up that can make music so memorable.

Right By Her Roots is Right On (Tiny Cat Pants)

As for Hight’s book, she’s looking at eight artists–Lucinda Williams, Julie Miller, Victoria Williams, Michelle Shocked, Mary Gauthier, Ruthie Foster, Elizabeth Cook, and Abigail Washburn–and their catalogs. And through interviewing them and really carefully listening to their lyrical and musical approaches to their subject matter, trying to really grapple with and understand the aesthetic values at the center of their work.

Fifteen Minutes: The Price of Being an Internet Meme

I couldn't bring myself to watch the entire Rebecca Black video.

If you've been under a rock for the past week -- or away from youtube -- a teenage girl posted a video to youtube, a vanity project of sorts, a song called "Friday." The lyrics are as basic as one could imagine (lots of "partyin' and fun, fun, fun) and it's autotuned to bits. In that respect, it's not all that different from the simplistic pap pumped out by corporate music makers. Except it's not. It's oddly surreal in its awfulness, and it's gone viral.  I refuse to link to it here, but as you can guess, not all of the attention has been positive. The idea behind making a "vanity" record, which I'm assuming this is, reminds me of the song poems of the mid -20th century. Here's an example (and a sort explanation of the history behind the song-poem phenomenon):

The business of recording song poems was promoted through small display ads in popular magazines, comic books, tabloids, men's adventure journals and similar publications with a headline reading (essentially) Send in Your Poems - Songwriters Make Thousands of Dollars - Free Evaluation. The term lyrics was avoided because it was assumed potential customers would not understand what the term meant. Those who sent their poetry to one of the production companies usually received notice by mail that their work was worthy of recording by professional musicians, along with a proposal to do so in exchange for a fee. The early 20th century versions of this business involved setting the words to music and printing up sheet music from inexpensively engraved plates (wikipedia).

As for the "brains" behind "Friday" and the public's reaction to it, Jezebel's Dodai says:

It's unclear whether Ark Music Factory is, as one reader emailed us, "creepy guys preying on rich kids' improbable dreams," or an indie label trying to break into a niche market — or both. But the popularity of Rebecca Black's video says more about the American public than it does about Ark Music. From Britney to Miley to Toddlers And Tiaras, we love to snicker at girls attempting to entertain. We delight in belittling and sneering at these young women. Oh, the media — and pop culture in general — teaches these kids that putting on a show is the best way to get everyone to love you.

I've been that girl, and only by the grace of god did youtube not exist when I was thirteen. I have a shoebox full of tapes my cousin and I made with our "fake" band. They're horrible in a Shaggs sort-of way. The difference was we had only minor delusions of fame, but no one would hear those songs but us. It was done strictly for the joy of playing rock star for an afternoon, which is what I hope Rebecca had in mind, if a little less organically. I don't want to read the youtube comments, and I'm a big believer in "publishing at your own risk." But I don't think some kid's rock star fantasy is worthy of mockery, no matter how embarrassingly bad. That she doesn't seem to be embarrassed by it makes me feel a little worse.

Addendum: "Friday" just broke into the iTunes Top Ten. Color me not all that shocked, really.

Lilith Fair is Over... and I feel Fine

Sarah McLachlan, founder of the Lilith Fair, told The Globe the long-running festival spotlighting female artists is officially over.

According to McLachlan, the 2010 Lilith revival was poorly conceived. "Bringing the same thing back last year really didn’t make any sense, in retrospect, without due diligence being done on how women have changed," she said. "In 12 years, women have changed a lot. Their expectations have changed, the way they view the world has changed, and that was not taken into consideration, which I blame myself for.” (Rolling Stone)

I understand the need for Lilith Fair, and for a few years in the late-90s, it accomplished its goals of bringing female singer-songwriters, and female-fronted bands to the forefront, but it wasn't without its problems either. Most notably, it did a poor job representing all women or all women artists. In her book about 90s girl culture, Girl Power, author Marisa Meltzer says of Lilith Fair:

Lilith was too broad and too homogenous for women who considered themselves serious music fans, but the target audience was more mainstream that that, anyway. The real problem was that, rather than coming out of third wave feminist ideas, Lilith was a direct descendent of women's music, a genre that included singers like Holly Near or Cris Williamson, known for being earnest and folksy, and was more closely aligned to the ethos of second wave feminism more than current feminist ideas or musical stylings.

I agree with a lot of this, though I don't the emphasis on folk -- particularly mainstream singer-songwriters who already had a fair share of radio play -- nor the earnest, hippy ethos was the problem as much as it was symptomatic of the problem that Lilith fell back on some old stereotypes of "women-only" spaces. It was "feminism-lite" -- cleaned, prepped and accessible to the mainstream public.

Though it deny that it broke any ground would be dishonest. At the time, music festivals were the domain of teenage boys into punk rock or metal, two genres that has a history of being inhospitable to women. For that, rest in peace, Lilith.

Rewind: Kathleen Brennan

I'm an obsessive reader of best-of lists. I seek out, especially, the cumulative ones than span the now five decades that make up the rock and roll era. Tom Waits, heralded as one of the great songwriters of the past thirty years, is frequently seen on these lists, but rarely is his co-writer, his wife, Kathleen Brennan. Am I missing something? Isn't she credited as a writer on his most famous songs? Why is that she doesn't make those lists alongside her husband?

Not surprisingly, her mysterious nature is mentioned more often than her talent.In a 2002 article for GQ, writer Elizabeth Gilbert said of Brennan's elusive persona:

But who is Kathleen Brennan? Hard to know, exactly. She's the most mysterious figure in the whole Tom Waits mythology. Newspaper articles and press releases always describe her as the same way as "the wife and longtime collaborator of the gravelly-voiced singer." [...] She's everywhere, but invisible. She's private as a banker, rare as a unicorn, never talks to reporters. But she is the very center of Tom Waits -- his muse, his partner and the mother of his children.

It makes for a great story: the rarely-seen muse/partner, but the partner side is often overlooked or downplayed. The "woman as muse" trope is as old as there is, but I think it's a comfortable position for fans and critics to take. Also, Tom Waits music is inherently, even stereotypically, masculine, and that the actually voice behind some of those tales of pirates and sailors and one-eyed dwarves might be that of his wife unnerves fans.



Whatever the reason, Kathleen Brennan needs to be recognized for the songwriter she is, alone and alongside her husband.

The Inimitable Klaus Nomi

courtesy of last.fm

I first Klaus Nomi on the soundtrack to Urgh! A Music War, which I bought at some hole-in-the-wall used record store for a few bucks. Being clueless to what was in my possession, I wasn't prepared for what came through the speakers. Klaus's sound is otherworldly, to say the least, a true contralto mixed with new wave synthesizers. His look was equally bizarre with stylized costumes, heavy makeup and a receding hairline. (Minus the balding pate, his look has been a huge influence on Lady Gaga.)

In his bio of David Bowie (with whom Klaus performed), Marc Spitz noted he was "shy and gentle offstage" but once on stage he was "completely without peer."

Nomi was not classically trained, but he had an uncanny multi-octave range that managed, when required anyway, to skirt camp for genuine beauty.

Klaus Nomi died in 1983 from AIDS. He was only 39-years-old.

Artists Support Wisconsin Workers

Long-time union supporter Steve Earle is releasing a two-track digital single whose profits will go to America Votes Labor Unity Fund through SaveWorkers.org (American Songwriter), and Mountain Goats frontman, John Darnielle posted a video of himself covering Joe Hill's "There Is Power in a Union." He says, "Everybody knows I don’t generally do the acoustic guitar guy rocking political jams deal but as a former member of SEIU 660 & the California Association of Psychiatric Technicians & a kid who benefitted from great teachers I wanted to spend tonight saying WE ARE ON YOUR SIDE.” (KEXP)

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes (Part Two)

(A version of this was posted to my Tumblr )

I’ve officially expanded my blog writing to things not music-related.

(If it isn't obvious enough by now, I unofficially did this months ago, but updating the description in my profile made it official-official.)

I’m loathe to admit it, but I really don’t want to be a 38-year-old music blogger. Uh-huh, I’m subscribing to some pretty ageist standards set by the largely white, male, twenty-something indie-rock music blogosphere — but I really don’t want to be a 38-year-old music blogger. At least, I don’t want it to be my primary gig.

I still love writing about music, but it’s hard to fill up a week’s worth of posts about it. I’ve been doing it in some capacity for the past five years, and I actually do have a life outside listening to music. But first the backstory. I resurrected Five Dollar Radio after getting axed from my paying blogging gig. I'm not going to pretend that it wasn't, at least in part, out of spite, but I really, really wanted to be a better blogger. I turned in a lot of half-assed articles. I cringe when I think what I passed off as content, but to be honest, I didn't feel as though I belonged there. I did the rounds of being a personal, diary-type blogger who occasionally wrote politically-charged posts, to an unknown music blogger, to a paid pop culture pundit. Even if I'm not being paid anymore, I'd like to find a way to combine the three without feeling scattered. I don't mind being niche-less.

However, politics -- personal and capital "P" politics -- largely inform how I think about the world and my love of popular culture. Those things are not hard to combine. I'll still focus on music, but being nearly forty, I have no place writing about Kesha or Katy Perry. Or whatever faceless indie band is the current critical darling. It feels weird and forced and like I'm borrowing a teenager's sense of cool.

Then there's also this: I tend to approach everything as a fan -- which I think is still a good thing. If girls' fandom is seen as silly and superfluous, women's fandom is... nonexistent. There simply aren't enough women writing about fan culture. But the last thing I want to be is this kind of fan:

People who aren’t music critics are allowed to take the usual path of how music was so much better when they were teenagers and has clearly declined ever since. (a grammar)

Okay, I do have a couple problems with this: for one, it's not too hard to make the stretch from "people who aren't music critics are allowed to take the usual path of how music was so much better when they were teenagers, " to "people who aren't professional critics maybe shouldn't be writing about music in the first place." I know that's not being implied here, but I've always gotten the impression that professional music critics often think bloggers are indulgent and lazy. (I mean, what are personal websites if not vanity projects?) Fan narratives are important, and it's a little reductive to think that many fans can't look at music critically, but man, that's a hard stereotype to overcome: the aging rock fan who refuses to listen to anything new because it's all been done before and nothing will ever be as good as the Stones. (Or the Ramones. Or Dylan. Or the Beatles.) I refuse to be that, but this ain't my scene either. When I find it, I'll tell you.

Links & Bits for 3/11/11

Female Artists Contemplate What it Would Be Like to Be a Man (Persephone)

This week, I thought it would be interesting to look at songs where women ponder what it would be like to flip roles and have the entitlements of a man.

Music Thursday: Friends of Wisconsin Unions Edition (What Tami Said)

John Darnielle on International Women's Day (Autostraddle)

Color Me White (Ish): Eminem and Negotiations of Whiteness in Hip Hop (Red Clay Scholar)

I am not interested in debating Mathers’ lyrical capability or talent. I’m more so interested in his (un)conscious role in negotiating whiteness and, more specifically, white masculinity in Hip Hop. Arguably the most commodified and consumed expression of the 21st century African American experience, Hip Hop is a space for hyper-performance of blackness. This makes Mather’s presence all the more visible and his active participation in rap music intriguing.

Turned Out Okay

Kino Praxis' Filckr

I've been wanting to address this for some time. Every once and a while in the mainstream progressive blogosphere, someone will write about early manifestations of traditional gender role subversion (boys playing with dolls and wanting princess gear, girls throwing footballs, etc.). Generally, I like these topics, and but there's always, always someone chiming in with:

I am woman who was a total tomboy, hated dolls and frilly dresses -- or my brother (or husband or son) played with dolls, wanted a princess costume and... wait for it... we TURNED OUT OKAY.

In this case, okay meaning: we grew up to abide by those traditional gender roles set by society, the same ones we eschewed as kids.

Can we stop this? Or I just wish someone would add "I was girl who wore boy's clothes, hated dolls, tossed footballs and I grew up to be a woman who wears guys' clothes,  likes football and doesn't a fig about makeup and I TURNED OUT OKAY TOO." Or "I was a boy who played with dolls and makeup and I still like that stuff and I TURNED OUT OKAY TOO."

Annie Lennox and the Observer Ask "What Does Feminism Mean Today?"

(Via the Guardian)

Annie Lennox, along with fellow performers, VV Brown and Beverley Knight, director of UK clothing brand Whistles, Jane Shepherdson, journalist Katharine Whitehorn, and author Monica Ali were part of a recent discussion (chaired by Lennox) on what equality means to them and what the future holds for feminism. I love that musicians, usually so reticent to call themselves feminists, are talking about equality in and outside the music industry, The best quote of the night (as seem on bibliofeminista's tumblr) goes to singer Beverley Knight:

But when you speak up about it you're the one who is labelled as combative, aggressive, because feminism is seen as some kind of putting on of a man's angry cloak. You're either laughed at or you're some woman with big bovver boots and a shaved head trying to be like a guy. That's the response you get. Feminism is neither of those two things. It's about women caring about other women, giving a voice to those who have no other voice.

This is incredibly important, and one of the primary reasons women are less likely to call themselves feminists, but there's also a number of women turning away from mainstream feminism because it's done a poor job historically of addressing their needs. There's also a real need within feminism to disagree with each other, and call out each other's and the movement's failures without being labeled as combative and aggressive.

International Women's Day '11

 

Today is International Women's Day, the 100th anniversary, in fact:

International Women's Day (IWD) was honoured the first time in Austria, Denmark, Germany and Switzerland on 19 March. More than one million women and men attended IWD rallies campaigning for women's rights to work, vote, be trained, to hold public office and end discrimination. However less than a week later on 25 March, the tragic 'Triangle Fire' in New York City took the lives of more than 140 working women, most of them Italian and Jewish immigrants.

The theme  for this year is equal access to education, and training in science in technology, two areas women are still, to no one's shock, woefully underrepresented. I thought about this as I read the above quote. As a working-class, U.S. woman, I've faced more barriers than gender. College wasn't a given. A number of people in my extended family didn't make it through high school. And yet, I've still been granted a few more privileges based on the color of my skin, the sacrifices my family has made, and the work of feminists and women's rights activists that came before me.

I've thought long and hard about how to write about the lack of women in science and technology when college at one point seemed out of reach for me. And to be honest, I hate turning this into an extended personal anecdote, but sometimes the only way for me to approach things is personally. This isn't my post to write, but it is important to note that getting women into higher-paying tech jobs means getting more women of all backgrounds into college, breaking down gender walls, but also those of class and race.

One more thing: the is international women's day. The mainstream feminist blogosphere can be a little US-centric. Feministe (one of those who does a pretty good job at not being so US-centric) provided a list of links to articles from women around the world and what IWD means to them.

Indie Rock, Irony, and Writing About Rape

courtesy of last.fm

L.V. Anderson wrote a great article about the Decemberist's use of rape imagery, particularly in the song, "A Cautionary Tale." for The Awl this week. It's well worth the read, and something that gets glossed over in the world of indie rock, especially with artists like the Decemberists who are universally adored by critics.

Full disclosure: I'm not a huge Decemberists fan. To my aging rock fan ears, they're part of a cabal of youngish, ostensibly indie bands that I'm probably a little too old to be listening to in the first place. Their music is erudite, literate, and old-timey (sartorially and thematically as well as sonically). Colin Meloy, their frontman, sings in a nasaly, adenoidal whine. Their fans are largely white, liberal, middle-class, and degreed (or on their way to being degreed). The lyrics to "A Cautionary Tale" describes, pretty vividly, a rape:

With dirty hands and trousers torn they grapple 'til she's safe within their keeping.
A gag is placed between her lips to keep her sorry tongue from any speaking, or screaming,
And they row her out to packets where the sailors' sorry racket calls for maidenhead.
And she's scarce above the gunwales when her clothes fall to a bundle and she's laid in bed on the upper deck.

Anderson makes this point, which tends to get overlooked in the world of indie-rock irony:

Suppose "A Cautionary Song" were set in a modern-day housing project or a trailer park instead of a 19th-century port city; suppose Meloy asked the crowd to yell "PUSSY!" instead of "MAIDENHEAD!" Do you think The Decemberists would be able to get a crowd of pretentious white indie kids in Portland to cheer and clap for that song?

Meloy declined to be interviewed for the Awl, but said in a 2003 interview for Spendid, "I think when you put them in the context of something in the 19th century, you're still addressing it, but it takes on a different feel. There's a whole different world that it's creating."

Right. But that doesn't take into consideration that he's a man with tons of privilege and respect from his peers co-opting a woman's experience. There's still an overwhelming lack of awareness. Interestingly enough, one of the commenters stated that, "I can only say that writing from a woman's point of view (as a dude) may be one of the hardest exercises I've ever done. You actually have to know quite a few women well, whether they be family or friends, know a few things about what they've gone through. That's a tall order for anyone, because it requires you actually live — which is not something a lot of songwriters have done when they're putting out their first records in their late teens and early 20s."

I can agree with this, but not for those reasons. It's less about knowing "what women have gone through," than understanding your own privilege as a man in society. I can think of few successful examples of songs written by men, but from the point-of-view of a woman. (Off the top of my head? Rufus Wainwright's "The Art Teacher," Eeef Barzelay's "Ballad of Bitter Honey," and the Replacements' "Sadly Beautiful" are the least problematic, and the most believable.)

Then there's that little problem of irony, which has become a synonymous in indie rock for "I can do or say something pretty offensive because I'm not really like that -- get it?" I fail to see the irony of a man singing about rape and not offering any insight into what the central character might be feeling.  And there's nothing ironic about a male songwriter using a woman's experience of rape in his music, and setting it in the past as to force some more distance between him and his subject, or his audience and his subject. Sady Dolye weighed in:

It’s just that if the concept of irony gets thrown in there, then it becomes (for him) about cleverness. And not about the guy endorsing rape as a punishment, at top volume, on stage. But, seriously? We’re aiding and abetting that guy now? We’re not opposing him? Because, “ironic?” I know you’re better than that. YOU know you’re better than that. You just forgot, because you found a chance to seem clever and detached. When you remember the various things that are actually way more important than seeming clever, you will go back to being your normal, awesome self again, Friend. I look forward to it.

Despite all this, I'm not someone who thinks certain things are off-limits entirely. I do think that no one is immune to criticism, though, and indie rock is as much an "old boys" network as anything. I'm glad this article was published, and I'm happy to see the discussion surrounding it.

The Right to Write

Borrowing from the Julie Cameron book of the same name, a question for writers out there: when did you give yourself permission to write? I don't mean physically allowing yourself to sit down and wait for the words to start flowing from your fingertips, I mean saying "I deserve to be heard?"

I came across this quote from Gloria Anzaldúa a few months back, and it really resonated with me:

Who gave us permission to perform the act of writing? Why does writing seem so unnatural for me? I'll do anything to postpone it -- empty the trash, answer the telephone. The voice recurs in me who am, a poor chicanita from the sticks, to think that I could write? [...] How hard is it for us to think we can chose to become writers, much less feel and believe we can?

I can't pretend to know what it's like to be oppressed by race, but questioning whether I even should be writing at all? Been there. I wasn't the smart kid. I didn't rush home to scribble in a diary; I didn't love writing except when I was writing fanfic. Most days I, too, would rather do anything but write. I'm not someone who can bang out 5000-word posts in one sitting. I have to crabwalk my way through a reasonable 300, and even then I'll make some egregious error of fact or grammar that makes me question why I'm doing this in the first place.  And yet, I'm still compelled to write, even though by most standards, I shouldn't.  So I ask, when did you feel permission to write?

Blessed: Some Thoughts

It's a little unfair to write a "review" (and yes, air quotes are required -- what I'm about to write is more a series of disjointed thoughts than a proper review) of a record I've listened to only a handful of times, but I had high hopes for Blessed. Unfortunately, some of the problems that have plagued Lucinda Williams's last few records continue.

Produced by Don was of Nick of Time fame, its overall sound is pretty subdued. That's not to say it's a bad record, or that music has to be either lyrically sad and downbeat or happy and melodic (there are plenty of songwriters who've made careers with melodic angst), but there's a fuzziness I can't get past: like straining to hear or see something just out of range. Not in a physical way, but (to mix metaphors) like a fog of emotions I can't quite sort out. In that respect, It reminds me a lot of another Don Was production, Paul Westerberg's Suicaine Gratifaction.

Another thing that's been bothering me is her voice. Now, I love, love, love Lucinda's throaty rasp, but on Blessed, she sounds pretty raw. I know a singer's voice doesn't sound the same in her fifties as it did in her thirties, and some wear and tear is inevitable, but I really miss that old voice.

Aunt B. made note of some of the reviews commenting on Lucinda's recent marriage influencing Blessed's mellow sound:

Or maybe the “I got married and it mellowed me” is a good narrative because people are willing to sympathize with it. But I’m going to keep an eye out for it from here on out–the mention of a female artist’s relationships as being central to her art.

The discussion on her blog is worth a read. I haven't read that many reviews other than to notice that they were overwhelmingly positive, but I've read similar things about other female artists. Though I wonder if Lucinda Williams's image as a "lone wolf" of sorts has more to do with it.

Links & Bits for 3/4/11

Vapor Girls: Puro Instinct, Image Control, and Music Writing (Visitation Rites)

I have to say that my initial reaction to this image was not entirely positive. I mean, I’m far from a prude, but my gut reaction was that this was not a smart move. My logic was that with the press already so focused on their gender and attractiveness, why not go for something a little bit less sexy? As third (or even ninth) wave as I usually am, I wasn’t feeling the lying down in lingerie motif. I guess it struck me as being a bit passive.

Melissa McEwen from Shakesville's thoughts on this season's American Idol

It really seems like the top 12 "boys" were explicitly encouraged to be as individual and quirky as possible, while the top 12 "girls" were encouraged to conform both in style and song choice to some weird amalgam of a high school talent show contestant and a pageant entrant. Which is not to say that none of the girls were quirky or talented or whatever, but only that the spectrum of acceptable quirkiness for the girls seems a lot narrower than it is for the boys.

For Girls Who Love Themselves Enough to Talk Back to Lil Wayne (Colorlines)

Rapper Lil Wayne has certainly had his fair share of critics, but probably none quite like this. Two girls, ages 9 and 10-year-old, recently took to YouTube to rap an official letter to Weezy about his disparaging lyrics about women. They're going by the name Watoto From the Nile, and in a professionally produced video and song, both rap over the beat to Wayne's song "I'm Single." And you know what? It's good. Really good.

Accountability vs Shaming

I spend a lot of time criticizing the feminist blogosphere. Sometimes I spend more time criticizing the feminist blogosphere than actually participating it it (I know this is hypocritical, and becoming more active is something I'm working on), but I'm a big believer in accountability. It's especially important to hold those whose influence large and wide-reaching accountable for what they write online. This is why I'm more than okay with sites like STFU Jezzies and Fuck No Jezebel. Both do a good job criticizing the overall tenor of the site, which includes the commenters as well as the editors. Some may think sites that exist solely for the purpose of pointing out the failures of others veer a little too closely to mean girl territory, but it's not personal, and it's usually limited to the things said on Jezebel. This is healthy. Criticizing something from the inside out is a great way to actually make change happen. What I cannot advocate is shaming.

Shaming is personal. Shaming is damaging someone's reputation simply because "she's annoying or demands too much attention." Shaming is not allowing someone to grow after she's made a mistake and owned up to it. Shaming is 21st century equivalent of staring an "I hate (person) club" like something you'd read in a Judy Blume novel. Unfortunately, I see a lot of it in online circles, too. The site linked in the third paragraph here makes me extremely uncomfortable. Don't even get me started on calling someone a "bad feminist." What the hell is that supposed to mean anyway?

If I sound like I speak from experience, it's because I do. For years I had an "online nemesis," and while it was a series of mild attacks only, it was personal, it had nothing to do with anything I'd said or done, but that person's perception of my online persona. I thought long and hard about what could have said or done that may this person took offense to: I raked through every one of my posts. I would have been fine with direct confrontation, but there was none. I know I make plenty of mistakes -- and I'm willing to own up to them. But there is a line between accountability and bullying, and all too often it gets a little blurry.

Goodbye Super Fun Happy Hour

(Via Annie Zaleski)

KDHX's Super Fun Happy Hour aired its last show Monday night. Though a little heavy on the dude-rock, it's been a huge part of my punk rock education. Since its debut the mid-90s, Super Fun Happy Hour has been airing a mix of punk, garage and pop from the 70s through the present, and has been a big part of KDHX's late night line-up. I have lots of memories of staying up late, popping a cassette into tape deck and recording entire shows. (Old-school downloading for you young folks.) Guys, you'll be missed.

Rewind: Celebrity Skin - Hole

I'll never forgive Courtney Love for making me buy $25 nail polish. Somewhere between her fall from grace as punk rock's reigning noise queen and the new millennium, Courtney showed up in the pages of Vogue or Elle (I don't remember which) sporting a glamorous new look, but her nails were painted a deep, dirty, metallic blue. Bad girl nails. A few years later every girl in every mall in America would be wearing dark nail polish, but this seemed a studied reminder of her past (or some clever marketing on the part of the magazine -- most likely the latter). A week later I was at a Chanel counter dropping twenty-five bucks on their "Cosmic Blue" shade. For a perpetually broke twenty-something, it felt really decadent -- and badass, in a chic sort of way. (I mean, it's Chanel.)

I wasn't really intending for this to sound like an add for overpriced cosmetics, but the whole "paying too much money to look punk" aesthetic was a big part of the waning years of the 90s after grunge and punk had been co-opted by corporate America, and Nirvana morphed into Bush. Okay, the late 90s were kind of terrible as far as pop culture was concerned, but some of those years were the best of my life. A couple years after that magazine spread, post-movie career Courtney Love released Celebrity Skin with her band Hole. It was a huge departure from the rougher Live Through This, and even further away from Pretty on the Inside. I feel a little like an infidel saying this, but it's still my favorite Hole album.

Yes, the production is clean, clean, clean and all the punk dissonance has been replaced by a radio-friendly, melodic rock sound, but is that really such a bad thing? Why has it become the bane of my generation for its icons to make a commercial rock album? Done well, commercial rock is, well, pretty damn awesome, and Courtney's always had a great rock voice.

One other thing I've noticed, going back more than ten years later: Courtney was about my age when all these songs were written. Maybe it's that late-thirties ennui that makes it so relatable now (and I can't even pretend to have led half the life she has).