December 5–12, 1996

gyrate

She Ain't Heavy

The women rockers of Not Bad For A Girl — hard and fast and unremarkable.

By Margit Detweiler

"What's heavy?"

Dr. Lisa Apramian, Ph.D., the fuzzy-headed psychotherapist/ director/ interviewer of the lo-lo-fi documentary Not Bad For A Girl, is asking former Hole bassist Jill Emery to further define the music she plays.

"It's just like a rumbling, a chunk. I feel like Spinal Tap explaining it," says Emery, head down, plucking her bass guitar. "It's really just a feeling to me and I like it. It's heavy and it's kind of scary, but it's just a good thing and I mean I like the idea of the chord. It's heavy for a bass. I don't know what got me into that. I don't even know where I got into this. But I know people do this. This is dissonant in a strange way, and then, you know, it's heaviness."

It's rambling, Spinal Tap-ish quotes like this, plus bad direction, poor sound quality and a meandering structure that make the first half of Not Bad For a Girlpretty bad. Not to mention the fact that the bands Apramian investigates all fall into the category of bland, self-indulgent "cock rock."

Yes, it's wonderful that women from Joan Jett (who appears in the film) on down to L7, the Lunachicks and Babes in Toyland have broken down the barriers so that male genitalia are no longer a requirement for bands who want to make a big loud fuss.Really, it's great.

But an entire movie with poorly filmed concert footage (kindly called "gritty" by some critics) of only this one type of music is not bad for a girl — it's embarrassing. Even Hole, arguably one of the more talented hard bands regardless of gender, isn't done justice.

The interviews don't help much. When you hear quote after quote from women who say eloquent things like, "I love getting up on stage and making a fool of myself" (Jula Bell of Bobsled), "I like acting like a re-tard" (Squid of the Lunachicks) or "It's very sexy to let loose and sweat all over the place" (Joan Jett) —well, you could probably pick up sharper insights by hanging out with a cat-calling construction crew.

The one-sidedness of this film is disturbing. Where are the inventive, hard-rocking angry women in rock like The Breeders, Patti Smith, The Fastbacks, Bikini Kill, Chrissie Hynde, Kendra Smith, The Gits, Liz Phair, P.J. Harvey? Sure, L7 can "play as hard as any guy," but is living up to the mediocre standard of Anthrax the objective?

The film then takes us to a scene at the first Riot Grrrl convention where girl band after girl band takes the mike and yelps painfully. As this segment implies, Riot Grrrl music is about much more than sound — it's about racism, classism, sexism and self-defense classes. That's fine, but most of the performers in the Riot Grrrl genre haven't figured out how to make music that's as stimulating as their message.

Start out with a good song first — then I'll listen to what you have to say.

The saving grace of this film is the second half (if you can last that long), where the film attacks gender issues head-on. The rockers in this segment have some inspiring things to say to would-be women rockers.

"Don't destroy yourself to get the football captain. Be the football captain. It's just that simple," says Courtney Love, who helped finance this film with her late husband.

Squid of the Lunachicks, who is at turns refreshingly frank and pathetically vulgar, has a great deal to say about gender issues onstage and off.

"I just want to take my shirt off onstage like a man," says Squid. "I don't really like having a big chest. It's kind of a drag 'cause I can go swim a mile a day and get every bit of my body lean and hard but I still have these sensitive things. The only time I really enjoy having tits is when I'm in bed. I don't feel safe when I'm walking around as a woman all the time 'cause I feel open to abuse. So I'm gonna be my androgynous self out there, but give me a chance to break it down and be emotional and fragile. That's freedom."

Still, a much better exploration of women in rock is Andrea Juno's book (formerly of ReSearch books) Angry Women in Rock, in which the interviews (with Joan Jett, Tribe 8, Seven Year Bitch and others) are well-edited and enlightening. By contrast, Not Bad For A Girl feels more like some awestruck housewife's graduate thesis than a cogent, well-rounded insight into women in rock. If it's really going to be, as the subtitle suggests, "an analytic approach to the functions of music and gender deconstruction," it should follow a wider variety of women in rock: perhaps the schizophrenic popsters (Throwing Muses), the mystic ones (Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star), the gender-ly outrageous (Kembra Pfahler of Voluptuous Horror of Karen Black), the ultra-feminine (Miss Lily Banquette of Combustible Edison), the extremely successful (Alanis Morrisette), the funky quartet (Luscious Jackson), the poetess guru (Patti Smith), the punk guru (Exene Cervenka), along with the hard rock types.

Having said all that (you can tell I get a bit riled up about this subject), I still want to call your attention to the Dec. 11 screening at International House, mostly because there'll be an informal discussion afterwards with Philly rockers Marina D'Angelo, member of the band Ken and a DJ at WKDU;Elizabeth Fiend of More Fiends; Jill MacDowell, formerly of No. 2 Nippy; and music by the country-rock band The Weave.

Not Bad for a Girlwill be screened Wed., Dec.11, 7:30 p.m.; Thu., Dec. 12, 7:30 & 9:15 p.m.; and Fri., Dec. 13, 1 & 9:30 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St., 387-5125.

Heavy Concerts

Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon is one of the best examples there is of a talented, hard-rocking woman. But alas, it's her other half who's coming to the Five Spot.

S'alright, Thurston Moore does mankind proud. Reportedly Moore will be doing a loungey, free-jazz thing at the Five Spot this Friday with Jason Meagher. (He was hanging out on the Canary Islands at the Womad fest at press time and couldn't give us any details.)

The duo opens for legendary '60s experimental classical guitarist John Fahey. Hibernating in Oregon for the last five years, Fahey is back on the scene with a new album, City of Refuge (Tim/ Kerr records), due out early next year. According to an article in Seattle's The Rocket, Fahey is turning his picking toward sounds more avant and industrial. Having inspired the likes of indulgent Windham Hill-schooled guitarists Leo Kottke and Peter Lang, he told The Rocket, "I consider 'em all kind of degenerate cuties. Especially Kottke. It's all new age shit. Boring." Expect a free-for-all.

Fri., Dec. 6, 7 p.m., The Five Spot, 5 Bank St., 351-9923.

Don't miss one of the best new bands of 1996, Imperial Teen, half of which happens to be made up of two hard-rocking women. Go figure. Admittedly derivative of bands like The Breeders, IT write seemingly simple, gleeful punk songs about homoeroticism, hustling and candy. Led by Faith No More's Roddy Bottum, the band's debut, Seasick (Slash/ London), is a giddy, fuzzy, compelling collection of songs.

Thu., Dec. 5, with Bad Cat Friday and The Apollo Kings, Upstairs at Nick's, 16 S. 2nd St., 928-0665.

A week later, next Thursday, dig out your Hawaiian shirt and Sex Wax for a night of "Instro-Mental Surf Madness" from MuSick recordings. The Lansdowne, PA, label has compiled a bevy of exquisite tiki-lit instrumentals from Ben Vaughn, Laika and the Cosmonauts, Man or Astroman? and Los Straightjackets for the album Instrumental Fire. Surf band The Fathoms, spy outfit The Omega Men and space travellers The Space Cossacks play the record release party. More on this next week!

Thu., Dec.12, Middle East, 126 Chestnut St., 922-1003.