Bjork Ain't the Only One: Making music while female
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
If you are a woman who has participated in making music — whether being in a band, recording, touring, producing, sound engineering, promoting shows or running a label — you know this — down in your bones.
Bjork, Icelandic ingénue and searingly brilliant musician and producer, recently commented on the barriers she has faced over the years making music as a woman. She noted that she often finds herself not receiving credit for her production work, and has had male collaborators have to explain over and over to the press the role she played in albums. Men she worked with were getting props for work that was actually hers.
Let me point out something here: This is Bjork. A fairly universally acknowledged musical genius and mastermind.
But when I read it, I wasn’t shocked. Not in the least. Because even when you have Bjork’s status and reputation, you aren’t immune to the insidious, pervasive sexism and misogyny that women making music face. If you are a woman who has participated in making music — whether being in a band, recording, touring, producing, sound engineering, promoting shows or running a label — you know this — down in your bones.
I started playing music at 17, inspired by grunge, riot grrrl and the Washington, DC punk scene. By the time I was 21, I was running an independent record label Exotic Fever Records with my first bandmate Bonnie Schlegel. I was putting on shows all the time, and had already released a record with that first band Bald Rapunzel. I had mentors, too — including Jenny Toomey and Kristin Thomson of Simple Machines Records/Tsunami and Kim Coletta of DeSoto Records/Jawbox. These incredible women were down to earth and friendly. They were in my community doing amazing things, and so for me, the idea that women could be ambitious and successful in all parts of the creation of music appeared to be a given.
But from the beginning, there were signs that it wouldn’t be an easy road.
It was the salesman at the music store who asked me if I was sure my boyfriend would be okay with the kick pedal I was buying. It was the guy in a little-known band writing me for help with a show for his band, telling me he had heard I put on some of the best DIY shows in the city — only to then follow up with detailed instructions on how one goes about putting on a show.
It was the sound guy who, when I went to get a drink, moved my left-handed drum kit to a right-handed position, saying “Oh sweetheart, you set them up backwards.” No sweetheart, I am actually left-handed. The craziest part of that story was that it happened twice. With two different sound guys. It got to where I was scared to leave my drums to go get a drink.
I suppose you could also consider the time a young man told me my label couldn’t possibly have put out the band 1905 he loved, because they were “a really big band on a really big label.” It occurred when my trio Del Cielo, made up of three women, brought a man as our roadie. At many stops on that tour, promoters tried to pay him or negotiate with him, because of course he must have been our “manager.”
It happened when sound guys told me or other women in my bands that we were taking up too much space on a stage, or that we were playing too loud for the kind of music we were trying to do. It was the backhanded compliment of “wow, you are a really awesome drummer — I have never seen a woman play drums who could actually play.” (My response to those was always to get out a piece of paper and write down 20 women the person needed to go investigate immediately.)
In my current band Trophy Wife of the past nearly seven years, it’s the look of surprise when people realize it is just my best friend Diane and I making those big, loud sounds. It is us setting up for a show with a notable punk band who many folks wanted to open for and hearing the other band of men also opening for them complain about how they have to play before us — “who are those two anyway?” It is in the payment negotiation with clubs and venues — and even with bands made up of your friends.
It is ceaseless. And you will have to work ten times as hard at what you are doing to be taken seriously. To be given credit. To have your ideas heard and your presence afforded authority. Even then, it may be no use.
But there is good news. That good news comes in the form of things like Ladyfests, which showcase the music and creation of women and queer/trans folks. It comes in ROCKERS!, the incredible Philadelphia showcase series that highlights bands with queer people, women and people of color. It comes when we, as women creating art, refuse to see ourselves through the limited lens of “other” and refuse to compete with one another.
It comes by virtue of the fact that my drumkit doesn’t give a damn about any of this and will deliver for me exactly what I deliver for it.
So while Bjork’s comments reminded me of the microaggressions in the context of more pervasive oppression that marginalized people face making music, it also underscored a very real truth to me — that I am not alone, and that those kinds of barriers will never be enough to dissuade us from using our artistic voices. They will never fully discourage us from connecting with each other and creating space for other women to be heard.
They simply are not as strong as we are.
