TOP FIVE PLAYLIST
ELVIS COSTELLO, "Veronica"
ELVIS COSTELLO, "Alison"
ELVIS COSTELLO, "No Action"
ELVIS COSTELLO, "Beyond Belief"
R.E.M., "The One I Love"
R.E.M., "Orange Crush"
R.E.M., "Pop Song '89"
R.E.M., "Losing My Religion"
SLEATER-KINNEY, "I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone"
SLEATER-KINNEY, "All Hands on the Bad One"
SLEATER-KINNEY, "Get Up"
SLEATER-KINNEY, "Jumpers"
FLEETWOOD MAC, "Gypsy"
FLEETWOOD MAC, "Bare Trees"
FLEETWOOD MAC, "Gold Dust Woman"
FLEETWOOD MAC, "Don't Stop"
FIONA APPLE, "Get Him Back"
FIONA APPLE, "Better Version of Me"
FIONA APPLE, "Never Is a Promise"
FIONA APPLE, "Love Ridden"
EXTRA CREDIT:
MADONNA, "Express Yourself"
CROWDED HOUSE, "Don't Dream It's Over"
DONOVAN, "Jennifer Jupiter"
SANTANA, "Black Magic Woman"
JOHN WILLIAMS, "Star Wars: Main Theme"
WHERE HAVE ALL THE GIRL BANDS GONE?
IN JUNIOR HIGH I joined the school band because I wanted to play the drums. I had several years of piano lessons under my belt, which made me qualified to play instruments like the marimba or anything with a keyboard layout, but I had my heart set on the drums. I wanted to learn how to pound on them and make loud noises like a wild thing. Learning how to grip the sticks and play triplets and cross-stick on the snare drum was just as exciting and satisfying as I had hoped it would be.
Unfortunately, my first trip to the music store to buy my percussion kit with the little snare drum pad and tiny set of bells to practice on at home was a huge disappointment. Just after I announced that I was there to buy, but before I could say what instrument, the salesman asked me if I would be playing the clarinet. The clarinet, flute, and French horn (the last is inexplicable to me still) were considered the most girl-friendly instruments, judging by the urgings of the band instructors. In fact, those sections of the band were 99 percent female. Only one other girl and I made the cut for drums that year. And, fittingly, percussion was taught by the only male teacher in the music department.
I was irritated at being immediately pigeonholed as a clarinet player by the daft but well-meaning music store clerk. He didn't know it, but I was not and would never be the kind of girl who would play a woodwind instrument. I didn't want to blow into anything, I wanted to hit things. But girls aren't supposed to be aggressive. We're meant to look cute, get manicures, and daydream about weddings. I managed to obsess on all those things and still have a deep, burning desire to bang drums. Hard. And it bugged me that the guy in the music store wanted to girly me up from the get-go.
So I've always empathized with women who want to play in a band, and I'm doubly impressed by ladies who manage to pull together an all-girl band. It sounds simple, but practically speaking, it means finding a group of women who've braved the music-store guys who tend to think any female who wanders in is looking for a clarinet or is just someone's girlfriend,* women who possess the drive and wherewithal to pursue the very unglamorous lifestyle of a touring musician, women who have a passion for music that is so all-consuming that they want to make it their life in spite of having very few female role models for inspiration. Oh, and then once they form a band, they all have to get along. And they'll have to confound the expectations of their male road crew, who will assume they can't play.
When I was a young girl growing up in small-town Texas with a pack of boy cousins for playmates and little better to do on hot summer days than watch MTV, the Go-Go's had a huge impact on me. I had no interest in the underground at that age, but I loved pop music, and the video for "Our Lips Are Sealed" was one of my favorites. I didn't know that the Go-Go's were originally a dirty punk band who had gotten all shined up for MTV, but the ways they were different from the other female pop stars of the day weren't lost on me. I loved that in their video they were a little bit goofy, instead of posing sexily all the time like Pat Benatar or Debbie Harry. I loved that they each had their own distinct style. And there wasn't a guy in sight—a big deal to me at the time. Most of my days were spent with an army of male relatives who insisted I go fishing and watch their Little League games (both boring). In my preteen years, having the Go-Go's and the Bangles around solidified the idea that an all-girl band wasn't a big deal. It was something I and any girls I knew could do. Later I developed a teenage obsession with Hole and Belly, while Garbage, the Cranberries, and No Doubt loomed large on my radar. But the idea of girls' having their own bands started, for me, with the Go-Go's. But as fundamental and significant as the Go-Go's were in the history of girl bands, they were far from the first. There was a long line of girl groups who came before, paving the way for their success.
If you read about the history of girl bands, you'll find an overwhelming number of references to the men who discovered them, validated them, promoted them, or in some way svengalied them. It's as if no girl group could exist in the minds of music historians without the endorsement of a few major male figures to prove they weren't just another publicity stunt.
Take, for instance, Goldie & the Gingerbreads, the first girl rock band signed to a major label in the early 1960s. Considering that rock and roll only took off in the 1950s, the band's existence was pretty impressive. The road to equality has historically been a long one: remember, it wasn't until 1920 that women earned the right to vote in the United States. Given that fewer women worked outside the home in the '50s, and most female musicians were singers, an all-girl band strikes me as extremely progressive for 1962. They weren't entirely without precedent, having the all-girl jazz orchestras of the Prohibition era for musical inspiration, but these groups were largely viewed as pinup gimmicks and rarely granted their due respect as musicians.
Goldie & the Gingerbreads came together after singer Genya Zelkowitz spotted drummer Ginger Panabianco playing in a New York club. Excited by the idea of an all-girl band, the two quickly recruited pianist Carol O'Grady. They had a harder time finding a female guitarist and relied on an ever-changing lineup of touring and studio musicians. Organist Margo Lewis joined the group to replace O'Grady, and eventually they found singer and guitarist Carol MacDonald to complete the roster. They were by all accounts hardworking, serious musicians, yet their success is attributed not to their own ambition or skill, but to the interest of legendary Atlantic Records chairman Ahmet Ertegün and Keith Richards, who took them out on tour with the Rolling Stones. Goldie & the Gingerbreads were never regarded by audiences as anything more than a gimmick, in spite of the band's total sincerity and real talent. They released a few singles and then broke up.
Svengalis were a plague on the vocal girl groups of the 1960s. One of the most infamous examples is Phil Spector and the Crystals. The Crystals are still considered one of the premiere 1960s girl groups, and Spector was among the first to recognize their talent. He signed them as the first act on his Philles Records label, which should have been a dream come true for a rising girl group at the time. In the deal, he secured the rights to their name and likenesses, also taking for himself the right to produce them, to select the songs they would sing, and to market and release their albums. He was in complete control. It could have been an okay deal for the Crystals. They didn't write their own songs, so it wasn't as if this power-grab cost them the opportunity to collect royalties on lyrics, and Spector's famous Wall of Sound production techniques contributed to their reputation as one of the defining girl groups of the era. However, we are talking about Phil Spector—the only man to reportedly hold both the Beatles and the Ramones at gunpoint, so we can assume he's a little bit on the thuggish side of crazy.
Spector's mismanagement of the Crystals' career led to several embarrassing blunders, including the recording and release of "He Hit Me (It Felt Like a Kiss)." Written by Brill
Building stars Carole King and Gerry Goffin and inspired by the singer (and their babysitter) Little Eva, the song was a disturbing ode to domestic abuse based on an off-the-cuff story Eva told them about some bruises her boyfriend had left on her. She considered his abuse to be a sign of his love for her. The song was roundly rejected by radio listeners and left an odd stain on the Crystals' musical legacy. Not long after that unfortunate song was released, Spector began recording and releasing songs under the Crystals' name that were actually sung by Darlene Love and her group the Blossoms, as well as tracks featuring Love on lead vocals and the Crystals on backup.
In the case of "He's a Rebel," Spector may have mixed up performers strictly for convenience. He wanted to record a new song and the Crystals couldn't get from New York to L.A. fast enough, so he cut a cover of the song before another group could. This was a weird but common custom in the '50s and '60s. Writers sold their songs to groups, managers, labels, and producers, and then an "original" version would be cut. However, if someone else heard the song and thought it was a hit, they might produce their own version and release the "cover" before the "original," and the cover could easily be more successful on the charts. Some say he got tired of the girls' arguing over who would sing lead vocals and he put an end to the fights by not letting any of them sing. Whatever the case, the real Crystals had no recourse. And Spector seemed to feel that his work as producer was more important than their development as artists.
This would become a pattern for the treatment of '60s girl groups, from that other famous Spector group, the Ronettes, to the Barry Gordy–backed Supremes at Motown to songwriter Shadow Morton and the Shangri-La's. These groups sold a significant number of singles, but they were beholden to the men who drove their successes and ultimately many of the performers ended up broke. This led to a prevalent attitude in the music industry that girl groups were disposable, which didn't exactly pave a smooth road for a future full of girls in bands.
Girl groups were falling out of style by the end of the '60s until a rock band called Fanny appeared in 1970, becoming the first all-female band to release a full album on a major label, the venerable Reprise Records. The band was made up of a rotating cast, with sisters Jean and June Millington at the center of things. Being discovered by George Harrison didn't save them from vicious infighting after Patti Quatro (sister to the more-famous Suzi) joined the band. The battles—coupled with overall disappointing sales—led Fanny to fall apart in 1974. After their breakup, they were lauded by David Bowie as one of the great forgotten rock bands, though his praise is a bit tainted by rumors of his involvement with founding band member Jean Millington, who allegedly wrote the band's most successful single, "Butter Boy," about him (she went on to marry Earl Slick, who played guitar for Bowie).
The mid 1970s brought the Runaways, one of L.A.'s most famous girl bands, whose legacy has been recently revived. The 2010 movie The Runaways, starring Dakota Fanning and Twilight's Kristen Stewart, details their formation and early success. The biggest problem for the Runaways was their svengali, Kim Fowley, who was as famous for his creepy sexual advances and acid tongue as he was for the gold records he received for writing songs and producing some big-name groups. After his attempts at a solo recording career failed, he settled on the idea of founding an all-girl, all-underage rock band. He put the Runaways together, managed them, produced them, and ultimately made a lot of money by signing them to a contract that would have made Phil Spector proud—he essentially owned the band and controlled their finances.
The Runaways girls had very different personalities: Cherie Currie was the glam rocker, Joan Jett was the punk girl next door, Lita Ford was the metal-loving Cali girl, and Sandy West was the lovable stoner. The band also had a series of rotating bassists that rivaled Spinal Tap's drummers, the longest lasting of whom was Jackie Fox. Amazingly, their varied tastes meshed together into a cohesive rock sound, and they put out one really great, self-titled record in 1976. The band dissolved when the pressures of life on the road and the desire for fame led to borderline riots between the girls, but not before Joan Jett and Lita Ford established solid platforms from which they launched successful solo careers.
Throughout the '70s, for every Suzi Quatro who was allowed to mock-rock to songs written for her by professionals, there were twenty groupies like Sable Starr and Lori Lightning perpetrating the idea that while women could serve as muses for music, they had no business trying to play it. It was a fine time for women in music, as long as you were a disco diva who didn't mind singing to prerecorded tracks and could be satisfied by a one-hit-wonder career.
And then along came punk, with an ethos that leveled the playing field in music. By the time the punk movement hit, the fight for gender equality was real. Punks were all for embracing equal rights, or at least giving them serious lip service. Within this small subculture, the idea that girls—or any other outsider minority—shouldn't be in a band was dismissed. And because their world existed in the underground, no industry types came around to expound on the financial or marketing difficulties of an all-girl band.
Out of that world where anything was possible came the Go-Go's. In the band's early days, they were punk misfits. The original lineup included singer Belinda Carlisle, guitarist/vocalist Jane Wiedlin, bassist Margot Olaverra, singer/keyboardist Charlotte Caffey, and drummer Elissa Bello, with manager Ginger Canzoneri helping them pull it all together. They emerged from the L.A. punk scene alongside bands like the Germs, X, and the Weirdos. It was a time when, as Jane Wiedlin described to me, "if you had the balls to start a band, you could do it."
If you listen to some of the early recordings on Return to the Valley of the Go-Go's, especially "Johnny, Are You Queer?"* and "Living at the Canterbury," you can detect the punk aesthetic. It's easy to imagine that iteration of the Go-Go's running around with green hair in dresses made of trash bags, trying to write angry political punk songs. They learned to be a band through trial and error, playing in high schools and at L.A.'s premiere punk gathering place, the Masque. Before too long Bello and then Olaverra were kicked out of the band, to be replaced by Gina Schock and Kathy Valentine on drums and bass, respectively. By 1980, these five girls formed the Go-Go's as the world would come to know them.
The punk scene in L.A. was late developing relative to the New York and London scenes, and it fizzled out very quickly. The Go-Go's probably would have stayed dirty punk girls if that act had a chance to get them the fame and fortune they were seeking, but punk was already slipping out of fashion in favor of new wave by the time they went on tour opening for Madness in 1980. They realized they had some strong pop-song writers in the band, and so they adapted.
The Go-Go's eventually landed a deal with Stiff Records in the UK to record a single that became an underground import success in the United States, but the girls still couldn't get a proper US record deal. There are a variety of factors that influence an Artist & Repertoire (A&R) person's decision to sign a band—from their fit at the label and how the band members look to who their manager is—the latter being a pretty good indication of how well the band and the label will work together. Many a weak manager has been pushed out of the picture because record labels don't like him.
For the Go-Go's, the problem was an altogether different issue. Kathy Valentine explains: "When we were trying to get a record deal, we were told over and over that whatever label didn't want to sign us because there hadn't been a successful all-girl band before. So we thought if we had a hit record we would just abolish that." Even the serious girl bands, such as Goldie & the Gingerbreads and Fanny, had been received by the marketplace as fads with little prospect for long-term success. So the idea of signing a band that might never be taken seriously by consumers, in an emerging genre with no track record of sales, a band whose greatest support came from a new music TV channel called MTV that record labels didn't yet understand, was a tough sell for the old-school record-label guys. Plus, these guys typically courted bands with the promise of professio
nal groupies and drugs, tricks that were ill-fitting for an all-girl band with punk roots.
MTV played the videos for "Vacation" and "Our Lips Are Sealed" on heavy rotation, sending the songs into millions of suburban homes and reintroducing them to hundreds of radio station program directors who had previously dismissed them. Eventually the Go-Go's landed at a relatively new record label called I.R.S., also the home of the original college rock band, R.E.M. I.R.S. was founded by Miles Copeland—brother to Stewart Copeland, the drummer in the Police—which explains how the Go-Go's ended up opening for the Police on a few world tours.
I.R.S. and the Go-Go's turned out to be a perfect match. I.R.S. was an upstart label with trendsetting backers, a number of singles from popular UK bands, and a roster of rad bands like the Buzzcocks and the English Beat. I.R.S. made a fortune on the Go-Go's, and the Go-Go's got access to the record-industry machine that could help make their songs into radio hits, thereby selling millions of albums. The girls found themselves surrounded by a staff of mostly young people who were concerned with both credibility and success. This meant the Go-Go's were allowed to develop their own style without a lot of meddling from stylists, media trainers, and marketing consultants. In conversations with Charlotte Caffey, Kathy Valentine, and Jane Wiedlin, all three confirmed that the Go-Go's truly were the girls you saw: they picked out their own clothes, styled themselves (and their hair) as they wanted, and wrote their own songs. They saw themselves as a group of all-American California girls and didn't think of themselves as sex symbols.
Record Collecting for Girls: Unleashing Your Inner Music Nerd, One Album at a Time Page 3
