Published by Rockpool Publishing
24 Constitution Road
Dulwich Hill NSW 2203
AUSTRALIA
www.rockpoolpublishing.com.au
www.markbyrne.com.au
First published in 2007, updated edition 2010
Copyright © Rockpool Publishing 2010
Rock chicks : the hottest female rockers from the 1960s to now / Alison Stieven-Taylor ;
photographs by Tony Mott.
2nd ed.
9781921295355 (pbk.)
Women rock musicians--Biography.
Rock musicians--Biography.
Rock music--History and criticism.
Rock music.
Mott, Tony.
781.66082
Cover and internal design by Debaser
Typesetting J&M Typesetting and Nicholson Design
Picture research by Lisa Perry
Printed and bound by Everbest Printing Co Ltd
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Note from the Author
What is a Rock Chick?
That Indefinable Rock Chick Thing
1960s
The birth of the rock band
JANIS JOPLIN
MARIANNE FAITHFULL
TINA TURNER
1970s
protest & punk
SUZI QUATRO
JOAN JETT
ANN & NANCY WILSON
PATTI SMITH
STEVIE NICKS
DEBBIE HARRY
1980s
When Dance & Pop ruled
ANNIE LENNOX
PAT BENATAR
CHRISSIE HYNDE
MADONNA
KIM GORDON
CHRISSY AMPHLETT
KIM DEAL
1990s
Pop Princess & Riot Grrrls
PJ HARVEY
MELISS A ETHERIDGE
SHERLY CROW
COURTNEY LOVE
ALANIS MORISSETTE
GWEN STEFANI
2000s
Hip Hop & Pole Dancer
KELLY CLARKSON
PINK
AVRIL LAVIGNE
KAREN O
Discography
Acknowledgements
Back Cover Material
Note from the Author
Everyone of the rock chicks in this book have sung songs that are etched into my personal history. Such is the power of music that I only need to hear a few lines or the beginning of the tune and I’m immediately transported to the moment connected to that particular song—breaking up with my boyfriend, the birth of my sons, my first trip to Europe.
Suzi Quatro’s Can the Can was one of the first albums I bought. I danced the heels off my stilettos to Tina Turner’s ‘Nutbush City Limits’ at the disco end of the 1970s and tried to emulate Debbie Harry’s two-tone hair while listening to Parallel Lines. Heart’s rock anthems used to blare from my car stereo and I played Stevie Nicks’ ‘Rhiannon’ and ‘Edge of Seventeen’ until the tape became so stretched it was cobbled up by the cassette player.
In the early 1980s I drank black coffee, wore black leather and lycra and smoked gold-tipped Russian cigarettes. I listened to Marianne Faithfull’s Broken English as if it were the new religion. Marianne had taken tales of suicide, love, drugs, sex and hate and wrapped them in a vice-like grip with her tobacco-ravished voice and acid phrasing. It was an album of pure genius—and malice. I bought a bootleg copy from a friend who worked for Gaslight Records because it was banned in Australia for its use of profanity.
By 1983 I was working in Los Angeles as a publicist on the Men at Work North American and Canadian tour. Australian culture was having its fifteen minutes of fame in the USA—being an Aussie made you flavour of the day. I shared a house with two sound engineers who worked with Prince and bands like Motley Crue. When I returned to Australia the following year I moved from publicist to writer, interviewing artists for various music magazines including Rolling Stone and Australian Musician. Although today we are not allowed to accept gifts and freebies, journalists used to get great perks and I enjoyed my fair share of backstage parties and industry events. In 1998 I covered the New Zealand Music Awards for Rolling Stone, the year a tiny woman named Bic Runga swept the pool and alternate rock band Shihad were gods.
Even though trends shift, and what you were listening to in the 1970s is different to what you may enjoy today, the permanency of music and its ability to move you is constant. Music’s ability to interpret, reflect, celebrate and commiserate the human condition is fundamental to how we communicate. For the average Jane on the street, music is a part of her everyday life. Through radio, CDs, films, video, TV and online, our senses—and imaginations—are constantly stimulated.
Music is also a business. Record companies advance money to bands to record, tour and make videos. All these funds have to be repaid through record sales. The musicians make money out of song royalties and those who are also songwriters—like Stevie Nicks, Pink and Madonna—can become seriously wealthy from song rights alone.
Rock Chicks celebrates the women musicians and singers who have given us some of the most stimulating and evocative songs by which our lives keep tempo. Rock on.
What is a Rock Chick?
A rock chick is a female musician, usually a lead singer, who rocks with real musicians. She has successfully defied the contemporary stereotypical image of women singers to rail against the pop princesses, girl groups and manufactured dolly music. She’s high energy, in-your-face, daring anyone to challenge her right to be up there on stage rocking the audience.
The women in this book are unique in their interpretation of rock. Many have broken down barriers for generations to come—Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks and Debbie Harry are three of the most influential women in rock and the most frequently cited as influences by other female musicians.
My list of rock chicks came together after I hounded around thirty music and entertainment industry experts who willingly lent me their collective brain and allowed me to pick through it. My list may not be their list—or yours. But it’s the one I think best represents the essence of the rock chick.
Some puzzled over the fact that today the rock chick has almost disappeared.
Others questioned the inclusion of artists like Madonna. I don’t think she meets the criteria musically, but her impact on popular culture—not just music, but film, literature, fashion, sexuality and even religion—cannot be ignored. She is a rock phenomenon who just happens to be a chick.
Courtney Love, too, is a controversial pick. In my opinion she barely scrapes in as a musician. She may have the pretences to rock, but she doesn’t have the heart. She is more obsessed with fame than with the craft of music and if it weren’t for the Nirvana-ish Live Through This album she wouldn’t be worthy of more than a passing comment.
There are of course, other great women singers and musicians in so many different genres, but when it comes to rock—hard, gritty, spill your soul and don’t apologise for it kind of rock—these women encapsulate it.
That Indefinable Rock Chick Thing
by Tony Mott
When I was first told about Rock Chicks I had two reactions. One was excitement—my career has been blessed with working with people I would define as rock chicks. The second reaction was—wow, what a task to compile the list without missing somebody out or upsetting other pe
ople. I was excited because rock chicks are fantastic to photograph. And I know it is impossible to make a perfect list because everybody has a different view of what defines a rock chick.
For me it’s a combination of qualities. A rock chick is sassy, sexy and has loads of charisma—and, above all, is empowering both to herself and her audience.
The first rock chick I remember was Suzi Quatro. You just didn’t see a bass player clad in a leather jumpsuit strutting her stuff with one of the qualities I believe is essential—attitude and in abundance. The first rock chick I photographed was Chrissy Amphlett from Divinyls. She was unbelievable on stage, ranging from banshee to an escapee from the local asylum. You never quite knew what she was going to do next. Unpredictable but she was always engaging and always believable and, yes, a contradiction. I couldn’t keep my eyes—actually my lens—off her. For me, she still stands as one of the greatest performers I’ve had the pleasure to photograph.
A few other rock chicks have left a lasting impression on me. Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth was the queen of the rock grunge revolution—I think her single ‘Cool Thing’ epitomises that time. Alanis Morrisette’s stage presence is unique, prowling the stage not unlike a caged lion. Meeting and photographing Marianne Faithfull—whose album Broken English still has the power to shock—was daunting in the extreme. Johnette Napolitano from Concrete Blonde was very much her own person and took no nonsense from her record company—after the label asked her not to wear too much black, she arrived in nothing but black, including black lipstick. Patti Smith was most unsociable but totally engaging on stage, screaming her poems and songs at a bewildered young audience at the Big Day Out. And from Geelong, Adilta from Magic Dirt is everything a rock chick should be.
Like anyone who picks up this book, my rock chicks list is my own. Here are some photographs of some of my favourites. I’ve included a few who aren’t profiled. Although they may not have had the commercial success and/or influence of some of the other woman in the book, they are true rock chicks in my book.
1960s
The birth of the rock band
The cultural revolution that was the 1960s actually began the decade before with the rise of the Beats, a group of American writers who composed riffs challenging the mores of the stuffy Western society of the post-Second World War years. On the surface everything appeared sunny and civil. But there was an undercurrent of fear and oppression darkened by the shadows of the A-bomb and the Cold War and stirred by the increasingly potent black rights movement led by Martin Luther King. And the tidy society of suburbs and wifely submission was about to be shaken by the introduction of the contraceptive pill and women’s sexual ‘liberation’.
The work of the Beats—most notably Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg—described the alienation of youth, was influenced by jazz and subjected to censorship. They lived on the fringe, experimenting with drugs and writing about subjects not discussed by polite society. Along with Marlon Brando and James Dean, they were ‘rebels without a cause’. The Beats hung out in the North Beach area of San Francisco, smoking weed and chewing speed in open defiance of the authorities. Many of the rock chicks—including Janis Joplin, Marianne Faithfull and Chrissie Hynde—cite the writers of the Beat Generation as major influences.
In August 1961 Berliners awoke to find their city divided by an ugly barbed wire wall. Overnight the Soviets had erected a wall dividing East and West Berlin. Protests against racial segregation were splitting America and folk singers were beginning to top the charts with political protest songs. Two years later, John F Kennedy was assassinated, Martin Luther King gave his landmark ‘I have a dream’ speech and the US Congress held the first hearings into the fair treatment of women where terms like the ‘glass ceiling’ were heard. There had been a seismic shift in society.
Rock music was born into this world in turmoil. Whether it was a case of life imitating art or vice versa, the artists of the 1960s, and musicians in particular, were central to change. The music of the 1950s—the choreographed girl groups like the Chantels and the Chordettes, female singers Connie Francis, Rosemary Clooney, Patti Page, Petula Clark, Doris Day and Peggy Lee, and the male jivers Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Bobby Darin—began to look like crooning, left behind in the wake of a new genre in music.
The Beatles are acknowledged as the instigators of the revolutionary sound that became known as rock. It was a musical genre that morphed into new forms with a rapidity that was as mind-blowing as the psychedelic drugs that fuelled much of the creativity. It embraced a new culture based on personal freedom and experimentation, and endorsing psychedelic drugs, protest, ‘free’ love and ‘free’ living.
Within a space of only two years, popular music went from Chubby Checker and doing the twist in 1961 to the Beatles, who started to hit the big time in 1963. The British embraced the new sound with fervor, just as they took to Mary Quant’s mini-skirt and other ‘Swinging London’ fashions. In the first half of the 1960s, the Brits gave the world the Rolling Stones, the Who, the Yardbirds, the Pretty Things, the Kinks and the Small Faces, many of whom took their inspiration from rhythm’n’blues. And soaring above the crowds were the stunning voices of Dusty Springfield and her American counterpart Aretha Franklin.
Beatlemania soon swept the States and almost all corners of the globe. In the USA bands formed at the speed in which rabbits procreate. Live venues sprung up across the country and bands played in city parks, theatres, cafes, clubs and halls. Crosby, Stills and Nash were sharing the billing with the likes of the Lovin’ Spoonful, the Mamas and the Papas, Simon and Garfunkel, Peter, Paul and Mary and Ian and Sylvia. Considered more folk rock than folk were Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Moby Grape, Three Dog Night and Janis Joplin’s Big Brother and the Holding Company. To crown it all, Bob Dylan, the golden boy of folk scandalised the Newport Folk Festival crowd by going ‘electric’ in 1965.
The fashionista were encased in velvet, leather, short skirts, high boots and sex and sizzle. Style was everything, and the Beatles and the Stones were widely imitated, particularly Mick Jagger. His partner Marianne Faithfull had a hit with ‘As Tears Go By’ and was the poster girl for teenagers. Everyone wanted to be Marianne—or Twiggy, the wraith-like model who introduced a look later known as heroin chic.
Like other female singers of the time, Marianne Faithfull didn’t threaten anyone (that came later). The big stars of the day—Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins and Joan Baez—were folk singers. One exception was Grace Slick, whose deep voice was ideally suited to the psychedelic folk rock that made Jefferson Airplane famous. But it took Janis Joplin to really shake things up, just as the women’s liberation movement was becoming a force for political and social change.
The psychedelic drug, lysergic acid (LSD), had entered the collective consciousness by 1965 and advocates such as the Harvard professor Timothy Leary gave it celebrity status. Art, music and literature were under the influence, most famously the Beatles’ 1967 groundbreaking Sgt. Pepper album, which introduced a new acid rock sound influenced by mind-altering drugs and Eastern mysticism.
The Haight-Ashbury area of San Francisco was taken over by stoned hippies who were ‘dropping out’ of conventional society and embracing a ‘holistic’ attitude to life, in which spirit, earth and self come together. The hippie movement spread, fuelled by music, acid and disillusionment with the politics of war and discrimination. The young were leaving behind the beliefs and values of their parents’ generation. Song lyrics shifted from love to environmentalism, consumerism, politics, war, drugs and personal freedom. There were anti-war songs, songs against segregation and songs like Jefferson Airplane’s ‘White Rabbit’ about the effects of psychedelic drugs.
By 1967—the ‘summer of love’—the hard-edged London fashions had morphed into frills and flowers, and the hippie movement had blossomed into a community of tens of thousands, many of whom congregated
in San Francisco. At the world’s first large-scale rock festival, at Monterey in California, Janis Joplin gave the landmark performance of her career. Less blossom, more grunge, Warhol darling Nico was recording her first album with the Velvet Underground in New York.
It wasn’t all peace, love and sex. By 1968, when Martin Luther King was assassinated, crime rates in the USA had increased nearly tenfold on the decade before, anti-Vietnam demonstrations were daily events and race riots were causing havoc. In some American cities the atmosphere was close to that of civil war. Musically, one of the positives was the rise in prominence of African-American singers such as Tina Turner. For the first time, black artists were being ranked in the mainstream charts and rock artists like Janis Joplin and the Rolling Stones continued to cover songs by old blues artists.
Joplin was a headliner at 1969’s Woodstock, a festival held on a farm in upstate New York. For three days, over 400,000 people grooved—to Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Canned Heat, Sly and the Family Stone—as the heavens opened and rivers of rain turned the ground into a bog. Hippies got stoned, danced, rolled naked in the mud, made babies and freaked out on bad acid.
But the peace and love turned sour at the Stones’ free concert at Altamont in California when a concertgoer was stabbed to death by one of the Hell’s Angels, who were acting as security guards.
As the 1960s came to a close, man [sic] walked on the moon with a greater certainty than he was treading the earth.
Queen of the Dionysian Rock Age
But few can deny her impact. Her on-stage flamboyance, bravado, raw vocal style and drug-ravished rock-star behaviour shocked a society used to women being compliant and polite.
Janis could sing like an African-American blues singer then pick it up a tempo and roll her voice around the new hard-core rock sound. She was the first real rock chick, shaking up the music scene with her powerful performance and strong personality. Her influence extends far beyond her musical output—she only recorded four albums. She was a role model for young women who were inspired by her apparent fearlessness at being herself, of embracing the times. Some thought her hard. But Janis was struggling, caught up in the moral dilemmas of eschewing the established social mores.
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