rock star! a rambling musical manifesto to wrap up summer

introduction

when i was a kid i absolutely idolized the 60s and 70s, including rock-n-roll from the time (mostly Janis Joplin.)  and when i was 10 or so i bought my first CDs-- nirvana and tracy bonham.  i also remember having nine inch nails on cassette tape and a kurt cobain poster on my wall in 5th grade!  but my attention to rock as a genre was relatively short-lived.  and when, at 16 or so, i started to consider the idea of myself as a real musician, it was because of the jazz albums that spoke to me: ella fitzgerald, thelonious monk, oscar peterson, coleman hawkins...  it has been mostly jazz musicians that i've continued to turn to in shaping my identity as a musician, and in seeking out musical communities.  

now i'm not into genres and categories, and by no means do i only listen to jazz.  i recognize that jazz and rock have similar roots, and continue to influence each other. but up until recently, "rock" scenes have felt personally uninviting.  what i want to write about here is my participation in some self-identifying "rock" spaces this summer.  in particular my summer involved 3 sexy things: willie mae rock camp for girls, afro-punk, and the black rock coalition.  each of these could easily be a post in itself, so you should check out those links to learn more.  rather than explain in great detail what each organization is all about, i want to write about my experience of the work they do, and what it's making me think about performance in general, and my own identity as a performer.

willie mae rock camp for girls

this is my 3rd year working with the 8-18 year-old girls at rock camp, alongside the other fabulous women and trans folks who volunteer.  rock camp was the first place where i played with other women instrumentalists!  i've found that gender alone is not an indicator of musical compatibility, but it's certainly an interesting experience to play with other women and to share stories of our experiences.  i now play in a jazz trio with two women i met at rock camp.  so certainly, rock camp has been important for me as a source of networking with other women.

but maybe more importantly, rock camp has pushed me up against notions of skill mastery.  i come from a world of formalized music study.  in this world, to play well, you have to know your scales and shit!  rock camp, on the other hand, emerges from the riot grrrl movement.  teaching at rock camp means telling the girls that every sound they make is great.  if they are happy with it, we are happy with it.  some of the campers may have never played an instrument before the week of camp, and yet we call them "rock stars" and place them on a real stage at the end of a week.  and we are thrilled with the music they make- even if some of them are only going to strum the open strings of a guitar.  i love this.  what spaces exist where we truly feel like our every creative endeavor is worthy of being heard?  how much do we, as artists (and especially women artists), censor and judge our own work?   i love the idea that whatever the girls do is enough.  this is something i struggle with-- i never feel like what i'm doing is enough.  

sometimes, however, rock camp can suffer from a fairly rigid asthetic among volunteer tastes.  i don't love the riot grrrl music.  i respect what the movement represents but i think the music is boring.  it might be shocking to say this out loud at camp!  in fact, i had a private conversation with 2 other volunteers and we were so relieved to find, in private, that we all agreed on this point!  i think the fact that the riot grrrl music sounds boring has something to do with the lack of skill that it requires.  i don't want to come off as a music snob and, again, i can learn a lot from the DIY attitude.  but i know it is not sufficient, for me to see women holding instruments and making noise.  i think our presence and our message can only be more powerful if we have some fierce chops with which to deliver it.  i do not want to hand young women the pressure that that statement can hold (and that i often experience as debilitating,) but the excitement of the power and opportunity for self-expression that comes with skill.  in bass classes, i do teach the more experienced students how to play their scales and other more technical skills.  but we'll only work on it if they're into it.  (and some of them are really into it.)  rock camp works best when it pushes the girls to honor all the sounds they attempt, but to also push themselves to take music seriously as a skill that can be developed.

the other gift that rock camp gives me is being reminded over and over again that music theory is not simply something you study in school.  it's natural-- in our ears without us knowing it.  for example, i watched this scenario: a 15 year-old girl who never played keyboard before.  she has only been shown how to play a C major triad.  in band practice at camp, she and her band write a song together, and there is a part in it where she plays the chord, repeatedly.  but one day in practice, she moves to F and G triads, and then back to C (the IV and the V chord, back to the I chord!)  no one has shown her this and she could never explain what she has done.  but she has, totally instinctually, played the blues.  the other band coach and i are stunned.  we did not need to teach this girl the blues-- she went right for it; it was in her instincts, her ears and fingertips!

and speaking of the blues... one the most thrilling moments of camp this summer was a lunch-time performance by Beverly "Guitar" Watkins.  this lady is the fiercest of the fierce.  check out her story, watch her do her thing below, but you will only get a glimmer of what it was like to see her perform and to watch the campers take her in.  they were already really into it, and then partway through the show this 69-year-old blues lady bent down on one knee, put the guitar up behind her head, and took a killer solo.  say what!?  the girls freaked out-- screaming and cheering.  yes, yes!  the blues is the roots.  the kids dug it so much, i could only say, "the blues is alive and well!" Beverly may have been the least classifiably "rock" of the two weeks worth of performers, but if she's not a rock star, who is?

afropunk

"Afro-punk is a platform for the other Black experience, the one we don't see in our media. D.I.Y (Do It Yourself) is the foundation."  (from afropunk.com)  i went to a bunch of concerts at the afro punk music festival held in a parking lot outside of BAM.  the lot is transformed-- a stage, a bmx ramp, space to skate, and walls for spray paint.  the whole event is amazing, but i'll just mention a few things here. 

first of all: Tamar Kali.  i've heard her stuff before, and seen her videos, but i had never seen her live.  her voice, her presence, the way she moves...  at one point she asked the audience how our vaginas were doing!  and i had to admit, i wished i'd brought a change of underwear!  for real though.  i don't want to over-analyze her brilliance (as i am wont to do) but definitely check her out yourself.  

i also saw Saul Williams tear it up.  this piece in particular stayed with me:

at the game rebellion show, the band facilitated some crowd surfing.  the lead singer/ rapper was asking people to pack tightly up front and at first, only some people moved.  but it was when he asked us to move up in the name of community organizing that myself, and many more folks followed suit!  and it truly did feel like a community.  all kinds of folks jumped off the stage and into the crowd-- big muscly men, women in tube tops that miraculously stayed on, small children.  we reached our hands up high to hold them, passing them along, gracefully panicked under their weight.  there was also a mosh pit that was beautiful to watch.  two firsts for me.

black rock coalition

the BRC is "A collective of artists, writers, producers, publicists, activists and music fans assembled to maximize exposure and provide resources for Black artists who defy convention."  (from blackrockcoalition.org)  the BRC helps make rock camp happen and also runs other fabulous events.  i attended 2 this summer.

the first event was a tribute to abbey lincoln, eartha kitt, miriam makeba, and odetta, held outdoors at lincoln center.  i learned that tamar kali is not only a hardcore goddess;  at this event, tamar was among the incredible singers showcased and she sang "c'est si bon," making the strength and versatility of her voice that much clearer.  i love that groups like afro punk and the BRC are not concerned with genres.  the 4 women they paid tribute to have got to be some of the biggest rock stars, even if folks wouldn't usually call them that!  i was particularly pleased because they did one of my all time favorite miriam makeba songs.  here is makeba herself doing "amampondo."  i pretty much fainted the first time i saw this video.

the second BRC event i went to was a concert at a club in manhattan.  out of character for me on several fronts- i went to a rock show at a rock venue, and i went by myself.  i was having a kind of rough time personally which made me nervous about going out alone and to a place that is not usually my scene.  but i had this instinct, even though i didn't know any of the bands, that somehow it would be exactly the right thing to do.  and i waited for the last band because i knew, somehow, that she would give me just what i needed.  i was so right.  sophia ramos has an insanely powerful voice and performance.  she has janis-esque control and grit and madness.  i stood up front and danced like crazy.  she sang originals and even a blues, at which point she walked through the audience.  her set ended and i left immediately.  my two trains came right away even though it was late at night.  i got home feeling so fed by time with myself, some nyc luck, apt instincts, and the music i wanted so bad.

can i be a rock star?  reflection and desire beyond genre

i'm making this confession: i want to be a rock star.  maybe most musicians do?  i don't mean that we want to be famous or make music that gets filed in record stores under "rock."  what i'm learning is this: truly being a rock star means making music and performance that can be unapologetically loud, flashy, sexy, danceable, current, personal, messy and angry.  in my fantasies, my music is all of these things, (though not necessarily all at once!)  why is it a fantasy?  why do these descriptors feel intimidating?  in general, they have certainly not felt accessible to me in the communities where i make music.  why not? 

sometimes, when i am a bandleader i am afraid.  as a bass player so often i stand on the side of the band, hold up the bottom, play the supporting role.  i love this.  but in certain bands i also sing, write the music, and stand in front.  i am not a shy person but the idea of taking up so much space sometimes feels overwhelming.  here i am:  a woman, with short hair, hairy armpits, a huge and amplified instrument resting against my belly and breasts, a microphone in front of my face, and now there is an audience watching me.  sometimes it feels almost like too much.  

i usually have anxiety getting dressed before these gigs where i am up in front.  i am no fashionista, but sometimes i enjoy getting creative with clothes.  yet usually for these gigs i try on several outfits and opt for the least flashy of the bunch-- something not too bright, not too revealing, not to feminine.  in the preparation for these gigs i am hyper aware of how my body may be perceived and it feels stifling.  (once i play, of course, i pretty much forget all this.)

i am writing this here so i can let it go.  i want to take a page from my rock star sisters.  it doesn't mean i necessarily need to whip out my tits like sophia ramos (did you watch that video?!) but i want to be real about the ways that my whole self, body included, are a part of my performance.  i can never control the way others perceive me- they can make it about my body whether it's hidden or exposed.  but i want to decide, on my own terms, what my presentation means to me.  this means- what does my music sound like?  what does it say?  who is in my band?  how do we sound and how do we look?  how are we presenting our bodies and our image?  how do we interact (or not) with the audience?  

i am a constant a defender of jazz.  i believe in the inspiration of much of its history.  i believe in the power of improvisation- hallelujah!  and i know that folks who play "jazz" reinvent, cross-pollinate and push the genre in many directions today.  jazz is so much more than what many folks think of with that word.  but there are ways, i think, it has not served me to identify as a jazz musician as i've shaped my musical identity thus far; ways that it limits my access to some of the power of music-making.  i think this is because some of the crucial questions i list in the previous paragraph are often unasked in the jazz community at large.

ultimately, it's a question of what does it mean to be a performer.  and this is something that jazz these days seems to either have a very limited perception of (ie. young lions style, read: wear suits and honor a revisionist history;) or does not concern itself with at all (ie. dress like you would at home, barely address the audience, and do not worry if your music is only accessible to musicians and music students.)  this second model has been most prominent in my life and it is based on an ideal of making an academic music that is just about the music, that only concerns itself with the sounds.  it is true, rock's lights and costumes and such can be all gimmick and no substance, a cover for music that means nothing.  but this other extreme- music as purely intellectual practice- is compartmentalizing in a way that only privilege allows.  

ultimately, this has little to do with jazz versus rock-n-roll.  i'm realizing this as i write.  i hope i have not framed the argument that way.  the three organizations i talked about are not typical of rock.  they exist because of the lack of space for women and people of color in music.  they are on the margins which is why they provide satisfying spaces for me and other rock spaces do not.  i can be most critical of jazz because it is what i know most about and because it is so much of what i love.  but there isn't any genre (that i know of) which exists outside of the systems of oppression in society as a whole.  these same systems that limit our ease to live as we desire, limit or challenge our ease to fully express our whole selves creatively.  

for me, performing can never just be about sound.  there are moments when i am more or less conscious of it, but all aspects of my identity are fully present when i present my music.  jazz these days (especially the creative/ improvised music scene i know and love in nyc) is dominated by straight white men.  and in this culture, white men have the privilege of being neutral.  and so, for better or worse, they often only concern themselves with their sounds and leave their selves out of the ways they think through performance.  i cannot, will not do this.

i am sick of many things.  i am sick of spaces where taking in music is a silent, sit-down endeavor of musicians and college-educated folks who judge based on asthetics, references other music "we" have as common experience, and skillful manipulation of learned structures and theories.  

i am also excited about many things.  i am excited about music that creates diverse and accessible community of participants who are whole people (and not just extensions of their instruments,) who have things to say, see technical skill primarily as a vehicle for self expression, and honor a vast history of musical ancestors.  

i cannot leave myself, my story, my body, identity out of my music.  sometimes this feels like a curse.  sometimes this is why i can't bring myself to practice or compose.  i can't be with my instrument and i can't be with myself.  but sometimes this is what pushes me.  this is the place where ideas come from, where melodies and concepts and projects begin.  

my first ever blog post was a rambling manifesto about my frustrations, hopes and experiences as a female musician.  i think, in a way, this is the echo, almost 2 years later, of that first post.  i am having lots of fantasies these days.  what if i took a page (so to speak) from the DIY culture and made a zine about some of these thoughts to sell at shows?  what if there was a jazz camp for girls?  or a retreat for female jazz musicians?  what if i wear something outrageous to my next big show?  what if i wrote a series of compositions devoted to different body parts?  if you are reading, maybe you have your own ideas or want to help with any of these.  maybe some of these things already exist and i just don't know about them.  if so, please tell me!  even if no one's reading, it feels like a huge first step just to put my scheming out there, new and undeveloped.  

i leave you with this: a humble solo performance by me.  a tiny rock star moment?  this particular video is appropriate for this post because it's my take on the tracy bonham song "the real" (from that first cd i bought way back in my short-lived rock stage in the late '90s!)  my recent explorations of solo performance feel like just the kind of self-indulgence that i need to nurture in myself to truly be a rock star!  

in the third generation the daughters are free

i have a cd out.  since March in fact, and i'm not sure why i haven't posted about it until now.  maybe a strange desire to still separate out parts of my life- which is this anti-thesis of this blog, right?  so here are the facts:

you can buy my cd, in the third generation the daughters are free on itunes.

the album is, essentially, about family history.  and you can read my published artist statement in the literary magazine Shaking Like a Mountain.

there is a press release/ review on all about jazz's website.

there is a lovely review in chronogram magazine.

and below is a video of part of the cd release concert- the whole thing, in fact, is on youtube.

this is what has happened.  now- how to keep moving?

spring can really hang you up the most

a new idea i'm working on with this standard. (even though it's not april anymore!) you may want to listen with headphones to really hear the bass.  a continuation of my new attempt to turn off the self-edit mode by putting stuff out there, even if it's not fully formed.  

stay with me

my take on "stay with me" by sparlha swa.  

trying to build up some solo bass/ voice pieces these days.  

might be easier to hear the bass if you listen with headphones.  

satisfy this hungriness

after listening repeatedly to both nina simone and cat power take on this song, i decided to see what would happen if i tried.  it's rough around the edges but honestly, so was i in this moment.  posting this video in an effort to spill my creative juices a little more indeterminately these days.

shit-deflection and the erotic as power

last week, i had a gig with a professor of mine. i was on bass, my friend and fellow student on drums, and the teacher on piano. we played his music, some improvisations, and the standard "autumn leaves" at a cafe. i was honored to be playing with him, even though the gig was weird-- we played following a rather horrible, pretentious poet, and then a belly dancer (the audience members with their mouths hanging out like they were in a strip club.) but the show went well. i think. i'm trying lately not to judge my own playing but just keep on.

but here's the point... afterwards i was throwing away my paper tea cup. there was a middle-aged white man, sitting on a couch in a black hat. he was beckoning towards me. so i went up to him and he said "you sounded great." "thanks," i said "i wasn't sure if you were motioning for me to come or not." "i wasn't," he said. "but not only did you sound great, you looked great with that instrument." i was shocked. i walked away mumbling to myself. then i was shocked for being shocked, pissed for being pissed.

this is not the first time i've gotten comments like this. it's part of the bag of people's reactions to female bassists, i suppose. a similar story: after a gig a few weeks ago, i struck up a conversation with some guy. he was singing along in russian with the recorded music between bands. i asked him about it. then he said "it's great to watch women playing music." (i was playing in a band with 3 women, one man. an unusual situation for me.) "to watch them, or to listen to them?" i asked. he didn't pick up on my offer for him to save his ass. he reiterated that the watching part came first. and i walked away again.

and yet i still don't know what to say back to these men. this guy at the cafe (who was old enough to be my father) and his insignificant comment struck a nerve. i felt helpless. retort-less. i glared at him as i carried music stands to the car. i wanted to expose him to the people that he sat with (his family, i assumed). expose him as what? i wanted to teach him a lesson, to let him know that women don't need approval for their physical appearance. i play for people to enjoy my music not my body. that i hope (perhaps naively?) that when i stepped onto the stage people will respond to me differently than when i walk down the street.

as we were packing up the car, i told my drummer-friend about what had happened. and that i was now in a bad mood. he was sympathetic, he's a good listener. but he told me that i need a better shit-deflector. later, talking to my mother on the phone, she agreed. "you're a performer," she said, "you're going to get this stuff all the time. people carry their shit everywhere and they are going to offer it to you. you can't take it from them."

and the fact is, there's bigger shit, right? there are more offensive things that have been said to me. there are more difficult decades i could have been born a female jazz musician. (what about Billy Tipton, born Dorothy Tipton-- a pianist who began presenting as male in the 1930s to avoid discrimination.... read more here)

and i'm just saying, i'm not easy target. i'm argumentative. i carry a big instrument, my head is shaved! i have been the only woman musician in the jazz department at my college. (aside from a fabulous teacher, thank the lord! more on her later.) and generally, no one messes with me. in fact, i feel very much a part of the jazz community here at school. after 4 years, we have a little sweet dysfunctional family.

but this is what it's like having a body. no one needs to say things really, just being in an all-male space makes my breasts feel bigger, makes skirts feel girlier. my thighs, my butt take on new meaning in these spaces. sometimes, bending over to unzip my bass case, i wonder if there's something provocative about this motion. i am even a bit embarrassed writing this here. because i'm not a self-conscious person and also, i love my curves! but this is having a body. men get to be neutral. sometimes i want that luxury.

and just a few days ago i had a fascinating and honest conversation with another male musician-friend of mine. he mentioned that when he first met me, he thought i was gay. this does not surprise me or bother me, but i was curious about where this idea came from. with further probing he explained that i had seemed non-sexual at the time (there was an implication that he feels differently now, and i've wondered at times if there is in fact sexual tension between us.) 0ver the course of the conversation about my place in the school jazz department, he also referred to me as "a big sister" and "one of the guys." are these my options? are these the limited ways i may be viewed as a woman?

what do i do with this knowledge? i am uncomfortable with being non-sexual (as may be implied by being a mother, sister, or "one of the guys") and i am also uncomfortable being sexualized (ie. having strangers comment on my appearance on stage.) do i see myself or others as fluctuating between similar extremes? am i too concerned with dichotomies? how can we be comfortable with the fact that our mothers and our sisters have sex? that our colleagues and creative collaborators may also be attractive?

improving my shit-deflector is the easier part. (though still difficult for a righteously indignant person like myself!) the harder part is allowing myself to be at once intellectual/ rational and creative/ emotional; honor both my body and my mind when there are so many forces that tell me they are mutually exclusive. i turn to Audre Lorde's essay "Uses of the Erotic as Power": (here are a few excerpts, but the whole essay gives me chills and you can find it here)

"There are many kinds of power, used and unused, acknowledged or otherwise. The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling. In order to perpetuate itself, every oppression must corrupt or distort those various sources of power within the culture of the oppressed that can provide energy for change. For women, this has meant a suppression of the erotic as a considered source of power and information within our lives.

We have been taught to suspect this resource, vilified, abused, and devalued within western society. On the one hand, the superficially erotic has been encouraged as a sign of female inferiority; on the other hand, women have been made to suffer and to feel both contemptible and suspect by virtue of its existence.

It is a short step from there to the false belief that only by the suppression of the erotic within our lives and consciousness can women be truly strong. But that strength is illusory, for it is fashioned within the context of male models of power..."

"The erotic is a measure between our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves..."

"Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. And the lack of concern for the erotic root and satisfactions of our work is felt in our disaffection from so much of what we do. For instance, how often do we truly love our work even at its most difficult?..."

"The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference.

Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy, in the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, harkening to its deepest rhythms so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, or examining an idea..."

i regularly play music with the same guy who told me about his impressions of me in the department. and in the same conversation, we spoke of the band we play in and the openness of all the musicians in it. we spoke of the musical intimacy of this group, something you hope to reach when improvising with others. i want to honor this-- the love, emotion, and desire i put into the music i truly care about, into practicing, composing, and performing it; and that i hopefully share with the musicians i play with, and the audience i play for. and i want to possess the power of sensation on my own terms; more deeply and personally than anyone else's first impression of me.