Humor and Harmony: An Interview with Girlyman

Among folk fans, quirky, Atlanta-based trio, Girlyman is as famous for their warm, funny stage patter as for their sweet harmonies and nuanced lyrics. Friends since grammar school, band mates Doris Muramatsu, and Ty Greenstein started out as a duo. After meeting solo artist Nate Borofsky, the three formed Girlyman, and since have released four albums. On tour now in support of their recent live album, “Somewhere Different Now.” Ty took time out from touring to talk about the band’s evolution.

Queerky- How long has Girlyman been together?

Ty- Almost eight years now.

Queerky- How have you developed as songwriters over that time?

Ty- Well, we’ve always been acoustic, and we’ve always done three part harmonies and we always kind of crack ourselves up during our live show. I think our songwriting has evolved just because we’re older. For myself as a songwriter, I tend to not be as obsessed with myself; I’m more interested in writing about other people and writing about the world. As a musician, I always want to branch out as much as I can.

Queerky- What’s your writing process like?

TY- I try to make at least an hour every day. I had a writing studio built in my backyard this year which is a huge thing for me. It’s been really exciting for me to just have this space to go into and to have this process that continues from day to day. If you write just every once in a while, you find the stakes are incredibly high, because if you don’t come up with something great that day you might not be able to get yourself to write again for a while. If you’re writing everyday, and one day not much happens, it doesn’t really matter because you’re going to be back in there the next day.

Queerky- Girlyman has a seemingly very personal relationship with their fans - you post personal blogs, interact on your forum. Is that a strategic career choice?

Ty- Girlyman is just us being ourselves; it’s a very real experience. We want to give people the feeling that they’re part of what we’re doing so creating that kind of presence on the website is something we make a point to do. It’s more fun for people, it creates a sense that we’re still around and we can’t wait to see you again. It’s just like keeping in touch with our family. We’re an independent band; we’re on our own record label, so we rely on the energy sustaining itself. It’s something we can’t do by ourselves, there has to be some sort of continuous growing excitement in order for us to keep doing what we’re doing.

Queerky-You started out on Indigo Girl, Amy Ray’s indie record label, Damon records, but recently went truly independent, putting records out on your own. What prompted the change?

Ty- We were becoming more interested in releasing independently, at the same time, Daemon records was reconfiguring; Amy wanted to take time and figure out what to do next, plus our contract was up anyway. At first we thought, “Gosh, how do you do this without a label?” But it’s making more and more sense for indie artists to release their own CDs. We were excited about using the internet, making it the kind of grass roots operation we were already really familiar with.

Queerky-When can we expect another studio album?

Ty- We’ll probably be doing pre-orders in spring and a wider release later on, definitely this year.

Queerky-You’ve toured with a lot of great musicians. Any favorites?

Ty- Opening for the Indigo Girls was huge for us. We grew up listening to them, so it was incredible for us personally, but also their fans were just ready for our vocal harmonies and our lyrics, they just really got it. It was exciting for us play for these relatively huge audiences and have them really be enthusiastic.

Queerky- Girlyman plays on (fellow folk singer) Chris Pureka’s new album. What was touring with Chris like?

Ty- She’s the sweetest person in the world, really funny, and also a phenomenal musician. We did a little bit of collaboration and it was just a really good fit. It always helps when you can watch the other musician and have it fire you up for your own performance.

Queerky-What interview question are you so bored with you’d rather sleep with Sarah Palin than ever answer again? Don’t spare my feelings; even if I asked it, I still want to know!

Ty-(Laughs) You totally didn’t ask it. It’s “How did you get the name Girlyman?” I don’t know if I’d sleep with Sarah Palin, but I’d definitely rather not answer that question again.

For more information including tour dates and to read their blog, check out http://www.girlyman.com

Written by Sarah Terez Rosenblum

A freelance writer with an MFA in Creative Writing, Sarah Terez Rosenblum is at work on her first novel. When not writing, she supports herself as a Starbucks barista, figure model, Spinning instructor and college teacher. Inevitably one day she will find herself naked at Starbucks or trying to brew espresso using a stationary bicycle. She’s kind of looking forward to it actually.

Indigo Girl Gone Solo: Amy Ray and the Art of Letting Go

“My wife and I missed your show last night,” says a nondescript man. He’s first in line to greet Indigo Girl, Amy Ray at a Chicago Border’s in-store signing. “Our son got sick.”

Another man, not a day under sixty, carefully unloads a stack of Ray-related memorabilia, including a vinyl copy of her newest solo album. He folds his hands behind his back, and smiles as she signs each one.

In search of a landline on which to conduct our interview, I ask a friend’s boss if I can borrow a cubicle. “I can’t believe Amy Ray is gonna call here,” my friend’s boss, straight and suburban, squeals, “She’s like a real celebrity!”

Clearly, members of the mainstream can pick Ray out of a lineup; even sing a few bars of one of her songs, or at least one written by the other Indigo Girl, Emily Saliers - hers tend to get more radio play. But Ray is the Indigo Girl gone solo, the one hauling her own gear, staging a packed punk-tinged show at Chicago’s small concert venue, The Metro, pushing the envelope of queer visibility by showing the world (or at least those who are savvy enough to pay attention) another side of a forty-four year old lesbian singer/songwriter, the side that fucking rocks.

When Ray calls from outside Chapel Hill, she’s just taken a turn driving her tour van, byproduct of a stripped down tour. She’s headed out the other side of a Midwest stint that began with a broken down van and a missed Iowa gig. Back in Madison Wisconsin, she offered to make dinner for any audience member who could lend her a truck. “I make a killer sweet potato enchilada,” she said. Now she seems in good spirits, anticipating a break followed by a West Coast run, “Birmingham, Tallahassee, maybe a Mississippi show,” she says, “then out through Texas, the Southwest and up to the West Coast.” January 15th through February 7th if you’re wondering.

Not wanting to try Ray’s patience, I skip the lame background questions: “How did you come up with the name ‘Indigo Girls,’” (a serendipitous pass through the dictionary) and “Have you and Emily ever had sex?” (Absolutely not). Instead, I plunge right in.

Queerky: Didn’t It Feel Kinder is your third solo album. After making your career as half of a duo, what surprised you most about suddenly being a solo artist?

Amy Ray: When I started I thought [solo work] was just gonna be something I did a couple of times to experiment, get a few things out of my system. Then I realized it was as important to me as what I do with Indigo Girls. That was a surprise for me.

Q: Tell me about your writing process.

AR: I have a lyric journal, and when I’m in writing mode, which is probably about seventy-five percent of the year, I write maybe four or five days a week anywhere from two to five hours a day. I don’t censure myself at all; it doesn’t have to be quality, its just getting my ideas out. Then I comb through for nuggets of songs and I tape myself playing and singing along to different parts. The first part of the process when I read back through, I’m a little surprised at what comes out sometimes, but I step back from it and try to be really objective, so it doesn’t scare me like it used to. (laughs)

Q: As a writer I tend to reveal without editing and then be surprised by how vulnerable I’ve made myself. Can you relate to that experience at all?

AR: Well, when I sing live, it becomes a more vulnerable experience. But I just have to let go and be in the moment. I can’t be responsible for what my vulnerability is at that point.

Q: How has your relationship to songwriting as a discipline changed over your career? Did you always write every day?

AR: Right now on tour I’m not doing that. We just finished an Indigo Girls record so I’m not writing as much as I typically do. I’m just sort of on break to let things in. But no, I didn’t start out writing like that at all. I was really undisciplined. I believed in this idea that if the muse hits you, you write. I didn’t edit enough and I didn’t really work hard enough. Probably eight years ago, when I started making solo records, I started reading a lot about writing and talking to different songwriters and I realized I needed to create a routine around it and I did.

Q: Did that change your work?

AR: Melodically I still struggle sometimes, but I noticed that my songs got better, the images got a little tighter, I got more prolific. I feel like anytime you work on something as a discipline it improves. There’s no doubt about it.

Q: In terms of discipline, it seems like your vocal range has developed in recent years as well. Was that something you consciously cultivated?

AR: Earlier on, I just took my voice as the natural quality of what it was and didn’t work on it. I definitely didn’t take good care of it. I drank and smoked a lot and that’s not good for your voice. That stopped about twelve years ago. Probably five or six years ago, I started working with this DVD for heavy metal singers called “The Zen of Screaming.” I was listening to vocalists like Brandi Carlisle and Jeff Buckley who had a certain way they would break into their head voice. I started working on that, doing specific things around building my range. I talk to other vocalists and call this vocal teacher and ask her questions. It’s kind of nerdy; I definitely work on it a lot because I want to be able to go between screaming a punk rock song with melody within the screaming, to singing in a very strong but vulnerable kind of head voice. I want to be able to do both things because I’m writing songs that, to me, have both voices in them, and if I can’t do that it’s frustrating to me.

Q: You talk about how using your head voice goes along with the progression of your songwriting and all the work you do with gender.

AR: Yeah, when I wrote She’s Got to Be, I wrote it in that higher range cause I was trying to reflect a sort of quote unquote feminine part of myself by singing in that register.

Q: Speaking of gender, I have a theory that most lesbians-femmes included– have a secret male alter ego. If you were a man (and I’m not saying you aren’t) how do you imagine you’d look? What would your name be?

AR: Oh…what would my name be? Well, people call me Amos, so that’s probably my alter-ego name. I’d probably look about the same to be honest.

Q: Did you see how quickly you came up with that?

AR: Yeah I think because I’m so male-identified in so many ways it’s not a hard one for me (laughs).

Q: We’ve talked a bit about what it’s like to put your songs out and sort of let go of them. You seem really at peace with the whole process. Some performers, Kurt Cobain and Ani Difranco both come to mind, famously object to fans misinterpreting their songs. You use metaphor and history and personal experience to write really multidimensional songs, so I’m guessing you get a lot of fans flattening your meaning, maybe going for the obvious interpretation. What are your feelings about that?

AR: I think when Ani comments on that or when Kurt did, I think they had such frenetic fans who had a propriety relationship to their lyrics [which] probably made them feel like they shouldn’t have to be accountable for this or that. I don’t have that same intense experience. I really believe in letting the song go. I’m fully aware that people are going to have their own meanings for it. Obviously, it would upset me if people thought I was saying something inflammatory or negative or mean when I didn’t mean that, but as far as interpretations of metaphors, or taking the song and making their own meaning, or even reading into my life in a way that’s not accurate, it doesn’t matter to me actually. I don’t think about myself to that extent, you know what I mean?

Q: That probably makes it a lot easier for you.

AR: Yeah, I’ll sit and read a Louise Erdrich book, and in my mind I’m coming up with all these ways that it connects to her real life, and I’m sure none of them are true. I used to do that all the time with Bernie Taupin’s lyrics with Elton John. I just thought I had him figured out lyrically. It’s just what people do.

Q: What’s more likely to make you cry, books, movies or songs?

AR: Hmmm. Songs.

Q: And now we come to the meat of the interview, some very serious questions coming up. The L Word, positive cultural step forward or exploitative poorly-written drivel?

AR: (laughs)

Q: Or maybe both.

AR: (Still laughing) I might have to take the fifth on that. I think it’s both.

Q: Starbucks drink of choice?

AR: Soy Chai.

Q: Favorite season?

AR: Spring.

Q: Favorite time of day?

AR: Twilight.

Q: Name four activities you cannot live without. By activities I mean, like working out-

AR: Working out…being in the woods… I can’t live without… eating junk food and I can live without sex… for a while but not for more than a couple of years.

Q: Ok, well should I count that one or not?

AR: Um, let’s count that one.

Q: How many animals do you own right now?

AR: I have… five dogs and seven cats.

Q: How many is too many?

AR: I could probably fit one more dog and one more cat and then I’m at my limit.

Q: What’s your favorite breed of dog (although I’m assuming you go more for the rescues and the mutts)?

AR: Yeah, mutts are my favorite breed. I like around a forty-five to fifty pound dog.

Q: Could you have a relationship with someone with opposing political views?

AR: Not a love relationship, no.

Q: Speaking of politics, a lot of queer people describe having a circumscribed period of pure joy when Obama was elected, followed by deep disappointment, almost an estrangement, after Prop 8 passed. What was your experience?

AR: I was so overwhelmed that Obama won with such an incredible majority that for me, it didn’t dim that much, because I expect that this marriage thing is gonna be pretty slow moving. Even Obama can’t stand up and say he’s for gay marriage. The marriage issue is important to me as a human rights issue but there are so many other queer community issues that are important to me. I didn’t have high expectations, is a simple way to put it, so it didn’t blow my mind, but I think it’s important that people are speaking out about it. I think that’s great.

Q: I have a potentially dicey question for you. In mainstream culture, references to Indigo Girls, more often than not, appear as jokes. Like, Glamour magazine might write, “you’ve just been dumped, and you’re at home listening to Indigo Girls and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s,” or I know I’ve read belittling references in Maxim for example. Why do you think Indigo Girls end up a cultural punch line?

AR: Yeah, people say “I’m a closet Indigo Girls fan.” It’s as if women are only allowed this very narrow access to music and success, and when they do have it there’s still a sense of embarrassment about recognizing it or validating it. It’s about sexism, and sort of a derogatory idea of what it means when women express themselves. When you add homophobia on top of it, and then a band that’s been together twenty something years; when you have such an attachment to such specifics, you’re gay, you’re a woman, you don’t have an image like Madonna, you put all that together, and you have a very easy target. There’s a certain almost derogatory iconic status that comes along with that. In some ways you have to expect that if you’re gonna be outspoken and so politicized, so iconically who you are, you’re gonna get cultural references that aren’t always positive, and humor that’s the lowest common denominator. Sometimes it’s clever. Sometimes it’s subversive and even flattering in its cultural way. The only thing that bothers me about it sometimes is the reflection it has on society: It means we haven’t moved that far. The gatekeepers are still the patriarchy. They still think of rock or folk or country as sort of a man’s game as far as who can lay claim to some kind of intellectual free rights. It doesn’t ruin my day or anything. It just kind of is what it is.

Q: Again, you seem to have a really healthy attitude about things that are out of your control.

AR. I used to have a much worse temper and it didn’t do me much good.

Q: One more question for you. I think kids have really specific ideas about their adult lives. Like, I always thought I’d grow up to be blond. What sort of vision did you have for your life when you were say ten? How is the life you live the same or different?

AR: When I was ten I pretty much thought I was a guy, so that was shocking when it didn’t happen. But you know I’ve been able to come full circle on that. I really wanted to be a musician so I sort of pictured myself living in a rural area and playing music and that’s what I do. I got really lucky.
Except that she didn’t. No way is Ray’s success luck-based. Sure, Indigo Girls gained visibility in the Tracy Chapman-fueled half second during which folk music was marginally cool, but Ray’s continual presence on the music scene, her growth as an artist, the evolution of her songs and voice, none are accidental. Her success is a direct consequence of her ability to both channel her will-power and sustain an objective distance. In discussing the breadth of her singing range Ray says humbly, “I’m totally not there yet,” meaning she hasn’t fully attained the vocal goals she’s set for herself. However, Ray is striking in that while she has her sights set on further landmarks on her path toward self-actualization, she’s adept at harnessing her ambition, has perfected the art of letting go; she’s already farther along then most will ever be.

For tour dates, videos, sound clips and photos (including one of Amy in a prom dress) please visit her website at http://www.amy-ray.com/.

Written by Sarah Terez Rosenblum

A freelance writer with an MFA in Creative Writing, Sarah Terez Rosenblum is at work on her first novel. When not writing, she supports herself as a Starbucks barista, figure model, Spinning instructor and college teacher. Inevitably one day she will find herself naked at Starbucks or trying to brew espresso using astationary bicycle. She’s kind of looking forward to it actually.

‘Where’s the anger, the feeling, the fire?’

Depending on who you are and where you come from, the term “lesbian music” likely conjures up one of two images.

The first, a peaceful roomful of queer women with acoustic guitars singing about love, collective empowerment and community.

For others, the idea of lesbian music might bring to mind the image of womyn/wimmin/women with mullet haircuts and plaid jackets singing outdated folk songs on their acoustic guitars, holding each other tight while crying and singing about wombs and waterfalls.

One thing is for certain: lesbian music has - since its initial heyday in the ’70s - gained its place in history as groundbreaking, magical and inspirational to many.

Today, queer women generally don’t have much more than a historically fuzzy perspective on that period, much less a sense of the depth and breadth of its significance. Yet many of the reasons that contemporary musicians are free to be out and proud are because of those lesbian foot soldiers of yesteryear.

Young queer musicians and music industry folks often deem landmark artists, ranging from Cris Williamson and Ferron (who broke ground in the ’70s) to the Indigo Girls and Melissa Etheridge in the acoustic revival of the ’90s, as “too out” or “too gay” - in spite of their accomplishments.

For many 20-something recording artists, the fight for freedom appears to be over, and as a result, the need to queer-identify in one’s lyrics or to the press seems to them to be a step back - a blinkered approach to their craft that doesn’t begin to describe who they are at their core.

Some see this inconsequentiality of orientation as an indication that equality has been achieved.

However, by not gathering our queer community together through music, and not identifying and singing about it, are we losing the unique and supportive lesbian music community that united and made the scene special?

Moreover, is the lack of queer lyrics and politics in music going to be detrimental to the next generation who can’t find songs and role models willing to talk about what it is like to be queer?

Cris Williamson remembers a time when women’s music and community were virtually synonymous.

Williamson - a pioneer in that scene in the ’70s and still touring actively today - was considered to be at the epicenter with her CD The Changer and the Changed seen as one of the main soundtracks to that period of time.

En route to a gig in New Orleans, Williamson’s voice on the line softens as she remembers that era.

“Music was the centre of the circle, it was the hub around which everything revolved… bookstores, hotlines… at the center of it were these concerts that they called ‘women’s music’ and it was a way to bring people together, a way to create a community where they had none.

“Everybody had been marginalized and horrified, but when we gathered together, it was the closest we could get to church. Nobody had any money but whatever there was we shared. Now, we look back and say, ‘Wow, what a thing that was!’”

Pat Hogan, concert producer and founder of Sounds & Furies Productions, also recalls those days as being filled with power and possibility.

“It was about giving voice to and about women, specifically lesbians. There was nothing like it before. Olivia Records was one of the first - if not the first - record company that was owned, operated and run by women - music that mainstream record companies wouldn’t even touch,” Hogan recollects. “It was amazing and radical. The community then was so strong!

“In a way, I think there is a longing for that. When we listen to younger women talk, it is too bad they don’t have the herstory, because they’ve missed out on what brought them to where they are today,” Hogan laments. “It is because of lesbians who were out there as pioneers that a lot of women have the opportunities that they do, whether or not they know it.”

Vancouver singer/songwriter Kate Reid definitely echoes this sentiment and admits she’s deeply concerned that her fellow queer musicians are being apolitical. She worries about the effect on future generations.

“The thing that I see not happening right now is political stuff in the music women are making. People are saying, ‘We don’t need that, we’ve got our equal rights’ - which is bullshit. I think that there is a false belief that queer women have it made, that it is not necessary anymore, the fight is done,” Reid contends.

“I go to shows as much as I can and I wonder, ‘Where’s the beef? Where’s the substance of lyrics? Where’s the anger, the feeling, the fire?’”

Williamson agrees.

“Women still aren’t safe in the world, so when the young people coming up say they’re tired of it, they are tired of the issues that still are with us, of rape and misogyny and homophobia - those things haven’t changed so much as they’ve been softened, in that the language is less present in the culture,” Williamson suggests.

“There are still women that we don’t know who are being killed because they are gay, and songwriters still need to tell those stories. In the global reach it is really important to talk about it. The feminist revolution is not done as long as some women are dying somewhere - or just being kept from thinking freely.”

Lisa Howell, aka DJ De Lux, is the event coordinator at Lick, a Vancouver nightclub for women. She sees not only political apathy, but the future fallout arising from it.

“From what I see as a DJ at Lick, the younger crowd definitely reacts the most to hip-hop and Top 40; it is really more about the rhythm and the beats, not so much the lyrics,” Howell observes.

“I think that is a sign of the times. This hurts not just queers but everybody. When we don’t have substance to what we are doing, we’re going to start to feel empty,” she argues.

“There’s a lot of younger kids coming up into the scene. Where’s their support going to be? Where will the Indigo Girls of this time going to be when they need that? Where’s the leadership and representation when all the queers just see everybody getting drunk and partying and there’s no substance anymore?”

Across the board, it seems more young queer musicians than ever are distancing themselves from their orientation. In some cases, it’s a conscious decision to play down the queer sexuality in their music.

The reasoning behind it? The word “pigeonholed” almost invariably comes up.

“It was quite a conscious decision from the get-go of me playing music. I didn’t want to be judged as a person based on my sexuality. I wanted to be a musician, not a lesbian musician,” explains Lise Oakley, lead singer of the Vancouver group The Wintermitts.

“I was a big fan of Tegan and Sara but there was a whole gay stigma that stuck to them even when they started their career,” Lise notes. “As a younger lesbian I really looked up to them, but I decided that I really didn’t want to be seen as ‘the lesbian singer/songwriter.’

“We want everyone to listen to our music, but I have always felt that you get pigeonholed if you are considered a lesbian band, queer band or queer-heavy band.”

Sena Hussain, lead singer for Vancouver punk rock group Secret Trial Five, has also noted an increasing trend among contemporary artists to avoid what they see as the bounds of sexuality in the interest of attracting a wider listenership.

“People have been moving away from that [sexuality] label because they want to be taken seriously by all types of audiences. The topics that we cover are not queer; they are in regards to [being] Muslim. I would like to write more for a general audience and then get more specific with it. But I definitely see the potential for it down the road.”

Olympia, Washington-based performer Melanie Free - better known by her band name Tender Forever - feels the gay press shoulders some of the responsibility for focusing more on queer artists’ sexuality than their music.

“I truly hate segregation of all kinds. Who wants to be in a box? I don’t,” Free says emphatically, adding “I’ve always answered all the interviews that I got the chance to be offered. Always. But I found myself more upset with the LGBT press than by the non-gay press.

“Eventually, the interviews always end up to be related to my private life. It’s kind of cheap thinking that I would have to talk about my sexual orientation more than what I do,” Free complains. “It’s like assuming that my first thought in the morning is, ‘I’m gay’ instead of, ‘I can’t wait to work on that new cover song!’

“Being queer is definitely not on my mind and I don’t want it to be ’cause it would give a good purpose to people to make it something different enough to be put apart.”

Yet a number of musicians acknowledge that the lack of present-day queer musical role models could have adverse consequences. Shay Faded, a 24-year-old Vancouver hip-hop emcee says she never wanted to be labeled “Shay the gay rapper.” Still, she admits that it could be more challenging for younger artists if there are few, if any, self-professed queer acts from which to draw inspiration.

“When I was a teenager, lesbian folk music was pretty out there, nothing was being hidden at all,” Faded recalls, adding “I think now it is more about the music than anything.”

She acknowledges that by not self-promoting her queer side, she may be losing a potentially devoted audience.

“There’s a huge gay audience that I have yet to reach out to and I know it is huge! I’ve seen Brigee K emcee at Lick and there’s 250 people running up to her asking her for her music. I would like to do that. As for writing queer songs, though, I don’t see myself doing that.”

Lukas Silveira - lead singer of the major-label band The Cliks - has made his own peace with mixing the personal and political. As a trangendered man whose band has done mainstream gigs (currently touring with rockers The Cult) while simultaneously participating in the True Colors human rights tour, Silveira is disturbed by what he sees as a trend among queers to fully assimilate at the expense of potential future collective empowerment.

“Gays and lesbians - the more conservative side - want to be seen as ‘normal’ people. They want normalcy in living, working, dating, having children. A lot of people don’t want to be associated with queerness which is where the community falls out from under us,” Silveira observes.

“Back in the day you had the Indigo Girls, Ani DiFranco, Melissa Etheridge, people who brought women together, communities of people who were ready to say, ‘This is something that represents us, this is something that we identify with.’ Now, when you look around and see lesbian artists, they aren’t really coming out and saying, ‘We’re lesbian.’ They just wanna sing, they just wanna play, they just wanna do what they do. Their sexuality is no longer up front.

“In one way, I can totally understand,” Silveira continues. “I’m transgendered, but that is not what I am in the music industry. There, I’m a musician. But I see people trying to remove that ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing because they think that in their minds they can be more successful.

“Personally, I’m very comfortable with what I do. I know that talking about it makes a difference,” he notes. “It is so powerful to come off the stage, go to the merch table and get a 15-year-old genderqueer kid come up to me with his mom and say, ‘I drove for three hours to see you. I’m the only transgendered kid that I know and I’ve come to let you know that because of you, I feel normal.’ Are you kidding me? Talk about healing! That to me is so worth what I do.”

The Wintermitts’ Oakley says she has witnessed the queer community getting smaller as a whole, but believes that it is happening because GLBT musicians are integrating into the community at large.

“I can’t think of a band in Vancouver alone that is fully queer; you’ll have bands where half the band will be queer, half the band’s not. That is community to me, because you are integrating. “For me, being in a band with two straight boys, they are learning a lot about queer community and they are supporting it as well.” Lick manager Jessy Leak sees positives and negatives regarding that trend.

“I feel like the scene is getting smaller and smaller because there is less to fight for,” says Leak. “The queer youth that I see on a regular basis aren’t concerned about a sense of community because it is already there for them. It is just handed to them on a silver plate.

“Our community is branching out and meshing with different worlds,” she explains. I don’t know if it is a good or bad thing. I think it is a bit of both because we don’t have that unity as a community but we are having our individuality.”

Vancouver-based jazz musician Erin Ward, programmer for the Sista’Hood Celebration’s Her Jazz Noise Collective event, is excited that Sista’ Hood - an annual musical gathering that celebrates women - exists. But she wonders why that same sense of collective support doesn’t seem to happen specifically within the GLBT music populace.

“I wish there was more community in the queer scene. It seems like it is not trendy to be political and that is sad.”

As for the future of the queer music community, 61-year-old matriarch Williamson says while she’s concerned about the present day, she has confidence in the lesbian music scenes to come.

“If you studied art history, you wouldn’t be surprised by any of this denial of the previous shape of things. A lot of young artists don’t have a proper sense of history, but because it is a pendulum swing, on its way back it picks up almost all the ones that we lost,” Williamson asserts.

“It skips a generation but the next one gets it. I’m finding that it is the 12 and 13-year-old feminists who are fierce, who say, ‘I wish I lived in the ’70s, that sounded so cool!’

“I’m so glad I’ve lived to hear this instead of hearing, ‘We’re not feminists’ or ‘Who are you old grandmas?’

“Ultimately,” Williamson concludes, “the personal is political. You’ve got to connect it. It has to be in the music, in the language, in the presentation. If we isolate people further by not making community, then I think that is anti-art. If people don’t want to make community, then they won’t. But the young people after them will be the ones sure as shootin’ that will make community. I have faith in the pendulum.”

Written by Denise Sheppard

Denise Sheppard (scribe at shaw dot ca) is a self-employed journalist/editor who likes long walks, candlelit dinners and writing for U.S and Canadian national mags and websites. Her fave topics are human rights-related pieces and entertainment journalism.

Girls Rock!

Five days, over one hundred teenage girls, one goal: be yourself. Not the self your parents hope you’ll be. Not the self your siblings and friends bully you into being. Not the self who mimics those girls you publicly hate but secretly admire because everyone looks at them. Be the real you - the you that ROCKS. This goal is the driving force behind the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls and the basis of the new documentary, Girls Rock!

The Riot Grrl movement in the early 1990s tapped into the raw musical talent and intense energy so many women had been taught to hide and deny. But with every cultural movement comes backlash. For the Riot Grrl movement, it came in the form of vacuous pop music icons with glossy lips, bare midriffs and pigtails, dancing suggestively while singing along to pre-recorded voice tracks. Clearly, it’s time to re-empower young women.

Enter the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls. Founded by Misty McElroy, the camp’s main goal is to “build girls’ self-esteem through music creation and performance.” What started as a fledgling program at Portland State University in the summer of 2001 has become a veritable revolution with new camps popping up from the Bay Area to Britain.

The new documentary, Girls Rock!, details the experiences of four of the camp’s participants as they form bands, write songs, and perform for 750 fans - all in the span of 5 days. These girls were chosen for the camp and the documentary not because they worship Le Tigre or can play the guitar; they were chosen because they are the examples of what life is like for many young women in America today.

Palace, 7, has more worries than can fit into her tiny frame. Her parents are divorced and her baby brother has Down’s syndrome. She frequently misses school due to “tummy aches” brought on by severe anxiety. At rock camp, Palace sings. Well, she screeches.

Laura, 15, is a Korean adoptee. She is one of the only girls in her small Oklahoma town who listens to death metal. She is outgoing, well spoken and funny, but doesn’t push the line for fear of offending someone or standing out. At rock camp, Laura writes and sings her own lyrics.

The film flows between interviews with the featured girls’ parents, camp staff, and the girls themselves to clips of all participants immersed in the day-to-day activities of rock camp. It is peppered with sections of inventive animation that serve as the backdrop for revealing statistics about teen girls and the media, such as “Twice as many boys as girls say their talents are what they like most about themselves. Girls are twice as likely to say a body part is their best feature” and “The number one wish of teen girls is to lose weight.”

A few weeks ago, I was able to speak with Arne Johnson and Shane King, the co-directors of Girls Rock!. Arne and Shane have been collaborating on film projects since the 7th grade when they got their hands on a Super 8mm. At a concert, they learned of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp’s existence through Carrie Brownstein of Sleater Kinney. “She was raving about the camp and we knew there was something there,” commented Shane. He remembered initially thinking that, because of the camp’s affiliation with big name grrl rock groups like Sleater Kinney and The Gossip, the camp would be some sort of “rocket ship to stardom” for aspiring girls. But what they found was that this program is “much more of a life raft” for girls who need to find and trust their own voice.

Initially, Shane and Arne were unsure that they, as men, were the right people to make this documentary. “We definitely questioned it,” acknowledged Shane, “but what it came down to was that we really weren’t taking anything for granted. We let the girls tell their whole story.” Arne echoed this sentiment and added that, “the girls became our tour guides. We were just two guys having our eyes opened by these girls.”

What the girls reveal is inspiring, humorous and sometimes crushing. But even more important than what is exposed is what people do with the information given. When I asked Arne and Shane what positive reactions they hoped this documentary would incite, they were very candid about their expectations. “The people who create the media are adults and we are the ones who need to fix it,” said Arne. “We need to stop consuming and making these things that are sending incorrect messages to kids.” As far as the younger audience is concerned, Arne stated, “The girls talk about the importance of positive role models. What we really need is for these girls who have found their voice to become these role models for other girls.” And as for Shane, well he just wants to see a rock ‘n’ roll camp for girls in every city in America.

These are high hopes for a documentary, but the girls featured are nothing short of awe-inspiring. Laura calmly states at the beginning of the film, “I just accept that I hate myself and I don’t really think about it.” But with a new group of friends, the freedom to sing the words that she wrote, and people who actually encourage her to dance during the performance, Laura completely transforms into an amazingly confident person. She smiles and says to the camera, “I’ve been waiting so long to finally admit to myself that I’m amazing. Everyone is beautiful in their own way and they get even better when they decide to be powerful and they decide to rock.”

So take your friends and all the kids you can legally wrangle into your car and check out the premiere of this fantastic new documentary that will have you cheering for these mini-rockers and asking where this camp was when you were a kid.

Girls Rock! opens in select cities (including Portland, Chicago and Los Angeles) on March 7! For information on tickets and opening weekend events, please visit the Girl’s Rock! website.

View the movie trailer, plus additional videos, and listen to music created by the camp participants on the Girls Rock! Myspace page!

For more information on the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls, including how you can get involved, visit their official website.

Written by Maggie Weller

An Interview with Beth Arentsen

New York singer/songwriter Beth Arentsen is the girl next door, that is if you live in an art school dorm. With the kooky flair for the dramatic and piano prowess of Tori Amos along with the thoughtful lyrics and business acumen of Ani DiFranco, Arentsen has moved confidently from her work as the lead singer in the jazz/funk/electronica band P-1 to her recent, more personal solo CD, Sap. Arentsen passed through Chicago in late July, alighting at the upscale coffeehouse Uncommon Ground where she took a few minutes to chat with me as the cafe clattered and murmured around us.

Queerky.com - I understand you attended Tisch School of the Arts in New York. That’s a unique school.

Beth Arentsen - Yeah, actually before I went to Tisch I was studying classical piano at Rutgers and I got really burnt out. I knew my chops were never great enough to be a classical pianist so I took a year off. I was singing with this woman named Liz Swados and she said, “You know what, I really think you should try this experimental theatre program at Tisch. It would incorporate your writing skills and singing.”

Q:- So were you interested in theatre?

BA - In my early twenties I was writing self-scripted theatre pieces about women. I would perform these pieces in character and then I would play on piano the song that represented the piece, like monologues. I love connecting with the audience through these more storytelling pieces. I really explored (acting) as much as possible. It was a natural progression where I went from acting and singing separately and then I thought, “Hey I can do it all at once.”

Q: - I read on your Myspace page that you’ve played to standing room only crowds at New York clubs like The Living Room. Does New York feel like home to you performance-wise?

BA - I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, like where is home? Home for me is a few places. It’s definitely the East Village of New York but it’s also in New Jersey ’cause that’s where I grew up so I’m really drawn to the country and the ocean. And I spent most of my early life on a boat. My parents are divorced; growing up on a boat really influenced my life, so being on an island is really great because I always have the sea around me. I also love Chicago. I’ve been performing here with my other band P-1 for four years and I love this city because it’s so acoustic — it’s like a deep breath. There’s a lot more soul here right now than there is in Manhattan. (The New York scene) is a very commercialized, pay-to-play type of thing, not a lot of serious art in my opinion. It’s a touring town, whereas in Chicago wherever you are, at any club, there’s something interesting going on. Not that I look down on New York, but a lot of New Yorkers feel like, “Oh God, this is it. I can never leave. I’m here for life.” I bought an old house in New Jersey and I’m living there part time and people are like, “Are you nuts? You’re gonna change,” but I feel so inspired by nature out there and relaxed, so I’m actually writing more.

Q: - Speaking of writing, what’s your process like? Is there a certain time of day you write best?

BA - I’m a morning person. The first thing I’ll do is go downstairs and I’ll sit at the piano and I’ll just ask myself, “Are you gonna say anything today? Is anything gonna be there?” I usually write the songs that speak the most to me in like two minutes. I always write the music first and then I trust that something is there to be said. It just happens really fast again like with that morning coffee. I’ll be tinkering at the piano and then it’s like, “Wow! What a great idea.” But if I have nothing to say I’m not gonna push it. I don’t really put that much pressure on myself anymore. I might go to work or go to the beach. I sort of need to have a whole day, like start a little in the morning and come back at night. It’s like studying, you’re like, “Wow I really retained this and it’s even better and I can go forward here.” So, I’m good in the morning and at night but I’m very uncreative during the day.

Q: - You mentioned teaching. I assume that means you have a day job.

BA - I actually went back to work at NYU as the events coordinator for a couple of years, working with young artists. Then I felt like it was time to work full time on promoting my album and touring, but I still teach at a not-for-profit in Harlem. I created a music program for kids.

Q: - Back to your writing. As a writer, do you feel like you return to certain themes?

BA - Always nautical themes, again the ocean is so calming for me, so I think all of my songs about the ocean are very nostalgic, they bring me back to a place. I write about women. Women really interest me — characters and history. I write about this one woman Penelope who was a Dutch settler who moved to New Jersey and she was attacked by Native Americans who didn’t want any more settlers, and she was sliced in half, and legend has it that she pulled herself into a tree and healed and went on to create generations of families on the Jersey shore. Supposedly they can trace back that it was her descendants who developed my town. In the part of New Jersey I’m from, every street is named after these Native Americans, and you can find little arrow heads on the ground, there’s a lot of culture, but you’re not spoon-fed, you have to go out and find it and then you realize, wow, I’m on sacred ground here. I’m really intrigued by the cultures of the New York/New Jersey area and that’s in a lot of my writing too.

Q: - When you look back at your old songs do you feel embarrassed or do you feel like they hold up?

BA - A lot of old songs do fall out of favor. I did a demo when I was 25 but I only put one of those songs on Sap. But actually I’m rewriting a song that I wrote when I was really young, like 15. I found all of these lyrics sheets I used to write. A lot of artists will tell you that they just write music, play stuff, improvise, and that years later they incorporate all of that into new songs, so that’s sort of what I’m doing right now.

Q: - You have a pretty strong gay following. Was that audience base something you consciously pursued?

BA - Good question. I don’t think it was ever a conscious choice, choosing my fan base. Who comes to your first shows when you’re starting out - your friends, and they bring friends, and before you know it you’re getting invites to play everywhere and that’s basically it. I never purposely seek out anything. I truly believe that you surround yourself with similar folk who share your ideas and passions.

Q: - Changing the subject, I wondered how you think being a woman has affected your experience as a musician.

BA - You know it’s funny, I feel like sometimes when I’m singing backup in other bands or lead vocals for P-1, people don’t trust that I may have written the songs, and in the business I’ve had a lot of experience with guys who are wining and dining me and they just want to string me along, but you know in the first ten seconds. When I was younger I didn’t know, but at this point I’ve had enough experience to know when someone’s serious or when it’s bullshit. You can get abused if you’re vulnerable in this industry. I’m sure it happens to guys too, but there’s something about being a young female in this industry that they just wanna rip you apart. This business you know, it’s all about marketing and again people are like, “Women and money? No way!”

Q: - Is that really still the case?

BA - Yeah I think so. I think people are still like, “You need a good manager. A guy, an old guy…” But women, we can get a lot done just going out there and using our sass and charm and just, you know, saying, this is what I want to offer the world.

Q: - Other than being charming and sassy, do you have a specific business vision?

BA - Right now I’m on my own label but I’m hoping to secure distribution. I’m on iTunes and CD Baby. I’m looking to be in stores but I’m not too concerned with getting signed. I’m most concerned about developing my fan base out of New York, out of little regional pockets, and playing more retail stores, more store fronts, more indie cafes. If someone wants to sign me, if I’m lucky enough to have a label that will really support me and if I get to work with really creative fabulous people, that’d be great, but I’m going to be choosy.

Q: - You seem really goal-oriented and centered, like you really know your way around the industry. Has it always been that way?

BA - (Laughs) I was rolling around at the piano and in theatre when I was 21. I was like Karen Finley in mud and feathers, and I remember when I worked at Universal Pictures in the publicity department, one of the head publicists really liked me. I was 19, and she came to my show, and she brought a really important reviewer for the New York Times, and he wrote a synopsis of my one-woman show and he wrote, “I don’t know what I just watched, but I know Beth Arentsen has a lot of potential.” And at the time, I cried convulsively like, “Oh my God, he doesn’t understand my art!” But at the end of the day, someone saw in me potential. It’s character building. If I’d gotten signed to a major label at 19, God knows where I’d be. I had nothing to say back then, I mean I did, but I didn’t know how to say it. Now it’s like not only do I know what I want to say but I’m able to arrange and play my songs — performing is so different from just writing. Not every writer is a performer, and I’m in a really good place right now. I’m very confident, and even when I’m totally insecure and freaked out and nervous, I just know that I have a really good support system, and it’s just music. It’s not brain surgery.

For more information on Beth Arentsen, including tour dates, song downloads and her latest video for the single, Sap, please visit her homepage or her Myspace page.

Written by Sarah Terez Rosenblum

Sarah Terez Rosenblum spent the last four years of her life in Los Angeles and plans to return even though she hated it. She will be thirty in two years. Thank God she’ll have received her MFA in Creative Writing by then. That way, even though she’ll still be lacking any real idea of what she wants to do with her life, at least she’ll be massively in debt. You can contact her at zeret18@gmail.com or visit her at myspace.com/raininariver. You can also buy her a pony. She’s always wanted one.

Photo courtesy of Patty V Michels.

An Interview with Chris Pureka

Back in December, I did time at a feminist bookstore. Our music stock was limited, a little Ani DiFranco here, a little Holly Near there, however store policy dictated that we could only spin CDs from the artists we sold. As the holiday season slowly sputtered to a stop, our staff, exhausted and cranky from long hours, irate customers, and the constant pressure of selling enough product to keep the store on its feet for another year, could only agree on one thing: if we had to listen to the same artist all day, it had to be Chris Pureka. The New England native’s vocals, both stark and soothing, were at once a backdrop and a focal point for our chaotic shifts; they simultaneously calmed us and intrigued our customers. Needless to say, Dryland, Chris Pureka’s latest release, was one of our top sellers.

While Driving North, released in 2004 is lovely; ruminative and haunting, Dryland, which hit stores in 2006, is evidence of Chris’s impressive artistic trajectory. As a writer, Chris travels ever inward. She manages to write from an internal place of intense vulnerability and specificity without ever excluding her audience. Instead, the personal nature of her music and the exactitude of her vision radiate out like spokes on an emotional wheel, providing multiple points of contact for her fans’ feelings and experiences to intersect with hers.

Recently, during a much needed respite from her grueling touring schedule, Chris took time to chat with me. We touched on a multitude of subjects, from her former job as a lab assistant at Smith College to her preference for boxers over briefs. However, it was this topic - the intensity of her writing and her consequential connection with her fans - to which we circled continuously back.

Queerky: First of all, thank you so much for taking time to talk.

Chris Pureka: No problem. I have a lot of down time right now. (laughs)

Q: Right off the bat I gotta ask you a serious question - boxers or briefs?

CP: Boxers.

Q: Now that we got that out of the way, let’s talk about your background. You have a degree in biology and you worked as a lab assistant. What compelled you to exchange such a secure, practical career for the quixotic life of a musician?

CP: I didn’t make the transition from scientist to musician overnight. I spent four years working in a lab but the whole time I was also working on music. I was aware of the ways in which having a day job was holding back (but) I didn’t actually leave that job until I was busy enough with music that I thought that I could make it work full time.

Q: Have you ever regretted that choice?

CP: (No) especially because I don’t think of it as irreversible. If in the next ten years I decide that I really want to do science again, I would do that.

Q: You list Gillian Welch, Ryan Adams, Patty Griffin, Kris Delmhorst, Peter Mulvey, Paul Simon, and Josh Ritter as influences. Have your influences changed over time? Who did you grow up listening to?

CP: Definitely. When I was growing up I listened to The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Cat Stevens. When I got older I listened to a lot of the alternative rock that came out of the 90’s - REM, Counting Crows, Toad the Wet Sprocket. Toad was actually my favorite band in high school. I listened to a lot of Ani DiFranco too. When I got to college I was introduced to the smaller indie artists that hadn’t been on my radar when I was younger, Dar Williams, Peter Mulvey, Melissa Ferrick, Kris Delmhorst, Martin Sexton, to name a few. Since then, I have been discovering the Alt-Country/Americana and indie scenes so my most recent influences are folks like Gillian Welch and Ryan Adams.

Q: Talk a little but about your writing process. Do you write every day? Only when inspired?

CP: I am pretty far removed from my writing process right now, which is sad. I have been touring so much that I haven’t had any time at all to work on new songs. That is something that I have found really hard about being a full-time musician. Usually I’ll work on writing and playing everyday for a few hours. Then eventually riffs and melodies evolve into songs. Most of my songs do come from a specific point of inspiration or intensity. I definitely use music as a cathartic process and a way to work through something emotional.

Q: Do you find you censor your writing either because you don’t want to hurt or expose someone in your life or because you feel like your fans have grown to expect a certain style from you?

CP: I have always censored myself a lot - but it is usually just trying to keep the bar high musically and lyrically. I only release or play a fraction of the songs that I write and I like to keep to that standard. I think that people that release every song they write usually end up releasing a lot of bad songs. I am a big fan of editing.

Q: Your fans relate to you in large part because of the personal nature of your lyrics, but I assume your identity also contributes to their allegiance. How do you define and why?

CP: I define myself as “queer” because it has implications in terms of gender and not just sexuality and also because it seems more political in nature.

Q: I’ve heard your music characterized as “womens’ music.” How do you feel about that phrase?

CP: I don’t favor labels like “lesbian musician” or “women’s music.” I think that those labels have specific implications that tend to pigeonhole artists. I define myself as a singer/songwriter. As an out musician I have a specific relationship with the queer community and I am constantly grateful for the loyalty and support that I have found there. Still, first and foremost I am a musician. I happen to be queer. My sexuality does not define my music and I don’t write songs about being queer. I am also not writing music for the queer community. I am writing music that I hope that a lot of people can relate to.

Q: Lesbians make fierce, loyal fans. On the surface this is a positive situation, but I wondered if you feel like having such a strong lesbian fan base has held you back in any way.

CP: There’s this escalating thing that happens, where the queer community is extremely loyal and that can really deter a wider audience. It’s unfortunate that it is that way. I think even more mainstream people can find themselves in a similar situation. For example, I feel like Dave Matthews ended up with the reputation of having a frat boy following. I liked Dave Matthews but at a certain point, that deterred me from listening more. I feel like people get hit with a label, these are their fans, and people that don’t identify with that label get deterred from being their fans. It’s the same in queer culture. I’ve seen straight people really connect to my music and then come to my show and feel alienated and not come back, and I hate that. That’s a really strong word but it’s frustrating. But that’s what happens when you come out. There are a lot of queer artists who don’t come out and you’re like, “Why aren’t you out? Come out!” because if they all did, it would be less extreme, it would dissipate the effect, but because people stay closeted the people who do come out end up taking on all of the energy from the queer community. It’s just a theory, but I feel like it makes sense.

Q: You mentioned relating to the label queer because of its political implications. Do you feel like as a queer performer there’s pressure for you to be overtly political?

CP: Yeah, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that that’s not what I do. I can be insightful in specific ways and that’s just not one of the ways that I’m insightful. I’m interested in music for the sake of music, not for a political outlet.

Q: Speaking again of writing versus performing, I have this theory that the writing impulse and the impulse to perform are pretty radically different and that writers are not necessarily natural performers and obviously vice versa. If you had to define yourself as either a writer or performer which label would you prefer to own? Why?

CP: I think that you are entirely correct. I think that it takes some very, very different skills to be able to write versus being able to perform - and not everyone that is good at one will be good at the other. I definitely identify more with being a writer. I think that I am naturally a more introverted person, so the need to be in the public eye hasn’t always appealed to me. I used to get really nervous before I would play. But that just meant that I had to work harder at being a performer.

Q: As an artist you tend to produce raw, emotionally charged songs. What is it like for you to go out night after night and present such honest, vulnerable work?

CP: It is an extremely vulnerable thing to do to put your emotional and personal thoughts out there for public scrutiny. It is always really hard the first few times that I play out a new song. Sometimes the act of performing a song will be cathartic and feel almost necessary. But there are definitely times when I really don’t feel like I want to share my experience. Those are often days when I would rather just be working on writing.

Q: So let’s say it’s one of those days where you just think, “I cannot play Compass Rose, I cannot be this vulnerable.” Do you alter your set list?

CP: I alter set lists based more on if there’s a show where there’s a specific energy people are interested in. There are two kinds of shows I play, one is a listening show where people are being quiet and attentive - that’s what I prefer - so I’ll play songs that work in that context. But there are definitely shows where I feel like people are there for a social reason, and it needs to be a more upbeat set. There are shows where I’m in a really bad mood and don’t want to play but then I end up having a really good show. There are also shows where that doesn’t happen, but you just have to take it as it comes because we plan our lives three months in advance, and you can’t change your mind at last second.

Q: Back to performing, arguably a performer/fan relationship is largely one sided; a performer puts out work; a fan relates and responds, and ends up feeling like she really knows the performer. What do you think about this dynamic? What sort of relationship are you comfortable having with your fans? Has anyone tried to push your boundaries?

CP: People do feel like they know me in a specific way, and I get it, I understand it. For the most part people are really respectful. There have been times where I feel like people have crossed the line, for instance people will be like, “Oh you should come have drinks with us,” and that’s fine, but sometimes I’ll be like “Nah, I’m cool, no thanks.” And sometimes people will really press the issue. I don’t appreciate that. People I don’t know will e-mail me and will be like, “Do you want to have dinner after your show?” and that just doesn’t make sense to me, and the Myspace thing makes people feel a lot closer than they would have ten years ago. I don’t have a problem with people asking me to hang out, that’s not the issue, it’s more like when people don’t respect me or try to push me - even physical boundaries, sometimes people feel like they can touch me and I’m like, “Don’t do that.” Sometimes people will be like, “Can I have a hug?” and that’s cute, but if they don’t ask first it can be weird.

Q: Can you relate at all to where your fans are coming from? For example, are there performers to whom you relate in a fanatical way?

CP: Growing up, you know like when I was fifteen, there were people I really admired. I understand that side of things really well. I feel like if I met my favorite artists now - I can’t really say how I would feel if I weren’t a performer - but I pretty much would want to shake their hand and be like, “Hey, cool, nice to meet you.” Actually, one of my favorite songwriters is Ryan Adams. I was in New York one time and he came into a bar I was at, and I was so excited but I couldn’t…I actually felt so strongly about performer boundaries that I didn’t even say anything and I actually regret that. I feel like there’s a compromise, a middle ground that needs to be met, there’s obviously an acceptable way to communicate with someone you like, so I feel like my reaction was actually extreme.

Q: Let’s talk a little about the business side of things. Dryland is self-released - I’m assuming that’s a hard option, but probably a freeing one. What are the pros and cons of that choice?

CP: I feel like the way I’ve been doing things - totally independent, (has) been working for me pretty well. At this point I’m inclined to stick with that. I have to work a lot harder to get to the same place (as artists signed to major labels), but if I get there, I have a lot more control, and I make more of a profit. I’ve been doing this for six, seven years, and I see people who started a year ago and signed to a major, and they’re where I am now. That can be hard to witness. With a major, you’re basically paying for opportunities to get your music out there, which is ultimately what everyone wants. It’s frustrating when I feel like I’m overlooked cause I’m not a priority in the press or in the venues. But I want all of my decisions to be my decisions - that’s really liberating. I’m particularly interested in not having pressure to release a record at a specific time. I already feel pressure just from myself and my fan base to constantly be writing all the time, and if there was a label that was like, “You need a record out by October,” I would hate that and it wouldn’t work with my personality. Basically, I’m comfortable where I am, but if a smaller label came along, I would be willing (to sign with them) if it made sense.

Q: Can you take us through a day in your life when you’re on tour?

CP: Wake up, get coffee, drive, drive, drive. Get to destination, unload the gear, sound check, eat something, play the show, drink something, find a hotel, sleep: repeat. Touring can be really great when you don’t have to play a show every single night. If it is a packed schedule, then there isn’t really any time to enjoy all the cool places you get to go, and you are literally sleeping in a different bed every night. It is also very, very tiring.

Q: When you come home from touring is it a hard transition?

CP: Yeah, I think that when I first come home, especially if its been a long tour, there’s a little bit of adjustment that needs to happen. It feels weird to be so still all of a sudden. Now that I’ve been doing it for a long time, it’s easier, the adjustment is faster. But when you first get home from a long tour you’re always like, “I can never do that again.” A lot of people will do two weeks, then home, and that’s a lot more manageable. I mostly don’t do that. If I’m gonna drive to Nashville, I might as well do Atlanta and all the cities that are down there cause otherwise you gotta spend the money on gas to get back there next time. It’s always a struggle to be at a financial place where you can afford to take more time off.

Q: Well, thank you so much. I think that’s all I need.

CP: You could write my biography at this point.

There are certainly worse ways to pass the time.

For more information on Chris Pureka, including tour dates and streaming audio, please visit her homepage or her little corner of Myspace.

Written by Sarah Terez Rosenblum

Sarah Terez Rosenblum spent the last four years of her life in Los Angeles and plans to return even though she hated it. She will be thirty in two years. Thank God she’ll have received her MFA in Creative Writing by then. That way, even though she’ll still be lacking any real idea of what she wants to do with her life, at least she’ll be massively in debt. You can contact her zeret18@gmail.com or visit her at myspace.com/raininariver. You can also buy her a pony. She’s always wanted one.

The Manic Music of MarchFourth

One drippy weekend a couple years back, I loaded up the minivan, stopped at McDonald’s, and took the kids to the Portland, Oregon Earth Day celebrations (I parked a few blocks away and made the kids leave their food in the car, understanding that not everyone would appreciate the irony). We were recent Portland transplants, still adapting to the local culture and scene, getting used to the green and gray. So, I was a bit surprised to lead my troops around the corner and come face-to-face with a tricked-out fire truck and two tail-coated stilt walkers, one in a black top hat. Women in short skirts and striped stockings, men in ruffle shirts and military band coats carrying horns and drums, an attractively faux-hawked trombone player, and more…wherever they were going, we gladly followed.

Under a handcrafted band shelter in one corner of the park, the band collected and started to play an amazing, riotous noise that one band member recently described for me as, “a big band experience that takes the marching band aesthetic and twists it, adds all the influence of world music, and throws in circus and cabaret.” And in the muddy grass, the crowd gathered.

That’s the thing about MarchFourth Marching Band, they play and the crowd gathers, stupefied by this extraordinary spectacle. This past March, for their fourth anniversary, they booked two shows at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland, the largest ballroom venue in town. To their surprise, they sold out both the all-ages matinee and the 21-and-over evening show. After getting together as a ‘one-off’ band for a Fat Tuesday show in 2003 and spending their first few years playing local shows and festivals, in the last year they’ve been playing gigs all along the West Coast. They’ve built their reputation at the Burning Man experience in the Nevada desert. They’ve represented the real spirit of American revolution at the Altoona Fun Parade during last year’s World Cup celebrations in Germany. And this year, this year might just be the year they start getting paid.

For a band this big, 34 active band members who won’t play with fewer than 18 or 19 members available, and a show that is never just music but dancers and stilt walkers as well, clearly this has been a labor of love. Fortunately, love is part of their vision. When they talk about their place within a growing genre of street bands and alternative circus, MarchFourth differentiates itself by not being politically oriented, but spiritually oriented - not in the religious, dogmatic sense, but playing music and creating an experience that is about people expressing their joy. Or, as “Cymbal Dan” Herrick described their intentions, “People are constantly looking to be surprised, to see new and innovative forms of art, and to connect with the wonder and awe that we experienced when we were young. M4 brings that spectacle and big show, and then makes you shake your ass!”

Putting that big show together, though, comes with huge investments of time and talent. The band rehearses weekly, with smaller groups of dancers, stilt walkers, drummers, etc., gathering for additional sessions. With at least 16 music writers in the band, compositions draw from a widely inspired set of influences. Other members bring their day-job skills as local artisans into the mix as metal workers fashioning drum carriages, or clothing designers crafting dancers’ costumes and stilt walkers’ long pants. These musicians wear a lot of hats. Literally. While a couple of people have quit their day jobs, most have modified their work lives to accommodate the schedule of weekly practice, shows, and out of town traveling. It’s probably good, too, that many of their day jobs have some flexibility, as the performing schedule has moved to upwards of 100 shows a year.

Talking with the band members, it’s clear that many of them feel they are reaching the crest of the wave that has been building since that first show four years ago. Performing so much more has made MarchFourth a tighter, sharper group. They’ve honed their repertoire to accommodate wildly different kinds of shows, taking their cues and fine-tuning the set list, clothing, and professionalism (read: amount of drinking and revelry that happens pre-show) depending upon their audience. The trip to Germany in 2006 left them with tales to tell (German beer! German groupies!), and acted as a transformative experience for the band. “We spent two weeks together, every day, and played a lot of shows there,” commented dancer and co-manager Faith Jennings. “We didn’t have the responsibilities of our daily lives as a factor during those two weeks, so we really just got to be in the band. And that was a great thing.”

Oregon. Texas. California. Washington. Nevada. More Oregon. Back to California. The 2007 schedule is getting serious. Their new 47-person bus is being decked out with a kitchen, and features that luxury of luxuries, a bathroom, “so no more 45-minute pee-breaks!” With their growing reputation, the band has had more opportunities to turn one-show road trips into multi-venue adventures. They’re featured on one cut of Pink Martini’s new CD ‘Hey Eugene’. They plan to be back in the studio soon to record their own sophomore album. Now in their fifth year together, they admit it’s a marvel the band is still around, with relatively little internal drama. They credit their all-ages appeal to the non-generationally alienating combination of band instrumentation, world music, and circus atmosphere. Best, it seems like they’re all still having fun. The beat comes down, and the crowds gather.

I’ve caught MarchFourth Marching Band at various shows around Portland since that first encounter when I really wanted to leave my children and go join their circus (hey, I’d look good in stripey tights!). I also underestimated their ability to fill the Crystal for their birthday show this year, and ended up acquiring tickets the night of the show on the street outside. Once inside, I wormed my way past people who appeared to range in age from about 15 to 65, and staked my claim right up front. It was getting late in a long day of performances, but the band was still red hot. Feeling the music cascading in through my ears and back out through my fingertips, drums building second heart rhythms, horns lighting the air with their brilliance, beauties, tumblers, stilts, motion, music and delight all converged ecstatically and exploded from the stage. Dan Herrick stated that the climax of the MarchFourth experience is a “glorious place where the music, the crowd, the band, all come together as one. That truly rarefied place where we all get to kiss peace, if only for a moment.” Celebrating their fourth birthday with this unique Portland treasure was indeed a glorious place. And I danced my ass off.

The name of the band itself is merely a hint at the nature of the MarchFourth musical experience, but doesn’t come close to doing it justice. This is a group of individuals whose collective passion for pushing beyond a conventional, passive performer/crowd dynamic has created multi-generational entertainment that fascinates audiences ranging from diapers to, well, Depends. While they have all the pieces in place for this to be a pivotal year for the group, in listening to their ambitions it becomes clear they will have to find their balance between performing and the rest of their lives, both individually and as a band. They’re confident this organism is continuing to grow, and have a strong vision as a group of continuing their deep connection with their music and their audience. But each of the folks I listened to eventually brought it back to what’s really at stake as they move into year five together: “Maybe we’ll all make enough to get paid! In order to conquer the world, we’re going to need to do that.” Fortunately, with the enthusiasm these performers bring to their shows, their genuine love of creating an amazing performance experience, and the growing numbers of fans and followers, it is only a matter of time until they do march forth and conquer the world.

For more information on MarchFourth, including tour dates , streaming audio and even ringtones, visit their website or official Myspace page!

Written by Darby Blue

All photos courtesy of Nik Wilhelm

The Cliks C’est Chiq

Looking at Lucas Silveira, you wouldn’t guess that he is a vanguard in the music industry. All five foot next to nothing, rocking the nu wave revival in his black shirt and thin red tie, he doesn’t really see himself as someone at the forefront of anything, just another guy who loves writing and performing rock-n-roll. Silveira’s band — a Toronto-based group called The Cliks — has been together in different forms since 2002, but the last year has certainly been unlike anything they’ve experienced since their humble beginnings as a Toronto bar band.

On April 24th, The Cliks released their first CD with Warner Music Canada and on Silver Records (Tommy Boy’s GLBT-specific label) in America. That date is the realization of a lifelong dream for Silveira, but in the music industry, it is also notable, as it is the first time that a vocal group with a trangendered frontman will have been released on a major label in North America, and quite possibly the world. What is equally worth mentioning is that while many queer groups remain in the underground, The Cliks’ new CD Snakehouse is so ridiculously catchy - not just their own songs, but also their cover of Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me A River” — that it is causing a huge buzz in the music industry. From Billboard to MTV.com, mainstream music journalists (largely made up of straight men) are writing about the band.

Singer/songwriter Silveira is humbled and clearly grateful for all the goodness - especially since it has been a long and occasionally arduous journey right up to this CD’s release. “I’ve been working very hard at this for a very long time,” he admits, “and it was getting to this point where I was starting to look for day jobs, because music was not paying the bills.” Snakehouse was being mixed in the studio when Silveira realized that it was time to pony up and get a ‘real’ job. Hours after that realization, everything changed. Jake Gold (co-manager of The Tragically Hip) called Silveira and said ‘I just listened to the album, it rocks! I wanna take you guys on!’ “I still can’t believe it,” the singer enthuses. “Fate just knocked us over.”

Excitement and gratitude still resonates in Silveira’s recollection of the story; part of his humility and down-to-earth-ness comes as a result of having a tumultuous recent past. In 2005, Silveira had found much of his world crashing down around him. His 6 1/2 year relationship ended, Silveira’s father had a stroke, and at the singer was coming to terms with thoughts about where he fit on the gender scale. “I wrestled with it my entire life, it was brutal. It affected relationships, friendships, music industry, day job. I started transitioning in 2005, 2-3 months out of the relationship.” While he feels comfortable in his body, Silveira - who had spent his whole life trying to make his way as a singer - struggled to come to terms with transitioning and how taking testosterone could threaten his career. “I kept thinking about my voice…I started doing my own research on testosterone and I thought ‘Oh fuck, I can’t do this.’ Music is number one in my life; at the end of it, I learned something about myself. I learned that I identify as a transgendered male, I don’t identify as a man. I started questioning things: am I not transgendered if I don’t have a deep voice and hair all over my body? No, I still am who I am, I decided that I was in the middle ground…but then I found a lot of people like me.” He has already had top surgery and admits that when it comes to the idea of testosterone, “every day is a temptation…but the realization is that if I choose one, I lose the other.”

The Cliks’ fast-rising success means that bigger audiences are coming out to see their live shows. When asked if the frontman is receiving lusty screams and flirtatious attention from a number of different genders and orientations, he blushes a little and smiles widely. “Straight women, straight men, lesbians and gay men. I am universal love,” he laughs, opening his arms wide. One of the most exciting things in The Cliks’ near future is their upcoming participation in Cindy Lauper’s True Colors tour, a traveling festival promoting ‘equality for all’ as their byline explains, hosted by Margaret Cho and featuring everyone from Erasure to Blondie to The Gossip and more. Tour host Cho describes them in her blog as “THE BAND of our time” and has also publicly stated that “no one else can inspire such crushed out admiration and full on rock star screaming.” Silveira is thrilled to be included on the tour, which will allow them to play for much larger crowds than they are used to. “On the main stage, we’ll be playing in front of 10,000+ people. That is going to be a huge thing for our careers, something that will change things for us by far. In fact, someone came up to me in the bathroom the other day at a show and said ‘Can I hug you before you get huge?’ The whole thing is happening really quickly, and I feel incredibly lucky.”

Check out The Cliks’ official website or Myspace page for more information including full length songs and upcoming tour dates!

Written by Denise Sheppard

Denise Sheppard (scribe at shaw dot ca) is a self-employed journalist/editor who likes long walks, candlelit dinners and writing for U.S and Canadian national mags and websites. Her fave topics are human rights-related pieces and entertainment journalism.

Singing and Swinging with Linda Tillery

In passing her on the street, one might not realize just how many stories Linda Tillery has to tell in terms of witnessing history. Truth is, this 57 year old woman has sung with many legends - from Wilson Pickett to Cris Williamson to Carlos Santana - all while living through an era when she and her peers were fighting for equal rights on three different levels: as a woman, as an African-American and as a lesbian.

Tillery first entered into the music business by auditioning for an r&b band called the Loading Zone in the late ’60s. The kind of music the group performed was admittedly not her first love - she cites crooners in that regard - but their timely appeal allowed her to experience opening slots for everyone from Janis Joplin to Cream. Following that stint, Tillery spent much of the ’70s as a percussionist/vocalist for hire, garnering studio gigs with everyone from Odetta to Richie Havens and more.

In passing her on the street, one might not realize just how many stories Linda Tillery has to tell in terms of witnessing history. Truth is, this 57 year old woman has sung with many legends - from Wilson Pickett to Cris Williamson to Carlos Santana - all while living through an era when she and her peers were fighting for equal rights on three different levels: as a woman, as an African-American and as a lesbian.

Tillery first entered into the music business by auditioning for an r&b band called the Loading Zone in the late ’60s. The kind of music the group performed was admittedly not her first love - she cites crooners in that regard - but their timely appeal allowed her to experience opening slots for everyone from Janis Joplin to Cream. Following that stint, Tillery spent much of the ’70s as a percussionist/vocalist for hire, garnering studio gigs with everyone from Odetta to Richie Havens and more.

Around the same time that Tillery was gaining increasing respect as a studio musician, a tiny, independent record label called Olivia Records was just getting off the ground. To any of you readers who take your queer freedoms for granted, imagine this: at a time when the word ‘homosexual’ still had to be whispered to avoid everything from ostracism to physical harm, a small group of lesbian women put their hearts, souls and life savings into a label that provided them the opportunity to record music that included songs about women-loving-women. Tillery recalls that period with much fondness. “I had never been in any situation where women were singing love songs to other women and expressing their longing and desire for a person of the same sex. I had never been to a concert although I certainly was becoming aware of people like Cris Williamson, Meg Christian, Holly Near.” After watching the scene from a distance, it all changed for her when in 1976, an all-woman’s band called Be Be K’Roche asked Tillery to produce their next album. “I looked at them as if they had spoken to me in martian! I had never produced a record before, but I said ‘ok, this is how you start.’ So I met with Judy Dlugacz of Olivia, we set the date and I went about producing this record. It was really an incredible, moving experience to be in the presence of women who were dedicated, who set about to do the best job that they could possibly do, and nobody said ‘you play like a girl.’

Tillery admits that there were many highlights during her decade with the label, as an artist, producer and session player, but one of her favorite moments was being involved in a musical statement designed to counter-attack the extreme homophobia of that period. At the time, a singer named Anita Bryant - also famous for her series of commercials plugging Florida orange juice - reacted against a Florida county who passed a human-rights ordinance that prohibited discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. While Bryant campaigned loudly against queers who “recruit our children” the Olivia dykes created a protest-mixed-with-humour collection they dubbed ‘Lesbian Concentrate.’ The entertaining and effective disc included the songs “For Straight Folks Who Don’t Mind Gays But Wish They Weren’t So Blatant”, “Don’t Pray For Me”, and “Ode to a Gym Teacher.” “We made this in [Olivia founder] Judy’s living room,” recalls Tillery, “and it was such a great time! We set up, started playing and it was the most fun I’ve ever had making a record. The label has an orange juice can with the words ‘Lesbian Concentrate’ on it,” she laughs.

Years later, after a host of studio work, Tillery’s musical focus suddenly changed when watching singing in a play entitled ‘Letters From A New England Negro’ in 1992, which introduced her to some field recordings of traditional African-American music. Led by her deep conviction, she decided to create a project that would help spread that history along, the kind of storytelling that she herself calls “survival music.” Tillery dubbed the outfit The Cultural Heritage Choir. “I can’t emphasize how important black music has been in my development as a musician and human being,” she explains. “The purpose was and is to present African-American roots music to as broad an audience as we possibly could. That we have achieved and continue to do.”

With spirituality so integral to the music, the question can’t help but be asked; has there been any repercussion from the religious community as a result of her being an out lesbian? “I think that the African American community at large is still grappling with how to accept homosexuality. For a lot of people who consider themselves to be devout, homosexuality is not acceptable. What is not acceptable to me is someone who would call themself a Christian who might express hatred or disdain towards another person. To me, negativity and Christianity really don’t have a place together. I don’t consider myself any less black because I ‘m a lesbian and I don’t consider myself any less lesbian because I’m black. I am who I am.”

To find out more about her latest projects, head to http://www.culturalheritagechoir.com/

Written by Denise Sheppard

Denise Sheppard (scribe at shaw dot ca) is a self-employed journalist/editor who likes long walks, candlelit dinners and writing for U.S and Canadian national mags and websites. Her fave topics are human rights-related pieces and entertainment journalism.

Interview with Musician Courtney Robbins

From high school jazz musician and self-effacing garage band guitarist to opening for folk rock icons Dar Williams, Melissa Ferrick and Lucy Kaplansky, Courtney Robbins’ muscular rhythms and melodic grace are impossible not to tap along to. Infused with raw nostalgia and emotional urgency, Robbins’ music artfully blends the taut intimacy of an acoustic affair with galloping riffs and a fragile, folk sensibility. Courtney took some time out of her Sunday afternoon to talk with Queerky about her upcoming album, creating poetry out of politics and the repercussions of throwing a pie in Ann Coulter’s face.

So how would you describe your sound?

CR: I’d say its folk rock, with more rock than folk, more energetic. A little bit of country has been creeping in too. It just sometimes happens like that. I listen to a fair amount of blue grass and alt-country stuff like Dolly Parton and Gillian Welch, but I would have a hard time saying I play country music.

Who are some of your influences?

CR: Well, I grew up listening to primarily the oldies station, like The Mamas and the Papas and the Beach Boys. Then I started listening to more classic rock like Led Zeppelin and Janis Joplin. Then my sister tried to get me into the Indigo Girls in high school, but I didn’t like them at first. Patty Griffin, Joni Mitchell and Stevie Ray Vaughan are also up there. I know it’s kind of cheesy, but in a way I think we’re influenced by everything we hear - even stuff from high school jazz band, you know?

Oh, I agree. Speaking of high school, I have to ask about your garage band name “Some Idiots Afloat.” How did that come about?

CR: Some Idiots Afloat…how did we decide on that? We practiced in our drummer’s basement and his parents had a bunch of old magazines strewn about. I’m pretty sure it was the title of a Life magazine article from the 60s.

And you went to college in New York?

CR: Yep, Hamilton College. I was a creative writing major.

What kind of themes do you explore in your writing?

CR: Usually I tend to draw from personal experiences. Some of my songs are generated from stories I hear and think are relevant. I think actually my degree in creative writing has given me an ear for stories I might want to turn into songs, but I don’t sit down and think, “I’m gonna write this kind of song” unless it’s something that really caught my attention. I don’t write overtly political songs usually but I do think that the personal and political turn up some in my songwriting.

It’s certainly difficult to make poetry out of politics. That’s why I’m always amazed that songwriters like Ani DiFranco do it time and again.

CR: I know! She manages to do it in original, interesting ways each time too.

I read on your website that you recorded an album, but haven’t released it quite yet. What was that process like?

CR: Well, it’s called “Red Sky in Morning” and should be done hopefully within the month. The title references a line from one of the songs. I was working with Dave McGraw, who’s also a singer/songwriter and an awesome drummer, Thomas Lord, who I met a couple times in Tucson. I went up to Vermillion Cliffs in northern Arizona last February and we ended up recording eighteen songs in three days. There are going to be twelve tracks on the CD, plus a hidden track. The whole process was totally laid back. We recorded right outside of the Grand Canyon, in a tiny community of about forty people. It was beautiful and relaxed and just quiet out there.

Speaking of relaxing, what celebrity would you most like to punch in the face?

CR: That’s a funny question because I immediately think, who am I to punch someone in the face? But…that said…I could probably punch Ann Coulter in the face, if I had to.

Do you remember those University of Arizona students who tried to throw a pie at her when she came to lecture in Tucson?

CR: Yeah, someone told me the other day that there’s still a legal battle going on with whoever threw the pie.

They didn’t even hit her. She ducked.

CR: Really? An attempted pie throwing! That shouldn’t count. I don’t see how they can still be in trouble.

Yeah, a waste of a good pie too. So how long have you lived in Tucson? Any notable differences between East/West music scenes?

CR: I’ve been in Tucson for two and a half years. I had mostly college-related music experiences in the Northeast, so it’s kind of hard to say. But there is the Northeast Singer/Songwriter Circuit which fosters more of a music community that the Southwest doesn’t really seem to have as much of, in my experience. But maybe it’s because of location- many of the large cities and colleges are close together in the Northeast which makes it a little easier. Everything’s spread out here and I’m still taking time to see to see how things work, getting my foot in the door. I haven’t played outside of Tucson much because I have a job and not a lot of time to run off to shows. But I did play a show in Seattle recently and some in Tempe too.

Do you think sites like MySpace have helped make the marketing process easier for independent musicians who are trying to get their stuff out there?

CR: I think it’s great. I didn’t know a whole lot about MySpace until recently. My friends were trying to get me to sign up but I was like, “Nah, I’m on Friendster. I don’t need another internet meeting place.” Once I started looking into it though, it was actually kind of cool. The music sites are very do-it-yourself and this whole world is at your fingertips-you can network, find other musicians, download songs, etc. I’ve gotten a couple shows through MySpace and when I was trying to find a place in Seattle to play I looked up this bar, the Conor Byrne Pub, that does women’s music on Tuesdays, which took me, of course, back to MySpace.

So what new projects are you working on?

CR: Well, let’s see. I’m going to try to cover my costs from the CD and to get more shows around Tucson lined up. Once I have the CD, I can tell people something besides “Well, here’s a crappy demo, but I don’t really sound like that anymore.” I’m going to try to get more shows outside of Tucson as well, once I have the CD in hand.

Check out Courtney Robbins’ music on her website www.courtneyrobbins.com or on MySpace www.myspace.com/courtneyrobbins

Written by Anna Pulley

Anna is a post-Creative Writing major and validation junky. In addition to Queerky, she also writes for dykediva.com, does film reviews for theaspectratio.net and writes profiles for singles on e-cyrano.com. She uses quotation marks unnecessarily and spends entirely too much time justifying the artistic merit of limericks. You can contact her at banannarama01@yahoo.com