[sic] Magazine

Bring ’em back.

Recently, I read “She’s a Rebel: The History of Women in Rock and Roll.”

Although the foreword was written by Yoko Ono – who in my opinion has nothing to say about the matter, – it was filled with lots of useful information and baffling truths about the hardship female artists were faced with back in the day. They lacked the recognition they truly deserved and ended up having a lot of their songs covered by male artists who then made it into the charts. I wear bras, I’m no hardcore feminist – so I am not going to go into a rant and rave about the injustice of it all or some crap like that. Because the real die-hard music freaks out there know about all the great female legends in Rock’n’Roll, know they existed, what they moved and accomplished and will go on to cherish them for another lifetime to come. The real music junkies, will also know how to look past tits, arse and a generally meat-packaged-body (Lady Gaga anyone?) and no matter how hard they get, desperately trying to fight the inevitable animalistic instincts, they somehow manage to make the blood flow back to their ears as opposed to lower regions and appreciate the musical talent, the cheeky attitude and the unforgiving energy of the REAL women in rock.

Everyday, a new pop starlet is born and the media promises us “a new sensation”, “a brilliant singer/songwriter” or “the new rock chic” and ultimately what we end up with, is another Britney Spears humping a motorcycle and putting shame to a song that was once so good.

I Love Rock’n’Roll…I mean really? The girl who sang “She’s so Lucky, she’s a Star”? Really? So just because she began her career dressed as a slutty schoolgirl, singing a song that can be interpreted as some S&M fantasy by most blue balled teenage boys out there, she is now classed as an actual talent? It makes me want to gag….which brings me on to the next point: Lady Gag(a).

Do you really think she would have made it anywhere, singing “Gagaoohlala”, if it weren’t for a non-existent wardrobe and Madonna-esque video clips? Puleaaaaase.

Sex sells. We all know that. Hell, you can’t open a magazine these days without having some half naked model staring back at you so seductively, you literally start hearing her horny panting and feeling her moist areas. Sadly, this is what people today look for in the bands or artists they follow. They don’t care if Kate Perry can hit a note – they care about the fantasy she projects. Ever listened to Rhianna’s lyrics? No? That’s because you were too busy watching her shake her ass from side to side and harass her Um-Brella-Ella-Ella-Eh wearing something that can’t even pass as a bathing suit. All those little pop chics out there have found a brilliant strategy of directing their audience focus on their “sex appeal” (and I put this in quotes because to me it’s about just a sexy as walking into a busy bar after 2am on a Saturday night and watching the embarrassing mating ritual which leaves nothing to the imagination) rather than the actual “music” ( no need to explain the quotes on this one) they are trying to introduce to the world, cause they know it’s empty and pathetic and all they really have going for them are model features, porn star poses and an expensive wardrobe.

All this, it just makes me want to cry – nay – ball, at the soul destroying realization that female artists are no longer respected for their actual talent, lyrics and bitchin’ attitude, but for their ability to suck every single neuron out of a man’s brain leaving them loving this shit they call music and making women want to be just another cardboard copy of them because this is an obsession we have already adapted from every other media angle out there. These ditsy characters are taking over today’s music industry and suddenly all those who really matter, who really have something to show for are forgotten. Janis who?

Does no one even remember the Chics who started it all? Who actually moved something, said something and inspired people all across the world?

I remember the first time I heard Janis Joplin’s “Cry Baby”. Obviously, no one can belt the blues like dear old Janis, but you know…someone could try as opposed to just being plain shit lazy….When I hear her sing, I don’t think about the peachiness of her arse, I think about that cheeky, dirty laugh and her incredible spirit on stage.

Grace Slick – now that’s a woman I would like to meet. Just imagine the stories she could tell having roamed the stage with all the big boys, having laughed at Jim Morrison for popping everything handed to him in the streets of Amsterdam and actually filling in for his set. I can imagine her mischievous face as she plotted to spike the tea at a party held by Nixon and his people with Acid. But those are just the funny aspects to her personality ( yeah, she actually had one!), there’s so much more to her, like her unbelievable sense of style and poise on stage…just watch her dance with the white rabbit…it’s truly beautiful. I don’t think I need to say anything about her music, anyone who chose to ignore the existence of Jefferson Airplane is a fool.

PJ Harvey the musical chameleon, the style-shifter with a playful eye for detail has tried herself in all genres including electronica and time and time again she manages to pull it off in ways only few can, with the exception of Anouk.

Women like PJ Harvey and Anouk give me faith, that maybe, just maaaaaybe, there are still some real, strong feminine figures out there with mesmerizing, forceful voices and lyrics, bringing to us that special vibe only true musicians can deliver. Women who are too powerful, too sophisticated, too fucking good to ignore. It didn’t take a flash of PJ Harvey’s fanny or a sneaky peek into Anouk’s bra to draw the attention of an audience who knows how to appreciate the intensity of this musical wave of diversity they keep surfing, never failing to satisfy the eardrum, leaving us lingering in an upsurge of resolution.

Anouk hasn’t disappointed me yet and I doubt that the question of “What the hell is she doing now?” will ever rear its ugly head. She hasn’t ceased to amaze me with her albums (Urban Solitude and Together Alone being my top 2) and although her appearance can be quite comical at times (two front gold teeth or weird head wear), she remains beautiful for me in every possible way, her uitstraling – as her fellow folk would call it – is truly captivating. The same counts for PJ Harvey and her constant metamorphosis. No one can make me feel the way she does with songs like “It’s You”, she inches herself deeper and deeper into my soul with that haunting voice of hers, creating an atmosphere I can hardly begin to describe…..Look what you’re doing to me….

I guess what I am trying to say my Bitches is, we need a new musical revolution. We have to unite the sisterhood of true rock and bring them back to the forefront, start a deposition against all these plastic fantastic exhibitionists and make way for those girls out there today, who can still touch us with penetrating lyrics and imaginative performances- not with a mental wank, we get enough of that everywhere else, thank you very much.

For more from Roxanne, please visit The Pink Boots