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The intersection of webcomics and music got a little richer this week with Meredith Gran’s Octopus Pie telling a story centered around The Shaggs.
The Shaggs are… hard to describe. They couldn’t really play their instruments, but they don’t have any kind of punk or garage aesthetic. They go a step beyond that DIY sound. As musicians, it’s not just that they can’t play; it sounds like they’re not even in the same room as each other. And yet they have a real winsome quality; an earnestness.
Here; just do this. First, go read the story at Octopus Pie then give them a listen on YouTube.
Octopus Pie tells the story of two young roommates in Brooklyn navigating the world of relationships and hipsters.
(And speaking of hipsters! My favorite assessment of hipsters remains “Everyone’s seen a hipster but nobody is one” — but I also suggest you check out Kate Beaton’s take on hipsters through the ages: part one and part two.)
With the advent of compact discs, and now MP3s, the cassette tape went the way of the dinosaur. And, with it, went the mixed tape. Made of an “A” side and a “B” side, the mixed tape provided music lovers with the opportunity to create a sonic theater of sentiment complete with an intermission. Having two sides made it possible to fit two themes onto one tape, to make two full acts of music and to draw the crescendo of the tape out in a dramatic way.
It is easier, of course, to make a mix on a cd. All that is needed is a computer and a burner and a mix can be made in less than ten minutes. Tapes required elbow grease. Pulling the tapes you wanted to dub, searching for the tracks. Re-taping it if the sound didn’t come out right the first time, and trying to get the timing just right, so that no songs got cut off but also trying to avoid minutes of blank tape at the end of a side. I have fond memories of spending nights hunched over my tape deck, meticulously making mixes for friends (“Tori Amos Essentials”, “Good Going Out Tape”, “Girls!”) and for partners (“Love/Lust”, “Make Out Mix”, “You, Me, Rock”). Getting a handmade mixed tape was the best gift one could get. There was such an excitement in throwing it in your tape player and putting on your headphones, wondering what the next song, and the next side, would be.
In 2009, it is rare to find someone with a tape player. The last time I made a mixed tape was in 2003, and then subsequently had to buy my boyfriend a tape player to play it on. Cds are the wave of the future, but how can we make them just as good as the old standard, the mixed tape? And what just plain makes a good mix?
It’s a weird thing to sit around and plan your funeral. I can’t imagine I’m the only one that’s ever done it; in fact, I know I’m not the only one who sits and thinks of these things. However, I know it’s not the most casual of thoughts for most people. But one night during college, we were all sitting around and it must have come up and I was expounding on the subject, saying how I definitely wanted a New Orleans-style brass band parade.
I’m sitting in the railway station.
Got a ticket for my destination.
On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and guitar in hand.
And ev’ry stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band.
I also threw in that I’d like Simon and Garfunkel’s “Homeward Bound” to be played at some point during the service. My friends, Dave and Joel, piped up and said that not only would they see to it that my request was carried out, but that they personally would sing it themselves. Although, Joel said he’d be singing the Simon/George Harrison version they did live on Saturday Night Live in 1976.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Fine by me, I said. I was actually pretty honored and touched that my friends were so quick to jump to my aid and volunteer to do me such a noble deed. Especially since neither of one of them were musicians or anything. It meant something in that moment; it seemed like some sort of friendship cement was being laid down — for all the good making promises over a potential future funeral are worth.
But it would come up from time to time as the years passed, and we’d laugh about it and I’d sort of roll my eyes at my younger self and wonder what kind of idea that was in the first place. But Dave and Joel always got very serious at the mention of it and promised yet again that they would, in fact, still show up and sing this for my hopefully unforeseeable demise.
Ev’ry day’s an endless stream
Of cigarettes and magazines.
And each town looks the same to me, the movies and the factories
And ev’ry stranger’s face I see reminds me that I long to be
Years and years have passed now, and the three of us don’t really see one another or really talk so much anymore. Things happen, people change, lives grow apart. If it comes to the point where this needs to happen, honestly, I’m not going to be around to do the asking. And I guess I’m old enough to start thinking about some sort of will or something. I don’t have any real possessions to pass down or give away, but I suppose it would be worth it to at least outline to my parents or friends, “Hey, it’s okay if these guys sing this song at my funeral. Seriously.”
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
I mention this because those are the kinds of things that get cemented in your mind forever, that never leave you even when the people shift out of your life. These are the kinds of memories that will never fade. Every time I hear that song, I will always think of Dave and Joel and their promise made during a late-night conversation about life and death, made when we were too young to know much about either. It is the power of music that intoxicates me and always leads me back to the places where I first found it — the radio.
Tonight I’ll sing my songs again,
I’ll play the game and pretend.
But all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity
Like emptiness in harmony I need someone to comfort me.
It was the radio in my father’s car, playing the oldies. It was the radio in my room, trying to catch my favorite songs exactly at the right time so I could tape them from start to finish. It was the radio station at college, and the new friends I made, who taught me about life and love and the pursuit of new music. It was the years and years of driving around in all sorts of cars on all sorts of roads in all sorts of weather, having endless conversations and calming the tempest that is my mind — all to the soundtrack of the radio.
Homeward bound,
I wish I was,
Homeward bound,
Home where my thought’s escaping,
Home where my music’s playing,
Home where my love lies waiting
Silently for me.
Silently for me.
It’s good to have another place to be a part of that. It’s wonderful to have another radio home. I am looking forward to sharing CHIRP with Chicago and with the world so everyone else can feel at home with us, too. So we can all exchange ideas and new music and have a place to discuss our community and our world. I can’t wait until we’re live on air with something alive and exciting in Chicago that’s creative and inspiring — something for everyone to hear.
I’m nowhere near dead, but I definitely feel like I’m coming home.
“Homeward Bound,” — Simon and Garfunkel, ‘Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme’
We at CHIRP were shocked and saddened to hear about The Scotland Yard Gospel Choir’s serious highway accident yesterday. SYGC has been a good friend to CHIRP since our inception, performing at benefits for us and being generally awesome.
In addition to having injuries requiring hospitalization, the band has lost their van and all of their equipment.
Bloodshot Records has set up a recovery fund you can donate to via PayPal. Please join us in contributing to this fund, and share this link with your friends. Tweet it, Facebook it, Digg it, get the word out.
Thanks.
[UPDATE] I changed the news link above to the Bloodshot Records’ news item on their site, because it will be updated as new information becomes available. (Latest news: Mark’s condition upgraded from “Critical” to “Serious”.) If you want the original “breaking news” link I had up before, you can find it here.
Before we get started, a quick word of introduction.
CHIRP was formed, in part, to focus on independent musicians and artists that are underrepresented on the bigger, more commercial stations. All too often, in my opinion, that group includes female artists. Or rather, female artists that are more than just a pretty face and an auto-tuner. As a classically trained percussionist and a drummer, the subject of women in rock is one that is near and dear to my heart. I co-hosted the Women on Women Radio Program for years, I have spoken on panels devoted to women in rock, and heck, I even wrote my Master’s thesis on female musicians.
This post then, marks the first in a series of mini-bios highlighting female musicians who are particularly noteworthy or groundbreaking, female-led bands that have injustly slipped through the cracks into obscurity, and/or just my personal favorite ladies in the industry. I’d like to start off this feature with a look at one of the first all-female rock and roll bands: Goldie & the Gingerbreads.
Born in the era of girl groups, American band Goldie & the Gingerbreads stood out for one very important reason: they played their own instruments. In fact, the Gingerbreads were the first all-female rock band signed to a major label (Atlantic subsidiary Atco), and the first to have any sort of chart success. While other girl groups and female artists had already gained popularity within rock and roll and made an impact on the charts, these women were primarily, if not exclusively, singers. Furthermore, their backing bands were nearly always 100% male. With Goldie Zelkowitz on vocals, Carol MacDonald on guitar, Margo Lewis on organ, and Ginger Bianco on drums, the Gingerbreads were nothing short of groundbreaking. At the same time, however, they were something of a novelty in the male-dominated music industry. MacDonald readily acknowledges this fact: “‘We didn’t think anything of it,’ she says. ‘We got more jobs because they were exploiting the hell out of us. All Girl Band! They’d do the whole thing, tits and ass. And we didn’t care. We were happy because we knew we could play, and we were knocking the socks off most of the male bands. And the guys couldn’t believe it. They’d start laughing, and then they’d walk out crying’” (Garr 59). In fact, the Gingerbreads toured with some of the biggest male rock acts of the time: the Rolling Stones, the Kinks, the Yardbirds, and the Hollies, to name but a few. They even had a hit in England with the song “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat,” which was later a hit in the U.S. for Herman’s Hermits.
Their success, however, was limited, and their enjoyment of fame tempered by Atlantic’s manipulation of their public image. Before MacDonald joined the Gingerbreads, she recorded solo for Atlantic under the name Carol Shaw. “‘They wanted me to be Lesley Gore,’ she says. ‘My first record, “Jimmy Boy,” was that type of thing. So they give me this image, and I’m not happy. I’m not playing guitar, number one, and I’m not doing my own music” (Garr 58). Her annoyance only increased when, a few years later, the Gingerbreads were asked to record “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat.” “‘I hated the song,’ says MacDonald. ‘We’re doing stuff like “Harlem Shuffle,” and then they give us this “Every time I see you… dee da dee de dee.” Eeeow! I said, “Goldie! What are we doing?” She said, “We gotta do what they say!” It’s like we had to do everything they said or we were not going to be successful’” (Garr 60).
Still, the band engaged in their own small rebellions against the prevalent negative stereotypes of female musicians. Goldie recalls, “‘We’d walk into a club with all our instruments and you could see the owner going “Oh my God, these broads? They know how to play? They really know how to play?” We’d set up and have a sound check and play totally out of tune, and I would sing the wrong lyrics. And the guy’d be chewing on his cigar going “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” And by the time we went on and counted off the song, we were cookin’. You could see the cigar drop and the guy had a heart attack… We had fun with this’” (Garr 59).
Ultimately, however, Goldie and the Gingerbreads folded due to misappropriation of finances by their management, the pressures of relentless touring, and the disappointment of never breaking big in the States. Goldie went on to become Genya Ravan and front Ten Wheel Drive (who reportedly turned down a spot at Woodstock), and later produced the Dead Boys’ debut record. Carol MacDonald and Ginger Bianco went on to form the influential jazz/funk band Isis, which later also included Margo Lewis and original Gingerbreads’ pianist Carol O’Grady. While the Gingerbreads may not have found the widespread acceptance or acclaim they craved, by the mere fact of their existence they nonetheless fought the rigidly institutionalized sexism that limited women in the music industry at the time, and paved the way for future all-girl bands to be taken seriously.
Works Cited:
Garr, Gillian G. She’s A Rebel: The History of Women in Rock and Roll (expanded second edition). New York: Seal, 2002.
Additional Reading:
Wikipedia
AllMusic
Genya Ravan’s homepage
This article also appeared on the WOW Music Blog