From Jimmy Saville, the UK DJ, raping pre-teen girls in the 70s, to Mick Jagger’s incipient “Yes I know you’re only fifteen years pld, no I don’t want your ID,” through Led and thirteen year old groupies, to Jerry Lee Lewis’ incestuous thirteen year old cousin, all the way to Kesha being fucked over twice, to Casblanca records, through countless groupies getting the wrong end of the stick, through would be popstars trading sex for stadom, through managers like Alanis Morrisette’s all the way to yesterday with Camp Cope’s “It’s another all-male tour preaching equality,” it is incredible that The “MeTo” slash “TimesUp” have given the music industry a free ride.
I don’t get it. Part of me think’s that it might be similar to the porn industry, that sexism in the music business is so endemic it goes unnoticed, part of me thinks that somewhere over there Ronan Farrow is heading off pop sexism at the pass. But how has the movies gotten nailed and the music biz hasn’t been neutralized? It is quite, quite impossible that the scene isn’t permeated with pigs turning rebellion into head, everywhere you turn, from rock where the backstage laminate comes with a prize, to hip hop, where the only thing you can say about the women on the scene is they are shot at less regularly than the men are.
Everywhere, on every avenue, of popular music women are abused by men. Try getting in a music video without fucking half the crew. You can’t do it. Try getting backstage without working your way through security and roadies, I dare you. The groupies were a scene unto themselves. But elsewhere sex workers were routinely abused and siuffed by rock stars who didn’t believe they had to pay for it, though, at least in hip hop sex workers, from Lil Kim to Cardi B were escorting and/or stripping their way into the charts.
In rock circles, the biggest wimps in the world, the Conor Obersts and Jesse Laceys were treating their fans like garbage, fucking em and fucking em over, in a maelstrom of contempt, of yes, I’ll fuck then go way, you slut. In the recording business itself, managers were older lovers with the likes of Alanis Morrisette, who while still underage had an affair with her abusive manager. Every step of the way the scene is filled with Dr. Luke’s ready to use up the Keshas and throw em away.
Nothing has changed in the music business yet, no top names have rolled. So what are they waiting for? Clean the swamp.
an old school New York feel
oedipal vulnerable and blue collar visceral
An emotional song with Miya’s acrobatic and vulnerable vocals
Creem – America’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll Magazine, Reviewed Issue By Issue – May 1973 (Volume 4, Number 12)
From Robert Johnson to the Ramones – what a life!
one of the great top tens of the 2020
will mark their return to the road in early February, 2023 with a string of to-be-announced US arena dates
enjoyable and soulful romp
another full day of music
his weakest album to date
hoedown, snappy , country slappy