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JOAN JETT At Live Sets: Grrrl Power!
from: new.music.yahoo.com
by Lyndsey Parker
I remember sometime back in the '90s, the Lilith Fair tour was making its estrogen-powered sojourn across this great nation of ours, with nubile young granola girls from coast to coast stringing up their belly chains, reapplying their henna tattoos, and breaking in their Birkenstocks in preparation for the folky femme festivities. I was one female music-lover who opted out of Lilith, however.
Yes, I had a few problems with the whole "Women In Rock" thing back then. First off, it annoyed me to no end that such a tagline implied that women rocking out was a hot, recent new trend--a trend that, like all trends, would eventually go away--and that this media hype completely and condescendingly dismissed the many women rockers of all colors, shapes, and sizes who paved the way, from Wanda Jackson to Janis Joplin, Heart to the Go-Go's, Marianne Faithfull to Exene Cervenka, Chrissie Hynde to Siouxsie Sioux, etc., etc., etc.
And of course, let's not forget the Queen Of Noise, the Cherry Bomb herself, the one and only JOAN JETT.
More importantly, my main gripe was many of the most-championed heroines of the 1990s' "Women In Rock" movement didn't really ROCK at all. Let's face it, there really wasn't anything all that rockin' about Jewel's yodeling, Tori Amos's piano operatics, Fiona Apple's teen melodrama, Lisa Loeb's cheery chirping, or Sarah McLachlan's meditative balladry. Sure, these artists were talented and their music was valid, but they just didn't ROCK, period. What I found most disturbing about all this non-rockin'-ness was that just a few years earlier, a different breed of women rockers was getting all the hype. These broads were unapologetically tough, gutsy, loud, messy, and angry--I'm talking about the riot grrrls in Bikini Kill, Babes In Toyland, Huggy Bear, Sleater-Kinney, the Red Aunts, L7, and even Hole. Though this movement soon became yet another media clichŽ, it did seem more encouraging and empowering to think of women as creatures who could scream and shout and spit and smash their instruments as noisily and attitudinally as the boys.
And all of these women owed an enormous debt--and some of them even collaborated with--the original riot grrrl, JOAN JETT.
Long before riot grrrls first rioted or Lilith Fair was even a glint in Sarah McLachlan's eye, Joan first reared her jett-black head in the '70s with the all-girl, all-awesome band the RUNAWAYS. With their hoodlum-slut/jail-bait image and fearsome rockin'-ness, they were every hormonally challenged teen boy's wet dream, every rebel girl's idol, every mother's nightmare...and their definitive, infamous call-to-arms, "Cherry Bomb," was hot and hussyish enough to make Nabokov rise from the dead. They preceded Pat Benatar, the Go-Go's, the Bangles, or even fictional Happy Days badgirls Leather and Pinky Tuscadero, and they certainly defined tuff-talkin' chick-rock long before the Alanises of the world came along.
And really, no one ever came along again who was as cool as Joan. Whether producing the one classic Germs album; recording one of the biggest singles of all time (a classic cover of the Arrows' glam-rock obscurity "I Love Rock 'N' Roll," a version so good that not even Britney Spears's later desecration on the Crossroads soundtrack could tarnish Joan's legacy); upstaging Trent Reznor (yes, THAT Trent Reznor) in the movie Light Of Day; collaborating with members of Seattle legends the Gits in the punk supergroup Evil Stig and with second-generation riot grrrls on her album Pure And Simple; or reportedly canoodling with Carmen Electra, Joan always defined the true meaning of Girl Power.
So I was certainly excited to see Mizz Jett in the flesh (incredibly well-preserved flesh, too), when I showed up at her Nissan Live Sets dress rehearsal. Although it surprised me how tiny she was--she seriously couldn't have been taller than 5'2", and I'd expected a towering, Amazonian rock warrior--her presence was still very much larger than life. She was hard to miss, sheathed head to toe in slick, skintight black PVC (an outfit she would later change out of for the real show...into another slick, skintight black PVC ensemble!); she had buff-beyond-perfection arms that would make Linda Hamilton's look like overcooked spaghetti noodles; and despite her petite stature, she looked completely capable of kicking some serious ass. And kick ass she did, at least figuratively, when she began rehearsing "Crimson & Clover," "Bad Reputation," "Cherry Bomb," and covers of the Replacements' "Androgynous" and the Sweet's "ACDC." I sat there in utter awe, loving her from the bottom of my big (black) heart. Now here was a real Woman In Rock. Or just a real Person In Rock. She just rocked, pure and simple.
Once it was time for the show to begin, the Jett Army eagerly filed in, all gussied up in their fiercest rock 'n' roll finery--we're talking yards upon yards of fishnet, black denim, leather, pleather, and faux fur; hair dyed rainbow-bright colors Mother Nature never imagined; and enough zippers, silver skulls, and wallet chains to cause an airport metal detector to undergo a Chernobyl-esque meltdown. Joan herself had changed in her aforementioned slicker and tighter rockstar getup, and she proceeded to rock the joint (this was the final Live Sets show at the original Fox Studios location, and I couldn't imagine a more awesome sendoff).
But perhaps the most rockin' part of the night, for me at least, was meeting Joan, when I finally got to shake the surprisingly dainty hand that has played all those decidedly non-dainty riffs over the years. I only got to meet her long enough to smile pretty for the camera in our mandated photo opp, before she rushed off to the stage, so I didn't get a chance to tell her how much I admire her. But that's OK. I have a feeling she knows that all chicks like myself love rock 'n' roll, and love her.
See JOAN JETT AND THE BLACKHEARTS' Yahoo Nissan Live Set here.
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