Top Ten Olympic Moments so Far
Current mood: hyper
Category: Sports
1. My favorite moment. Go Latvia! After the American media sang the praises of our men's volleyball tandem and laughed at the Latvian who said he knew how to get into our best player's head it was a blast watching the announcers eat crow as Latvia won. They had to bring in an outside expert because the nimrods didn't really know anything about the Latvian team. I love it when our spin meisters look like the assholes they are and boy howdy did they!
2. Opening ceremony. I love light shows so I was in heaven, even though NBC SUCKS! They cut away for soooo many commercials! They took crappy angles on spectacular shots. No wide angle lens on the firework footsteps?! No shot from in the air so we can see the footsteps cross Beijing? So many beautiful moments but my favorite was that display of piston like precision I was sure was computerized and then the surprise of the humans underneath smiling and laughing. They had rehearsed for weeks and never got it right. But they got it right when it counted. That was hot. I also loved the 2008 Tai Chi masters. But the procession of athletes, yikes, has it ever been that boring? Part of the problem was the canned music on repeat. I think it didn't help that the audience was so far away. In Greece you could see them reacting in the same shot as the athletes entering. It must have been thrilling in person, but it was no fun to watch on TV and NBC didn't do much to spice it up. How about some info on the countries? How about letting each country choose it's own music? How about showing us when they actually enter instead of this confusing herding of athletes? But Yao Ming and Lin Hao were absolutely adorable. Did you know Ming means enlightened? 3. Emperor Kobe The U.S. media keeps brown nosing "Le Bronze" James but true basketball fans are all abuzz about what is going on in China with Kobe Bryant. New Orleans superstar point guard Chris Paul said he could only compare it to Beatlemania. LeBron said "I thought I was famous till I came to China with Kobe Bryant." Kobe jerseys are by far the most popular at the events Everywhere he goes he's mobbed by adoring fans. At games they chant MVP. When he was first announced the crowd gasped as one. Apparently he's more popular than Yao Ming. Why?
The Chinese see him as a great example of heart and dedication to craft. Nobody works harder. Nobody tries harder. He transforms himself for the better consistently. Kobe Bryant is like a Shao'lin master. I'm a Kobe fan myself. You'd think as a rape survivor I'd hate him because of Denver. But I have my own theory about what happened there. Anyway I don't admire him because of his personal life, I just take inspiration from his work ethic and focus.
4. Volleyball. My favorite sport to play and thanks to Kerri Walsh my favorite sport to watch. Whoever is manning the camera for NBC is definitely an ass man. All I can say is wow. mama. I bet she can kick like a mule, too.
5. George Bush with his legs sprawled out practically with his hands in his pants like the dad from Married with Children. Apparently he shares my opinion of the women's volleyball team. He was doing the ol' presidential ass grab, and we thought Bill was a horn dog! NBC got this one shot of Bush looking around like a sailor who just got paid on shore leave at a strip bar. Another time he was banging a little American flag on his knee like the biggest bored daddy of them all. The guy is, as usual, having the time of his life. Not a care in the world for this president. Easy, breezy, it's good to be Bush. And I think he was looking for some in those stands, easy breezy bush I mean..
On a more serious note there was a moment when Putin and Bush had their heads together at the opening ceremony. Two days later it hits the news that U.S. troops are transporting Russian troops to Georgia. KGB Putin and son of the CIA head Bush side by side in China. Yikes. Feel that collective shiver from the four billion watching?
6. Endurance Bicycling Extra impressive in that heat but I was fascinated by how much this part of China resembles southern California, it looked like Mulholland Drive, Kanan Road, the area around Malibu. Except how immaculate everything was. I guess it helps to wall off the ghetto as China did as part of its beautification for the Olympics.
7. Go U.S. Basketball! Several players were photographed leaving a brothel. The oppressive heat, the humidity, the stress, shouldn't this be a competition, too? I bet the Greeks had one. Christian historians just wouldn't put that in history books. I wonder what the ratings would have been for that event? And kudos to our U.S. media for not covering it at all. So Chinese. We won't call it censorship, we'll call it polite.
8. Exxon Mobile with their environmentally conscientious and humanitarian TV commercials. After making more money in one quarter than any company in the history of the United States and still getting major tax breaks with more tax breaks planned these guys pretend they give a shit. The funny thing is if you listen carefully you'll notice that their pitch about protecting people from malaria only happened because their own folks got it. They can't hide their obsessive self interest even when trying to appear noble.
But the best part about Exxon Mobile is what should be their new slogan: let the kids clean it up!
PS. How many oil presidents have we had? LBJ. Nixon was Prescott Bush's toadie. Bush 41 for two Reagan terms and then his own. And now two terms of Bush Cheney. Carter got screwed over oil so his presidency hardly counts. So the oil companies have been in charge since at least LBJ. Funny, while America is teetering on a financial disaster every second, the entire world at the brink economically, oil companies are making record profits.
9. Worst joke of the Olympics so far. 400 million Chinese can be Wong. I feel so bad that I laughed.
10. China Most of all I'm glad to have China back. I know there are still huge problems. They are exporting a dangerous form of totalitarian capitalism. I was feeding my cats their poisoned pet food. Tibet.must be free. Darfur must be healed. Bird flu is all the more frightening when you know the Black Plague started in China. I have many issues with the Chinese government and with the sort of cultural traditions that allow hideous mistreatment of animals (and dissent).. But China is the source of so much of the world's civilization: printing, the compass, the animal zodiac, cast iron, forks, noodles, playing cards, fireworks, fishing reels, kites, bristle tooth brushes. printing, porcelain, rice, rudders, silk, collapsible umbrellas, soybeans, star charts, the stirrup, tea, and motherfuckin' toilet paper. We're talking Confucius, Sun Tzu, Lao Tze. I'm really happy that now when humanity is facing the greatest challenges we have ever faced China is all plum blossoms. And did you ask yourself what kind of bird lives in that Bird Nest? Why, a phoenix, of course.
One of my favorite proverbs is Chinese: better to be silent and thought the fool than to speak and remove all doubt. But then I'm an American and we don't know when to shut up so here's my first Top Ten. and I'll do another when I freakin' feel like it. We haven't even talked about food yet, although I did mention the mistreatment of animals. Zing! There you go gracious hosts, they call it trash talk, get used to it my new friends.
If you go to Youtube you can click over to the hi def version of this which is much clearer.
Part of a short set we did for the Rock 'n Read event at Virgin Mega Hollywood on July 13, 2008. The song is by a songwriter I stumbled on here on MySpace: Alex Maranjian (see my top friends). I did mess around with his lyrics though. I got a bunch of friends together to play it with me, right there at the heart of the beast, it seemed like a ritual at the same time somewhat surreal.
It almost looks like we're on SNL! : D
from left to right: Doug: guitar Ronnie: guitar Denise: percussion Tamra: vocal Mardhi: bass Jason: guitar Suzy Sepulveda: vocal Lita: keyboard Justin: guitar
we were going for one of those John Lennon crowd of musicians peace moments, in our own humble way.
You'd think that getting The Gits movie out there would have a sweet afterglow, wouldn't you? I mean, yes, it's a tragedy, but all of us who hold Mia Zapata dear got together and created a shining light to keep the music alive. Now there were some very moving events, for example, Seattle. But in many cities some dark energy hovered around. A friend of mine told the story to a witch he knows. She said it was the lingering energy of the murder, still interfering, still seeking ways to throw shit on the good.
As far as I know no one was physically hurt that night. Most of the trouble seemed to center around bands. In some cities the bands were pretty shitty to each other. You could call it a culture war, or at least a skirmish. In the most poignant example the weird thing is how much the adversaries were alike. Pro-feminist. Pro-loud guitars. Pro-pagan magickal. Pro-racial equality. Pro-Mia! A neocon or fundie standing in front of them would name them the same ilk. But boy would they be wrong!
A flame war erupted online between these two good men and their well meaning friends (I'm not being sarcastic). Their conflict was based on miscommunications and misunderstandings so profound it's like they came from different countries.
Let's take a step back. What is the value of rock music? When rock and roll was born rock shows were the nearest thing to the Internet. You'd go there and encounter people of different races, slang (a code language), you could find sex or drugs, and most of all you could find kin, not of blood, of spirit. On FM radio stations of the golden age DJs could play anything they wanted. You'd hear rock followed by jazz followed by a show tune. Sure there were specialists who zeroed in on specific trends and held all others in disdain, but they were considered "uptight".
These days the rock world has splintered into scenes as exclusive as cultist churches. It was already going on when Lucid Nation started out during the decline of riot grrrl and grunge, but at least at the all ages level there were still promoters like J. Lee and Erin McCarley who would book punk, metal, hip hop, poets, and folkies and then make a point about encouraging those scenes to truly intermingle. Those Sunday matinees at the old Koo's in Santa Ana were a magical moment.
These days even when you book different kinds of bands their fans show up only to see their own. Bands are judged by their hair, clothes, gear, fans, before they ever strum a note. But the divide runs far deeper than fashions of vision and sound.
So, you go see The Gits movie and you attend the after event, a memorial on the anniversary of her murder where bands will be playing Gits songs and songs by other female fronted bands of the era. The DJ plays Girls Girls Girls by Motley Crue. Pretty witty, huh? Plus the song rocks. Kathleen Hanna was there. She had a good time. But if you are or you have ever been a true riot grrrl (or Nirvana fan?) you might be outraged. How could a band who pretty much shrugged when informed that rapes occurred during their set, a band infamous for misogyny, be played at an event to honor a woman who was raped and murdered by a violent misogynist?
Some of you will think that's getting awfully "uptight" and esoteric about a party in honor of a fallen comrade. Talk about your scene splitting! Others will shake their heads at the desecration of what could have been a pure moment of memorial. Many will wonder why it should matter so much to anyone. Well, rape of women, men and children is epidemic in our world, and victims of those crimes carry a heightened sensitivity about these things. You can bet the scene that was offended by Girls Girls Girls included abuse and rape survivors.
Of course that was far from the only issue. The usual culprits: ageism as in promoters and clubs who view under eighteen kids as a pain in the ass. And kids who use "old" like an executioner's sword (old meaning five years older than you).
I've heard many a former all ages club owner bemoan the violence and vandalism of kids with cameras in their hands. But just because some kids do that kind of shit doesn't mean they all do. And don't we still have some responsibility to keep the roots of our music alive? How old were you when rock music liberated you? I was thirteen. Should kids have to wait five years, eight years, to attend and play shows that really matter to them? It hurts Lucid Nation (at least in LA) that we turn down 18+ shows (and competitions, showcases, and pay to play). But I can't stand the idea that a kid who wants to see me play is locked outside that door. That isn't rock and roll to me. But I would never expect another band to feel the same way. Every band has the right to choose how to live and what to represent.
Even words have opposite meanings in these scenes. In one the word "professional" is said with a sneer and it's a deep insult, right up there with "corporate." In the other scene these words are to be striven for and taken pride in. It means you're good enough and together enough to earn your living at your art. They're both right and they're both wrong, you know what I mean?
I'm not going to belabor the point by listing more examples. You get the idea. It would have been sweet if these scenes could have united in memory of Mia. She had a good energy that way. She attracts so many different kinds of people, that's part of the beauty of The Gits. Instead the fracture is exposed between people who in most other ways are like minded. The hostility, the snipery, brought out the sort of viewers who set up picnics to watch the beginning of the Civil War.
For me, as a survivor, it was strange to watch two men fight over Mia's memorial. It makes me think of what that witch said. The residual energy from the murder. If they're worth their pagan salt they'll do rituals to purify and banish this shadow on the legacy of The Gits.
Anyway that's why I think scenes suck. Especially now when they've become so exclusive they can't even communicate anymore. I can't help but feel that this is one reason America teeters on the edge of disaster. Does that sound ridiculous? Back in the day, music led the way. Music was about unity. Now we're a bunch of helpless subcultures scratching and hissing at each other while the big dogs carve up our world. There's no support for each other so there's no power. No one ever hears about great art because no one gives a shit about what happens outside their fence. Is this because we all grew up on gangsta rap? Or are we all so insecure and damaged that we need tribes and borders to feel safe enough to function? We're all in gangs now. Even a cracker like me. WTF
All I know is the irony is rich. A feud by the grave of Mia Zapata. The fractured remains of the power that was rock at the grave of a girl who had the power to unite scenes. One more mad image to add to the sad legacy of a band born under a bad sign; a beyond Robert Johnson kind of tragedy, don't you think?
I was almost murdered. Mia was. Why I covered Second Skin.
The Gits movie has it's premiere July 7, the anniversary of Mia's murder, one week from today. Go here for screening information: http://www.myspace.com/thegitsmovie
A couple years a go I contacted Steve Moriarty through MySpace to ask him if it would be okay if Lucid Nation covered Second Skin, the signature Gits song. I explained to him that I had been abducted into a car, raped, and nearly beaten to death by a stranger when I was in tenth grade. I survived because when I realized he was driving to a cemetery I grabbed the wheel and almost killed us swerving into traffic. That scared him so he let me go.
Steve said we could cover Second Skin. But I never got around to it. It's hard to face your memories of almost being murdered and whenever I hear or think about Mia I feel my own near fate. Late last year Steve introduced us to the director and producer of The Gits movie to see if we could help them out.
We loved the film. We helped bring in Danny Goldberg's Gold Village Entertainment to do a new cut. We tried to get grunge stars but couldn't. I couldn't believe Joan Jett and Kathleen Hanna's people were blocking us. So I turned to you our MySpace friends. Within twenty minutes we had Kathleen and Joan!
Not long ago Steve Moriarty got in touch. He wanted to play Second Skin live with me. I said let's record it first.
When we sit across from each other at the table there is a whole conversation happening even when we're silent. I'm like Mia's ghost or sister or something to him, someone who faced what she faced but lived to talk about it. He's the one left behind, the flag bearer, still carrying the torch for an extinguished revolution. I love the 90's Courtney Love but you can't help imagining what it would have been like to have Mia at the helm instead.
I can't tell you the courage it took for Steve to do this. He walked into a room full of strangers. He sat down at a drum kit he never played before. My guitarist Justin happens to own the same year Silverburst Les Paul as Joe Spleen. I saw Steve look at that guitar like a man in a dream. Steve had not played Second Skin for thirteen years.
He struggled against his emotions, the strange kit, the incredible demands of his own parts written at the height of adrenaline. I was moved by his dedication, his nobility, as he made sure we got that one good take whatever the cost.
For me, singing Mia's words, fighting through the almost silence that had surrounded me in those moments so near death, I felt she was with us, and this was my ritual of thanks to her, of sisterhood in survival, my promise we would never let her voice or her songs die.
I've had some very intense and amazing recording experiences but nothing like this. It brings tears to my eyes just writing about it.
I don't want to go to The Gits movie premiere, even though I'm associate producer, because every time I see the film I go back into shock, and I don't want to to go into shock in public. So I send this song.
Steve will need your love this week and next, as North America mourns Mia in dark movie theaters and lighter vigils from Los Angeles to Seattle to Louisville to Orlando to Edmonton to New York City. If you can't attend, light a candle for Mia and for the end of the rape culture.
1. One Unconscious Tic Too Many Yesterday a friend of mine sent me a sentimental chain letter about supporting the troops with lots of pictures: kitten, cross, crying, babies. And the only representative of the peace movement was the Phelps church with their god hates fags posters. This provoked a tirade that I mailed not only to her but also to everyone she had mailed the chain letter to. Here's what I wrote.
What a bunch of sentimental stereotypical bullshit though I did find the use of the Phelps church protesters as a representative antiwar photo interestingly conniving. Chain letter superstitions don't help the soldiers. You want to help the soldiers? Demand they be given quality armored vests and vehicles that are fully armored. Pay them decent wages instead of relying on Blackwater mercenaries who make ten times or more what our soldiers make. Stop the chronic rape and abuse of female soldiers. Stop reducing the benefits of our veterans back home and trying to reclassify their crippling post traumatic stress as a personal problem the VA doesn't have to treat. Stop surrounding our soldiers with inept bureaucrats who enrich themselves at tax payer expense while allowing Iraq to wallow without water and electricity. And stop pretending that all soldiers are kitten holding Christians, some of them are vicious sadists. Go look at the Youtube videos of our men throwing dogs off cliffs and Iraqis off bridges. War isn't a noble crusade, it's hell.
I thought this war was stupid and dishonest from the start. But we're there now and I pray something good can come of it for us all. Please do something real to help our men and women in service. love Tamra
Now I really like this girl, she's a really good person. Talented, too. And I lit into her like a misbehavin' pit bull. But you see, I had a week of nothin' but dissin' from women for no good damn reason. Downright rudeness. My art and myself ignored, even my name misspelled for posterity in a book. I remembered why riot grrrl called the media blackout, and the favorite quote of a late friend of mine: No good deed goes unpunished. Unfortunately Nadia was the one who happened to toss an inadvertent match into that pile of nasty rags. Sorry Nadia and friends~
2. So who were the rags that made the pile that caused the match to start the fire? I hate being dismissed as an angry loudmouth moron blonde, especially by an arrogant hippie woman talking about Goddess while preaching daddy's gospel. I guess she thought I didn't notice how she felt about me. Why would she think I was hostile?
Could it have been when I referred to her guru as the guy with a big fuck off beard like in the Bible? I said it was an Eddie Izzard quote! And he did have one! Maybe her purity of life and purpose was offended by my chains moking menthols and brutish punkisms. At least I didn't tell her her guru is wrong about which is the oldest name of god.
I'm pretty sure the CD I gave her of Lucid Nation sealed the deal. It's weird, some hippies really dig my shit. Like Randy Roark. Randy thinks I'm a genius. So there. Oh, and I insulted him, too.
3. How I insulted Randy. Randy is the nicest guy. He works at Naropa Institute. He was Allen Ginsberg's go to guy for years, and also worked for William Burroughs. He's a well respected poet and editor and former DJ with a legendary psychedelic rock show. Randy's reviews and correspondence were an education to me. He took my obsession with Kerouac's recorded voice into realms of spontaneous lyrical creation by introducing me to Gertrude Stein's work. I didn't know who she was when he compared my work to hers.
So I was having this party and Nitebob was here from New York. Nitebob is currently Steely Dan's tour manager. He's the guy who gave James Williamson a Les Paul to play on Raw Power. He toured on the first Dolls tour and the last one, too. He brought one of Keith Richards friends with him to the party, an urbane Brit with a West Coast sensibility.
Since they like my music they share the secrets and memories with me that few are privvy to. So when gentle Randy showed up all the way from Colorado did I talk to him? Hell, no? Why? Because I'm too angry for poetry. I want to hear about rock and roll.
I love Allen Ginsberg and Bill Burroughs, any other day I would have sat entranced listening to Randy but I wanted to hear the war stories of the great rockers. I wanted to argue about my choice to not collaborate with corporations. Randy just wanted to have a pleasant conversation and wound up in the clutches of our then bass player who poured out her troubles upon him. Cool thing about Randy is, he is such a fan of rock and roll, that he not only understood, but also endorsed my rude behavior. Rock and roll burns low these days and you have to grab the sparks where you can.
4. I have this relative who is the perfect passive aggressive. Here's one more rag on the pile. She's been through a lot, motherfuckers. A lot more than you could handle. I couldn't handle it. I gave her a gift she asked for. An ugly old painting of a bent over washwoman that hung in a dingy room in a hateful house for thirty years. She was warned about the condition.
A month later she calls me to bitch about it. She has that you are such a loser tone. "It's damaged." I want to say, "Yeah, by the artist. What kind of subject is that? That's a painting that causes back aches just looking at it. An old peasant washing rags in a rotting tub. Gooten times."
I didn't say it. Part of the reason I sent that rant was because I didn't yell directly at my aunt. There's some lyrics for y'all.
5. The Courtney Love Halloween Incident After recording Tacoma Ballet with us, Patty Schemel was staying at our house while rehearsing with Courtney. I got a good seat at the Greek for Jane's Addiction with Courtney opening. She was a spectacle, of course, and even stood in my seat for a moment to rant at the audience holding a sign in her hands I couldn't read.
The next night was Halloween. I decided to make an homage of it. I wore Stevie Nicks style clothes, curled my hair, put on pretty sparkle makeup and carried a sign that said I'm Courtney Love Please Help Me. I was a hit at the West Hollywood promenade, with Ronnie in tow as the ugliest riot grrrl ever.
The highlight was running into two people in Kurt and Courtney height of grunge costumes in front of The Palms. Courtney me and Courtney her went into impromptu rants, circling each other from different eras while Kurt crumbled in the background and we both told him to shut up at the same time.
As I strolled laughing, loving the magic of West Hollywood promenade, Courtney's webmaster snapped shots of me with the sign. I heard down the grapevine pretty quick that did not go over very well. I didn't mean anything bad by it. Is that why they call me hostile?
6. Incensing the drummer. I have probably ten stories about drummers. Spinal Tap has nothin' on me. For some reason drummers like to break down and confess to me. I'm a father confessor and all the big daddy's break down to me. But this is a different kind of drummer story.
I had this drummer who really fucking hated it that I would sit cross-legged on the floor to sing during rehearsal. She felt I wasn't putting out any effort. I got us a record contract, south by southwest ASCAP showcase, and a tour but I wouldn't fuckin' stand up in rehearsal. Now since I was told by other band members that I really should stand up, I didn't. Fuckers. Who are they to tell me what to do? What? The drummer's the only one allowed to sit? Who died and made her queen? That's not what broke the band up, but it didn't help any.
7. Now people, I have a past. I had a neglectful, dominating boyfriend once. One of those high school date rape turns into a relationship things. My dad died. I was fucked up, really lonely and I really needed to forget. I knew this other guy, decent looking, cool enough, had drugs, nice car. So I went over there and I fucked him. And it was my boyfriend's cousin. I realize now the time bomb I planted that would someday go off at holiday dinner table. Dudes, I snicker when I think about that. Is that hostile? Oh hells yes.
8. Hostile compassion. I'm not sure which incident when I laughed while Ronnie suffered would be the most hostile. Slight injuries, deaths in the family, I've laughed at them all. The good thing is he usually starts laughing, too.
9. I had a super hostile aggressive masculine radical Marxist gay brother ten years older than me. He decided to throw his radical Maoist lover into the pick up and head back to Kentucky to find our roots. What a dipshit. On the dirty back window of his pick up truck with my finger I wrote My Old Kentucky Homo just before they left.
I got a call from Bakersfield about ninety minutes later. I'm going to kill you you little fucking cunt, he said. People had been pointing and laughing for miles. In the background I heard his lover laughing helplessly. Was that hostile? I thought they'd see it.
10. Oh fuck I threw my mother out on Xmas Day and I'm still laughing about it. God, she was the meanest old bitch. The most passive aggressive bitch in my world. I don't even remember what she did I just knew she had to leave. I do remember Ronnie and I fleeing to a park where he had to talk me down from whatever frenzy had been inspired by her "why aren't you pregnant and married" mantra. She hated sex. My dad liked sex and cheated. I look like my dad and I like sex. She hated me. That's all I've been able to figure out about it.
I remember my brother's furious face as he carried her luggage down the hall, her enema bag half hanging out of her valise. It was the last time I ever saw her. Why do I think that's funny? Is it because I'm hostile?
The Gits movie review! + my comments on grunge star douchery
The review is dated 6-08 but I think it may be older and referring to an old cut of the film since some key new interviews aren't mentioned.
The critic's only complaint is that none of the Seattle "heavy hitters" participated. For the record, we tried to get Eddie Vedder and the rest of Pearl Jam, we talked to Krist, and to Dave Grohl's manager. We had executive producer Danny Goldberg's help getting through all their blockers. They all turned us down.
We didn't ask Courtney because we were sensitive to the hostility many grunge fans feel toward her and we didn't want to poke a stick into a beehive; Courtney has enough problems. Krist hates being interviewed on film so him I understand but the rest of 'em I don't know what to say, you draw your own conclusions. They must have known their participation could have brought Mia greater attention from their fan bases, apparently they didn't care.
But hey thanks to you, especially Papa Sean, we got Kathleen Hanna and Joan Jett for the film! I'll take them over stinky ol grunge boys any day : ) Tamra
more info go to http://www.myspace.com/thegitsmovie
The Gits are one of those bands that many have heard of, but few have actually heard. The Ohio-based band relocated, ultimately springing out of the burgeoning Pacific Northwest music scene during the fertile 1990s, when Nirvana was breaking. The future was blinding for the Gits, who shifted away from the region's unpolished grunge sound in favor of gnarly punk rock. Their charismatic singer, Mia Zapata, generated plenty of heat and friction with her smoky, bluesy pipes and her spindly frame, which earned her the nickname "Chicken Woman." Things were abruptly and tragically snuffed out when Zapata was brutally raped and murdered in 1993.
The Gits is a documentary that attempts to capture the essence of the band from its zygotic stages to its untimely demise. The doc doesn't focus solely on sensational material, namely the mystery that went unsolved for 15 years regarding the gritty details of Zapata's death. Rather, director Kerri O'Kane takes a standard chronological look at the band's steady uprising in the Seattle music scene. It's a smart directorial choice, since The Gits always flew just under the radar, never breaking into mainstream music culture like many of their regional peers. It's also a warm reminder and celebration of the initial boon of alternative music and its accompanying culture, which has been waning in recent years.
As for The Gits, the band received most of its press in the aftermath of Zapata's murder, so O'Kane captures slices of band life and lets viewers get to know Mia and her bandmates. Footage of the dreadlock-ed, somewhat androgynous Mia thrashing about onstage with her Doc Martens is crushing, as she drips passionate energy and is so blissfully unaware of the fate that's about to befall her. The Gits is a crash course on the band, with the juxtaposition of photos and performance of the band then and the recollection of the individual members years later bringing things full circle. The question "Whatever happened to...?" is sufficiently answered, pertaining to Mia and her mates.
Of course, all roads lead to Mia and it can't be denied that she's what all eyes are drawn to. She's the sparkplug charging the band, thanks to her intimidating presence which is effectively demonstrated in archival footage. She is shown as she was: crusty and hardly feminine, a true punk rocker who strutted the strut and sang the song. There are no classic interviews with Zapata—just live performances and some infrequent onstage banter with the crowd, which puts the burden on O'Kane to bring her to life. She does this cleverly through her peripheral interview subjects. 7 Year Bitch drummer Valerie Agnew, who is no shrinking violet herself, cops to being in awe of Mia and her room-filling personality when 7YB was borrowing The Gits' equipment to practice with. These interviews bring Mia into focus and shape a more intimate perception of her, since most viewers only knew her from afar, if at all. These chats humanize Mia more than the footage does. Mia's father is interviewed, remembering her joyously, which is a little unsettling, given the film's somber pallor. But, then again, everyone deals with pain differently.
The film doesn't stray far from a traditional documentary structure of humble beginnings, climax, and crescendo. The Gits' climax was their crescendo, but it's not Mia's. The documentary demonstrates how her presence and spirit lives on, detailing the benefits and thriving charities that were established in order to fund efforts to reopen Mia's cold case. Her killer is eventually caught, the first crime ever solved through salival DNA in Washington State.
The only criticism befalling the doc is that none of Seattle's former heavy hitters were interviewed. Maybe they declined. Maybe the filmmakers wanted to retain the independent spirit of their project. Maybe former grunge diva Courtney Love banned anyone from going on record. But in an insular scene and a culture of artistry, one would think that someone that crossed into the mainstream would participate and ruminate on the past. Other than that, O'Kane and the surviving Gits do justice to Mia Zapata just fine.
Riot Grrrl: We Thought It Would Take Over the World
ah, it's so cute! Ronnie wrote this for a riot grrrl zine when we were a baby band.
Riot Grrrl ...
What Is a Riot Grrrl? And Why is a Male Writing about it?
by Ronnie Pontiac (of Lucid Nation)
To understand what a riot grrrl is, you should know that May 21, 1997 CBS News reported that rape occurs every sixty seconds in the United States. Every sixty seconds a female's life is shattered, along with the lives of her loved ones. Usually when such statistics are mentioned, chauvinistic males claim they are grossly exaggerated. Well, the FBI compiled 16,000 reports by law enforcement agencies and the number of reported and confirmed cases has risen 128% since 1972; they arrived at one rape every five minutes. The National Crime Victimization Survey conducted by the U.S. Bureau of the Census reported one rape every three and a half minutes. When the Crime Victim Research and Treatment Center conducted their National Women's Study they found that only one out of six rapes is ever reported. Whatever the statistics, I suggest you conduct a survey of your female friends so you can be shocked by how many have been victims of this crime.
To understand what a riot grrrl is, you should know that in our allegedly free capitalist economy, women are paid seventeen cents an hour less on average for the same work, and of course that's educated white women (unless they work in the arts where they are even more underpaid). The average african american or other ethnic minority woman makes thirty cents or less to the dollar. Outside our borders women work for pennies an hour or day, consistently underpaid. Growing up in a world where all media shows an extremely narrow band of stereotypes they must fit or be ridiculed, 150,000 American women starve themselves to death yearly, so hypnotized are they by a stereotype they feel they can almost achieve.
On the CD player Snoop calls them "bitches" and in every high school they are treated as such. Meanwhile, Midol is confiscated as a drug. What a bleak life most young women have to look forward to. Love and children are offered as the saving creed, but domestic abuse is one of the most under-reported and frequent crimes.
Riot Grrrl happened in Olympia, Washington as the eighties turned into the nineties. Some students at Evergreen College, all female, mostly white, began applying feminism to the arts. Bands were formed like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile, and Excuse 17.
A zine revolution was born as scissors, a glue stick, a typewriter, and a friend at a copy shop or in an office with a xerox machine, were utilized to create mini magazines circulated at first by friends and then all over the world. Poster artists, poets, and every other kind of artist joined together to talk about the truth of their lives in an oppressive and dangerous society.
Supposedly, the term Riot Grrrl was born when a young woman pointed out that if any other group of human beings were so viciously treated, and suffered as much violence, and across the board discrimination, there would be riots in the streets. Thus: Riot Grrrl, a girl who lives her life knowing she's in a war, instead of waking up to a day when tragic horror shatters denial.
Riot Grrrl became so popular in the next couple years, the media began to report on it as a hot new trend. The leading figures of Riot Grrrl, or at least the most popular, were so completely misquoted, misrepresented, and merchandised that they called for a media black out. The entire movement disappeared. Predictably the media announced that it was a fad that died. But in fact with great discipline it retained its independence. In the summer of 1996 there were nine Riot Grrrl conventions in the U.S., gatherings of hundreds of mostly high school and college girls to hear their bands, to learn self defense in two hour workshops, to share secrets and resources and the inspiration of discovering so many allies.
There are Riot Grrrls in Spain now, in Guam, Argentina, and Taiwan. Some places like Washington D.C. have highly active and organized chapters which keep archives. L.A. has a loose confederation of Riot Grrrl sympathizers who meet at certain band's shows, trade e mail from across the country, and white girls are the minority.
RG music has evolved in new ways, with Olympia favoring primitive punk or lilting harmonies, often with an ironic midwestern style, while L.A. prefers a more punk/metal flavor. This is, of course, an oversimplification. Riot Grrrl has been marginalized as fashion, it has been dismissed as a dyke dating pool, and ridiculed as the whining of unpopular girls who didn'tget enough attention when they were children, but Riot Grrrl really is the beginning of an evolution, as for the first time in history a great nation's women are beginning to stir and communicate and realize that they have the right and the power to demand and achieve a society of greater equality, with sensitivity to ecology, and respect for individuality.
Feel free to ask questions. I'll answer them when I get the chance. If you read deeper into my blog you'll find some detailed gear reviews and experiences.
For Singers:
When I was on my way into the studio for the first time Kathleen Hanna gave me this advice. Bring your favorite record. Play it for the engineer so everybody's clear on what you want to sound like. Most singers get freaked out when they first hear their voices in the mix. We're always surprised how hi in the mix the voice is. Listen to all your favorite bands, you'll be surprised how far above the other instruments the voice is. So don't try to bury your voice in the mix!
Super expensive mics like Neumanns or Area51s are a thing of beauty no doubt but they're also extremely sensitive and fragile. Many great singers recorded using good ol' Shure SM57s and 58s, including Bono. Bono likes to sing in the control home facing the monitors instead of in a booth. Only 57s gave him the combination of hand held comfort and a focused recording field (this mic is designed not to pick up the music behind and around it).
Pitch correction can make you sound like a dolphin. Think hard before you use it. Sometimes I deliberately leave the occasional clunker in my songs to emphasize an emotion, to prove the vocal is real and unvarnished, it's like the Japanese idea that the little crack in the cup makes it more perfect. If you do use it use it sparingly. Or crank it up and you can do a Cher vocal! Hip hop producers sometimes use pitch correction cranked to get a certain funky phasing on backing vocals.
If there's a Pultec in the studio use it on your voice. Bass, too. Hell, use it on everything.
For Guitiarists:
Tiny amps sound better cranked than huge amps, at least in most recording situations. Many of the best and most huge tones on Led Zeppelin records came from a small Supro combo in an echoey bathroom. My guitarist Ronnie has a tiny Supro with aqua tolex and a brown label Jensen speaker, early 60's, and that things roars when recorded. Part of the reason is big amps push big air and part of the experience in the room is that air hitting you, but the mic doesn't get that, you wind up with something thin and ask yourself where's the boom?
Most recording engineers want to leave you out when the drum track or drums and bass track are recorded. Guitars, even cranked through small amps, bleed through as much or more than cymbals. But if you always play with your rhythm section and you need that energy, if you get nervous about having to hit the click track by yourself in the phones, fuck it! Really great records have been recorded with the whole band going. The Stooges classic Funhouse was recorded like a live gig, the band at full roar with Iggy singing through a P.A. The engineer miced the whole band and the room instead of trying to get pristine, separate tracks for later editing ease.
Change your strings a couple rehearsals before you record and don't buy that bullshit that real guitarists change their strings for every song. Back in the day alot of pot was smoked in recording studios and one symptom is obsessiveness about tiny details no one else can pick out.
Don't keep asking the mixing engineer to turn you up louder. You the drummer, bass player, singer and every and any one else will wind up chasing each other up the mix until the mix is shit and the engineer pissed. Guitars and vocals cut through better than bass in most mixes. Remember you won't be listening through big high quality studio monitors. Burn a rough mix to CD and listen to it in the car. Or burn an MP3 and listen on your iPod. Familiarity with the way your favorite listening gear sounds is a big help figuring out where a mix needs to go.
Don't believe it when they tell you only primo vintage or boutique gear is the shit. Kurt Cobain got great sounds with a decent Fender and simple amp and speakers, his pedals gave him his sound, his pedals, his attack, his finger pressure. I heard an old black Blues guitarist tell Ronnie he could make any guitar or amp give up his sound because his sound was all in his hands.
For Bass players:
Plug into the board. If you have the luxury of getting your bad ass rig miced do that too, but always go into the board. If there's a Pultec or a Fairchild in the studio go through that before you go into the board. The Chandler Germ is a nice bass preamp for boom and growl, if they have one try it out. Ask if they have a Drawmer Distressor, or a Drawmer 1968 or 1969, those can add a lot to bass, too.
Make sure they don't lose you in the mix! In the studio the monitors are tweaked and everybody thinks you're too damn loud. Make sure you listen to the mixes on speakers or phones you know well, whatever the quality, and fight for your right to be heard in the mix.
Being heard isn't necessarily a volume thing. Dare to fiddle with the pan button during the mix. You'll be amazed how your bass disappears or stands out according to placement. Find the right spot and you'll be heard. Don't let the guitarists or vocalists bury you under a gazillion overdub tracks for "thickness" or "orchestration." The result is usually mid range muck without you to move the song along.
If they have a spectacular bass like a Fifties or early 60s Fender Precision or Jazz bass try it out! Even more than guitarists bass players cling to the instrument they know even if it's a piece of shit. But when you hear what a real bass sounds like, the perfect growl, the crunch, the roundness of the sound, it will bring out of you a whole new level of playing. Don't be afraid to draw Excalibur! I do believe this to be truer of basses than guitars. A good rig can make a shitty guitar sound amazing, but a bass sounds best when its true voice rings through.
But! Don't be afraid to try pedals. A Pro-Co Rat distortion pedal besides delivering head splitting crunch when cranked can be turned up just a little to give a bass growl. It's a trick I used when all I had to record with was a shitty bass and the results are pretty cool. Other distortion pedals give different effects to bass, some like an old Ibanez Tube Screamer, a Burn Unit, or Fuzz Factory, but to my ear the Rat comes closest to giving that P bass growl, with the Tube Screamer in second place.
Volume won't do you much good in the studio. I had a gigantic Acoustic bass rig with an 18" folded horn (and aqua formica panel!). Awesome tone! You see them on stage in videos of Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Santana, everybody used them. But in the studio all that boom was lost and all I got was a thin reedy plunk. The much smaller amp I rented sounded ten times bigger. So don't be afraid to experiment!
For Drummers:
If you hate the click track don't play with one. We're human beings not robots. If it really bugs the producer he can used Beat Detective to fix the tempo in ProTools.
Use fresher if not fresh drum skins, it really makes a difference. And tune those puppies!
While it's nice to mic inside the kick and outside, over and under the snare, two overheads, a mic on each tom, it's also nice to mic the sound of the kit in the room with two to four mics. Bonham's biggest beats were recorded that way. He used to say he didn't want the individual drums recorded, he wanted the kit recorded.
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