Dear Darling Ones,

The best thing about being a work from home freelancer is that it affords me very much time to daydream. Instead of commuting to work, I daydream. Instead of getting a case of the Mondays, I let my mind wander through my favorite subjects: books, music, and making out with men. Rather than attend meetings, I daypanic about imminent climate disaster. This last one is zero percent fun.

Today while arguing with my Twitter pals about the unevenness of Paul Westerberg’s 2003 record “Come Feel Me Tremble,” I wished for the 82,198,591st time that I had more women to talk about The Replacements with. This is not a slight on my much-beloved dude Westernerds. I adore them, but I still wish ‘Mats fandom was more female-friendly and that once in awhile a woman got to be an expert on the band.

At the same time I thought, wouldn’t an all-female tribute to The Replacements be the greatest thing to ever happen to rock & roll? This kind of tribute with zero dudes involved would be so excellent. It would introduce girls to the band. It would let women talk about The ‘Mats in a way that had zero to do with wanking off about the shitty production of “Tim” or about who the cute one was/is. And for sure a woman would get to write the liner notes because we’re done with letting one dude be the ‘Mats expert.

I was a little surprised how quickly my imaginary track list came together. Here it is

Angel Olsen, Can’t Hardly Wait

My brain started with Olsen because she recently covered Safety Dance and she has a covers EP coming out in a few weeks.

Phoebe Bridgers, If Only You Were Lonely

She already covered Here Comes a Regular at First Ave a few years ago, so just imagine how much she would slay this one.

Neko Case, Bastards of Young

Something about Case’s song “Man” made me think she’d do an interesting take on this one.

Lucinda Williams, Achin’ to Be

The first time I saw Westerberg at the Guthrie in 2000 he sang the last line she’s achin to be, just like Lucinda and me. So this one is obvious.

Amanda Shires, Within Your Reach

The synthy intro on the original made me think of Shires’ “Parking Lot Pirouette.”

Lydia Loveless, Sixteen Blue

Loveless does that aching, conflicted, longing thing so well.

Joan Jett, I Bought a Headache

She already did “Androgynous.” Just imagine her growling giving me a eight dollar and fifty cent, I bought a headache.

Liz Phair, Answering Machine

I think Liz could interpret this sad song into something kind of sexy and I’m mad that I can’t hear it right now.

Laura Marling, Unsatisfied

The woman who sings “False Hope” will bring the same plaintive desperation to “Unsatisfied” that Westerberg does.

Japanese Breakfast, Little Mascara

In my head I want her to treat this one just like her “Savage Good Boy.”

Julien Baker, Here Comes a Regular

This cover doesn’t exist as far as I know, but I can hear Baker singing it in my head and it gives me gooebumps. Just imagine the woman who sings I’ll wrap Orion’s belt around my neck and kick the chair out singing You’re like a picture on the fridge that’s never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house. Ugh, I could already cry.

The Linda Lindas, Kids Don’t Follow

These are the young women who sing “Racist, Sexist Boy.”

Morgan Wade, Alex Chilton

I’m pretty new to Wade’s music, and I really like how she sounds on “Wilder Days.” I think she could give Alex a good go.

Kathleen Edwards, Skyway

“Hockey Skates” is lovely and feels Minnesotan (though Edwards is Canadian), kinda like “Skyway.”

Jenny Lewis, Left of the Dial

This one felt really obvious to me.

Waxahatchee, I Will Dare

This is, obviously, the most coveted honor of all. My life needs to hear her sing “I Will Dare” the same way she sings west memphis is on fire in the light of day.

boygenius, Valentine

This was Wolfdogg’s suggestion that was so good I had to include it. Their cover of “Cowboy Take Me Away” is so wonderful you know they’d bring that to “Valentine.”

The Go-Go’s, Kiss Me on the Bus

This was Westernerd Chris’ suggestion that was so good and obvious I’m a little angry I didn’t think of it on my own before he did.

Is this manifesting, Darling Ones? I have put this wish out in the world so now the universe can make it happen.

Dibs on writing the liner notes,
Jodi

The post Playing Makeup, Wearing Guitar: My Dream All-Woman Tribute to The Replacements appeared first on I Will Dare.

Hello Darling Ones,

While I was doing my taxes last night one of my twitter pals expressed an interest in my Top 10 Music Memoirs List. Because the only two things I need to do are make potato salad and work on The Beast, making this list is what they like to call productive procrastination.

Before we get to the list, I broadened the category. I’ve read a lot of memoirs by musicians. A lot. Maybe forty? Fifty? I’ve read twenty-six memoirs just by female musicians. Tonight I’ll be starting Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. I’m on the library’s hold list for Brandi Carlile’s Broken Horses.

I’ve also read memoirs by men too. From Keith Richards and Pete Townshend to Bob Mould and Ben Folds.

Here’s the thing, a lot of musician memoirs are shockingly similar. The only thing that really changes are the dates. So yeah, I broadened the category to include nonfiction books about music or musicians.

One more caveat: I did not include Trouble Boys Bob Mehr’s biography of The Replacements because it is fucking boring. Scandalous! But if you really want to know where everyone who ever met the ‘Mats was born and where they went to high school, this book is for you. Did you know Tommy Stinson’s grandma was from Shakopee? You would if you read Trouble Boys.

Also missing is Michael Azerad’s Our Band Could Be Your Life, which I need to revisit. It’s been nearly twenty-years since I read it, so my memory may be fuzzy, but I’m pretty sure there are absolutely zero women in the book. None. I know none of the bands featured include women, so it doesn’t make the list.

I only mention these two books because they’re the ones I expect to get the most flack for not including. Also, one more preemptive shut-up. Yes, I know about Lester Bangs. And Robert Christgau. And Greil Marcus.

Wanna know what else I know? Men have been writing about and controlling the story of rock & roll since its inception. They’re the ones who choose what is good, what is bad, what is lauded, and what is forgotten. That is some bullshit. As I always say when someone gets all horny about The Beatles or The Stones being the greatest of all time, “It’s not hard to be the best when you only compete against other white men.”

So, now, on with the show!

1. Out of the Vinyl Deeps: Ellen Willis on Rock Music by Ellen Willis

This book changed the way I think about and consume rock & roll. I read in the spring of 2012 and it caused a paradigm shift in my soul. I often joke that I’m unsure about God, but I believe in Ellen Willis and thus she is my deity of choice. What I love about her writing is the social and political context she gives the music she writes about. And it’s so refreshing to get that context through a feminist point of view (rather than the male sexual gaze)

2. Kicking & Dreaming: A Story of Heart, Soul, and Rock and Roll by Ann & Nancy Wilson

This one is so damn fun. I love that Ann and Nancy tell the story of Heart. I love that we learn there is another Wilson sister who is not in the band. I love the stories of pre-grunge Seattle and touring with ALLLL those dudes. I love that they talk about sexism and fatphobia and being in Seattle right before grunge broke. But my favorite is they are the first of all the women I’ve read who talked about wanting to be a Beatle and not marry a Beatle (this is a recurring theme in a lot of memoirs by women).

3. Rat Girl by Kristen Hersh

Quoting myself here: “If you’ve ever felt music was your religion or your life or had a deep, confusing, inexplicable relationship with Rock & Roll you should read this book. While I believe Hersh’s relationship with music is wholly unique to her, she writes about it in such a way that it gives those of us who have yet to find the words hope that those words are still out there.” She has a new memoir out too. My cup overflows.

4. Just Kids by Patti Smith

Come on! This probably the most lauded, awarded music memoir of all time. Justifiably so.

5. It’s a Long Story: My Life by Willie Nelson

Wanna know what’s so good about Willie Nelson’s memoir? He leaves out all the boring shit. This doesn’t happen a lot when men write their stories (see: Townshend, Richards, Mould). It’s folksy as fuck and has so many fun facts! Charlie Pride sent him his first email! Tons of ’em about “Pancho & Lefty” I won’t spoil for you. It’s a super fun read.

6. Let’s Go (So We Can Get Back): A Memoir of Recording and Discording with Wilco, Etc. by Jeff Tweedy

Hi. I feel like I have not shut up about this book since I read it in March. I talk about it a lot, almost as much as the Sylvia Plath biography. This one is such a great read because Tweedy is funny, self-deprecating, a little catty, totally vulnerable, and smart.

7. My Own Devices: True Stories from the Road on Music, Science, and Senseless Love by Dessa

You know that sentence that I wrote about the Jeff Tweedy memoir? Same goes for the Dessa minus the catty but make the smart, super smart. I’ve read this one three times. There’s a passage where she writes about singing with Aby Wolf that when I read it I get goosebumps and when I talk about it to people my throat clogs with tears. It’s that beautiful.

8. Queens of Noise: The Real Story of the Runaways by Evelyn McDonnell

I fell in love with Joan Jett when I was eight or ten or whatever age it was I discovered her cover of “Crimson & Clover.” I fell hard. So hard that at my 40th birthday party, childhood BFF Jodi Hanson glared at my cousin Laurie and asked, “Were you the one with the “Crimson & Clover” forty-five?” I played the song a lot. This biography of The Runaways blew my mind. There was so much I didn’t know and, again, McDonnell gave me so much context for the band I didn’t have before.

9. Nobody Ever Asked Me about the Girls: Women, Music and Fameby Lisa Robinson

This book is a lot. There’s an entire chapter about rape and sexual assault and how that played out in some women’s music. There’s also chapters about marriage and sex and babies and Lisa Robinson never fails to point out the hypocrisy in how men never get asked these kinds of questions. Go for the Madonna-snark and stay for the keen insight on how female musicians are portrayed in the media.

10. Janis: Her Life and Music by Holly George-Warren

I think this book was so revelatory because it was the first time I experienced Janis outside of the male gaze. George-Warren presents her as a flawed, complicated woman with all the care her story needed and never seemed to get.

I could probably make a list of Top 10 Fiction Music Books, and I might.

For now, it’s time to make the potato salad,
Jodi

The post The COVID Diaries: Top 10 Nonfiction Music Books appeared first on I Will Dare.

Howdy Darling Ones,

After thirty-two days of solitude I spent time with some humans yesterday. I’m fucking exhausted about it too, not just because I’m an introvert who is out of practice being around people, but because my smoke alarms started screaming at 5:18 a.m. Sunday morning and that interrupted my sleep.

I never did figure out why the smoke alarms kept going off each time the heat kicked off for like two hours, but eventually it stopped. I spent a lot of time pressing random buttons on various smoke detectors. At some point I’m sure I won’t tense up whenever my furnace stops blowing.

After that panicky excitement I spent the day cooking and moving the Sadness Garden off the dining room table. In case you’re curious the menu was: beef enchiladas with red sauce, cream cheese chicken enchiladas with green sauce, chicken tinga, and esquites. For dessert I threw a package of those French toast Girl Scout Cookies at them, because baking is for chumps.

Another thing that happened after thirty-two days, my nephew, Maxwell, hung my Joan Jett poster on the wall. So after living here for nearly sixteen-years, Supergenius HQ has her official patron saints: St. Paul Westerberg and St. Joan Jett.

As he stood back to view his handy work Max said, “I like how they compliment each other. They both got the denim thing going.”

And then I launched into a mini-lecture. “That’s not even half of it,” I said. “He’s holding a book, she’s on a bookcover. Plus, they love each other.”

Max cocked his head at me. “Really?”

“Not like that,” I said. “They’re friends. She covered “Androgynous.” They’ve done some songs together. They did “Let’s Do It” from Tank Girl movie in the 90s. He mentioned her at RiotFest!”

Then it was Sonya’s turn to tell us about how much she liked the Tankgirl books. I didn’t get a chance to tell them about how Joan Jett was my first favorite singer when I was like ten because of “Crimson & Clover” and I thought she was Leather Tuscadero (sorry, Suzi Quatro). Or that Paul Westerberg music is so much a part of who I am as a person that instead of bone marrow I’m filled with his song lyrics.

I love that whenever I look up from my laptop this is what I see. It makes me so happy.

Just about the only thing I got going for me in this pandemic loneliness hellscape is that I really, really, really love my house, even with its annoying malfunctioning smoke alarms and lack of a linen closet and nasty-ass carpets I cannot wait to get rid of this summer and my stupid bathroom with the toilet next to the closet.

Supergenius HQ is my absolute favorite place on Earth. I’ve worked so hard to keep this roof over my head. All by myself. While being a self-employed freelancer. I love it here. It’s the only place I truly fit and feel wholly myself.

Next to I Will Dare dot com making this home for myself is my proudest achievement, and I will Dare only gets first place because I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty-one years and have only lived in Supergenius HQ for sixteen.

Ok, I gotta go eat some leftovers because I’m starting to get super schmoopy and that makes me wanna barf.

Jodi

The post The COVID Diaries: The Patron Saints of Supergenius HQ appeared first on I Will Dare.

Yesterday, Sister #2 had a party for friends and family so that she could see a whole bunch of people all at once before she returns to Portland. One of the party attendees was my cousin Laurie, who as a teenager was the Sister Club’s much beloved babysitter. She’s the one who would play records for us while recounting going to the Northtown Mall with her boyfriend. Also in attendance yesterday was Jodi Hanson, unofficial Sister #5.

As we reminisced Laurie told us how she still had that little case of 45s she used to bring to our house all the time.

“Were you the one with the “Crimson & Clover” 45?” Jodi Hanson asked and then pointed at me, my sisters nodding their heads in agreement.
“I don’t know,” Laurie said. “I’ll have to look.”

In my memory, Sister #2 owned the 45 and she got it from my mom’s friend TJ. Who really knows? This was more than thirty years ago and we were young. Memories are get fuzzy. More than once this week I have proclaimed, “Oh my god, I forgot about that until right now.”

Earlier this week The Huffington Post ran a story reported by Justin Cherkis about Kim Fowley raping The Runways’ bassist Jackie Fox. The story tells, in explicit detail, how Fowley raped Fox in a crowded hotel room while people watched. Two of those people were, allegedly, Joan Jett and Cherie Currie.

This story was not new to me because I read Evelyn McDonnell’s biography of The Runaways a few years back. The fact that the victim was Fox was news.

Before I even read the HuffPo piece I saw my social media streams littered with people calling for Joan Jett to make a statement. It seemed in a matter of minutes the story switched from being about a man raping a drugged, nearly unconscious teenage girl to much scorn and derision on a woman about her actions from forty years ago.

I saw numerous people talk about how they’d lost all respect for Joan. Some were calling her a cunt. Some were decrying her feminism. None of those people, as far as I know, are experts on rape, trauma, or memory. All of them were really good at not seeing singers, specifically women, as flawed humans who make mistakes or people who may need a little time to process.

While I am often amazed at the lack of critical-thinking skills of people who call themselves music critics, this rush to judge Joan stunned me.

Had these people never been drunk teenagers before? Do these people remember every single thing that happened to them when they were sixteen? Had these people never been in a situation where someone in power was hurting someone powerless and been confused and helpless to stop it?

Nope.

This “music critics” read one story and instead of damning the patriarchal constructs of rock & roll that allow men in power incredible control over young woman they rushed to damn Joan. Instead of pausing for just a millisecond to search their souls for maybe the teeniest bit of empathy, they had to be rush to be the enlightened rape-hater and judge everyone in that room. These people are the intellectual equivalent of people who argue that if we all had guns the mass shootings would never happen.

Fuck them.

While I have never witnessed someone being raped, I did grow up in an abusive household where I saw my sisters being abused and I did not stop it even though I was bigger than my dad. Sometimes in that situation all you can think about is making it through to the next minute when it will all be over. Sometimes you get as small and quiet as you can so you don’t bring attention and abuse on yourself.

Sometimes humans do the best that they can with what they have.

I don’t know what happened in that hotel room that night. You don’t know. None of the fucking social media assholes who lost respect for Joan knows.

And there’s nothing we can do now besides off our sympathies for Fox, admire her bravery in telling her story, and maybe takes forty-five seconds before we rush to judge someone.

The post Joan Jett, Rape & The Social Media Trauma Experts appeared first on I Will Dare.

This morning on Teenage Kicks, Jacquie Fuller played two hours of side one, track ones in honor of The Current’s upcoming “High Fidelity” showing at The Fitz.

It was, as you can imagine, totally awesome, even though, she chose the wrong Replacements’ song (went with Hold My Life off of Tim).

Since High Fidelity os one of my all-time favorite movies. I can quote most of the movie from memory, even Rob Gordon’s Top Five side one track one. Since you can’t hear me. I’ll just embed this little bad boy.

Top Five Side One, Track Ones

1. I Will Dare, The Replacements, Let it Be
2. Barracuda, Heart, Little Queen
3. Bad Reputation, Joan Jett, Bad Reputation
4. Cover Me Up, Jason Isbell, Southeastern Oh, kind of a new record. In a minute. Very nice, Jodi. A sly declaration of new classic status slipped into a list of old safe ones. . .
5. Sick of Myself, Matthew Sweet, 100% Fun

Contenders that were ultimately dismissed

Greetings to the New Brunette, Billy Bragg, Talking with the Taxman about Poetry
Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan, Blood on the Tracks
Stupid Boy, The Gear Daddies, Billy’s Live Bait
Lost Horizons, Gin Blossoms, New Miserable Experience
Closer to Fine, The Indigo Girls, The Indigo Girls
Blue, The Jayhawks, Tomorrow the Green Grass
It’s Only Dancing, Jeremy Messersmith, Heart Murmurs
Valerie Loves Me, Material Issue, International Pop Overthrow
Set out Running, Neko Case & Her Boyfriends, Furnace Room Lullaby
F.N.T, Semisonic, Great Divide
Windfall, Son Volt, Trace
Misery, Soul Asylum, Let Your Dim Light Shine
Untouchable Face, Ani DiFranco, Dilate
Mad About You, Belinda Carlisle, Belinda

About the photo: My nephew Cade watching as the needle drops on The Pixies’ “Doolittle” (Side One, Track One = Debaser.) As my friend Caroline said, “Awesome is about to happen. Rarely captured on film.”)

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