Do you remember a time, not so long ago, when you could turn on the radio and hear sophisticated women sharing their serious intimations on
hedonism,
salvation,
child-neglect,
self-loathing, and deities walking
among us? When pensive females pondered the loss of old-West American
chivalry and planted the seeds for endless debate on the definitive identity of the word
irony?
Adia was a household name and even Madonna had something
introspective to say. A poignant celebration of
Celtic dance garnered national attention and a British chanteuse gained prominence with her charming
recipe for self-respect. The road to radio success followed the footsteps of Tracy Chapman, Kate Bush, and Suzanne Vega, the smarter the better. Stevie Nicks broke America's heart with her profound
lament on the passage of time. An Ani DiFranco cover became a bona fide
radio hit. Careful listeners learned that there's more to being a "
bitch" than meets the eye while the airwaves blazed with Melissa Etheridge's
breathtaking cries for a night of passion with her discreet inamorata. Music was music and women owned it. The female perspective was a force to be reckoned with. First Lady was an office, not an ornament.
But now, the glass ceiling is back.
In 2005, mainstream radio won't even consider the idea of playing a woman with a brain larger than her bra. 10 years after mainstream music's largest critical mass of women rockers, a brilliant mind and a point of view are the biggest liabilities that saddle a female artist from success. Instead, today's women in music go no further in songcraft than craving a man, discovering his infidelity, and mourning the break-up. Who knew they were so singleminded? Even the biggest headliners of the mid-1990's have been forced to "adapt" (re: devolve) or sink with the tide. Alanis got a trendy hair-cut and started singing about less challenging topics. Jewel put down her guitar and went hunting for a pink skirt and a tighter midriff. Liz Phair got herself a lovely make-over. Sheryl Crow retreated to sunny-blonde pop pablums, and when she finally started singing about real subjects again, radio dropped her without remorse. Indeed, the Lilith Fair is dead in far more ways than one.
So how on earth did this happen?
Like most social phenomena, the change happened in such gradual increments that it easily escaped our attention while brewing. It's difficult to appreciate the full weight of any shift of this magnitude on a day-to-day basis. However, now in 2005, I find myself looking at the above examples and realizing how alien a female-driven rock scene feels in contrast to today's more vacuous musical landscape. Perhaps the blame goes to the Spice Girls and the boyband regime they ushered in. Perhaps it goes to 9-11 and an America suddenly less willing to criticize its chauvinist heritage. Perhaps the fault lies with the Bush Administration, its reach into the FCC and the corporate enterprises that operate the record industry. Very possibly they understand the danger that a feminist current of expression poses to their gender apartheid, capitalist excess, and hegemonic crusades. Whatever the case, the change, in just little over half-a-decade, has been drastic.
But why does it matter?
It matters, quite simply, because reform is essential in every angle of modern America. Everyday music, while perhaps seeming politically neglible, is a powerful instrument that molds listeners' consciousness in ways both direct and subliminal. Hearing women's thoughtful provocation inevitably forges a growing appreciation, particularly in men, for the complexity and gravity that a woman carries when navigating her journey through this life. A song like Luka teaches a monolith more about ambivalence in the face of domestic violence than a semester's worth of Psychology. Fast Car says more about firsthand attributes of race and poverty in America than any educational material I've ever seen. Further, the regular radio exposure to women's views furthers the understanding that it is normal for women to yearn, normal for women to philosophize, normal for women to act decisively, and normal for women to have something worth hearing. In that sense, pop culture not only powerfully reinforces the institutionalized norms of a society, but it dictates them as well.
Additionally, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, the effect of mainstream music on America's youth cannot be understated. Studies abound exploring the rise of anti-progressivism in the youngest generation, now our youngest voters. It's not difficult to conceive how lack of exposure to the grim realities of life incubates people from confronting difficult issues and leaves them floundering in that bubble of blind conservative bliss we've come to detest so much. The bold story-telling we became accustomed to on the radio in the 1990's began to break through that barrier and functioned as education by connecting a face and a person to an otherwise anonymous social issue. Quite simply, the personal is the political.
So how can we bring it back?
I wouldn't presume to know. The reason I write this diary is to ask the very basic questions of what went wrong in radio pop culture, can it be rectified, how can it be addressed, and is it worth fighting for. While I don't have all the answers, I know that it's important to utilize channels of mass communication to educate people on the real facts of life that drive progressive policy. By all accounts, recent mainstream radio has redefined women in a way that undercuts the respect to which they're entitled. And I am uncomfortable standing by while the feminist narrative is further drowned by a culture better known for its beer commercials and wardrobe malfunctions than its commitment to equality.
I would welcome any input.