Apparently whether you think I’m the beeze kneeze or a pile of human garbage depends on who I’m dating.
It has taken me 9 years of romantic relationships to realise this. Another aspect of our lives conquered, dudes.
It really pains me to start an article like this, but here goes anyway: recently I posted something on Facebook that caused a bit of a stir.
I’m gonna publish a book called tastes of Melbourne women underground. So tired of male back-patting and exclusion of anything vaguely ‘feminine’ in subculture. We get it. You think you’re all awesome and we’re all just kinda average. Unless we sound like you. Ladies of Melbourne… Let’s please reject this culture.
The torrent of comments in response was overwhelming; it got up to 650 or so. (Probably at least 100 of those were mine, though… I got excited.) I wrote that post thinking that people would have a quick eye-roll and move on. Instead, I came to realise that I was not alone in feeling this way. That many of us, up to that point, had felt we needn’t even attempt to talk about it, because it seemed that no one would listen.
Out of this realisation I’ve embarked on the task of putting together an alternative, subjective musical history. The project is called ‘LISTEN’ and it’ll be written by many and varied feminists about the music they love and the musical experiences they’ve had. It’ll be published in book form and also as a website, so that as many voices as possible can be heard. The over-arching narrative of the publication will be formed by piecing together the material we’re presented with. So it’ll be a book written out of the act of listening.
But I’m writing this article to present my subjective opinion of the book that sparked the post, which I wrote having just read James Kritzler’s Noise in My Head. However, the discussion moved very quickly away from the book itself and onto broader discussions about feminism in music.
I have too many feelings about this to really go into any detail on here but let me just say that it is strange to see characters you’ve known over a decade portrayed and torn down and held-up and propped against each other. This entire debate of sorts is fascinating but also feels like its gone on inside my head for a long while…
Anonymous said: dear sally, I fell in love with a boy, and he fell in love with me, and then it fell apart in such a sad way. I still have this huge amount of love for him in my heart but I don't know how to be friends with someone I thought I'd love for a really really long time... do you think being friends with someone you love to a vaguely unbearable extent is viable? I'm scared to think I'd lose someone simply because it's hard... he's really special, we just didn't work the way we wanted to, in the end.
Ever Since I Bought a Real Nice Umbrella it Hasn’t Rained - one girl’s struggle.