Rock on, sister
Not too long ago, radio wouldn't play female artists back to back. This fall, women's voices are everywhere.
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Bonnie Raitt, one of the first rock-era women who gained respect as an electric guitarist, says, "I've never listened to any record company.... They can never pick my material or comment on it. Luckily, I signed with people that respected me, and if they ever said anything about what I wore or what I sang, I would just say, 'It's not your place to tell me that.' But on the other hand ... because I wasn't accepting their advice, they penalized me by not promoting my records."
This is still a reality for many artists of both sexes, though women are no longer prevented from having husbands or children, as rockabilly pioneer Lorrie Collins and her envelope-busting sisters sometimes were.
Raitt also points out, "Especially in the Lilith era, there are many more women respected as musicians and on the charts ... in all kinds of music. But in terms of managers, executives, and editors and engineers ... there's still a Neanderthal level of acceptance in terms of positions of power." The few who do rise, she notes, "sometimes have the worst qualities of the more piggish men."
Adds Castellano, "It's a really, really slow process." And sometimes, she finds, the best thing to do is stand up and fight. Like a man.
The following albums won't top the charts, but they're just as worthy, if not more so.
Kelly Willis Easy (Rykodisc): Willis, an affectation-free charmer, wraps her pure, plaintive voice around her own heartache songs and those of other well-chosen authors, including husband Bruce Robison and the late Kirsty MacColl, with backing by Vince Gill and other A-team Austinite/Nashvillians.
Kim Richey Rise (Lost Highway): Richey easily straddles pop and country while dipping into jazz and rock, but it's Richey's nuanced, crystalline vocals and her knack for inhabiting an aching lyric so completely no matter how she sings it that make "Rise" a quiet stunner.
Shemekia Copeland Talking to Strangers (Alligator): This young blues mama, daughter of the late Johnny "Clyde" Copeland, ain't foolin' when she belts out songs of desire and don't-mess-with-me attitude. Producer Dr. John contributes piano and keyboards, and Arthur Nielson squeezes out guitar licks so hot, he could be charged with arson.
Karrin Allyson In Blue (Concord Jazz): Though not a blues album per se, jazz singer Allyson's disc embraces the concept of blues. The colorations she brings to "The Meaning of the Blues" and 12 other tunes couldn't be further from Copeland's, which goes to show what a spectrum we could be experiencing if mainstream radio would let us.
Meshell Ndegeocello Cookie: The Anthropological Mix Tape (Maverick): A female Gil Scott-Heron who challenges the status quo in gender, racial, and other realms, Ndegeocello melds jazz, hip-hop, funk, soul, and poetry in masterly fashion.
Neko Case Black Listed (Bloodshot): Patsy Cline comparisons abound, but Case's torch and twang leanings, while owing heavily to tradition, still carry twinges of her punk-rock background.
Sinead O'Connor Sean-Nós Nua (Vanguard): O'Connor calls these Gaelic folk tunes "true soul music," and when she wraps her angelic voice around them, that's exactly how they sound.
