not really sure where the term "vagina music" originated. The first
time I heard it was in Nicole Holofcener's awesome film Walking and
Talking, when a male character complained to his female car-trip
cohorts, "Are we gonna listen to this vagina music the whole way
there?" ("Yes!") The second time was almost a decade later, on an
episode of Six Feet Under wherein one of Claire's art-school friends
demands , "You guys are gonna have to change this vagina music
From these, we can infer that vagina music = music that others feel subjected to and wish to avoid.
Nonfictionally, in my own life, it's come up in less
confrontational instances, usually in discussions of the famed Michigan
Womyn's Music Festival—which was originally founded to showcase what
was specifically called women's music—or the once-mighty Lilith Fair.
I used the expression just last weekend to refer to a band playing
Portland's Pride festivities whose skinny jeans and self-conscious
rattails screamed '80s synth revival ,but whose amps bleated out
something much more Indigo/DiFranco.
Folk songwriter Fred Neil said Karen Dalton "sure could sing the shit out of the blues," and Bob Dylan said she sang like Billie Holiday and played guitar like Jimmy Reed. Dylan's description wouldn't be the last time this under-the-radar folk singer was likened to Lady Day. Like Holiday, Dalton's haunting croon completely transforms whatever folk, blues, or pop standard she sang.
Last night, a couple of us lucky Bitch ladies got the chance to go to the sold-out-for-weeks Broken Social Scene show here in Portland. It makes sense, right? They're a collective, just like we are! Read on for our notes and some sweet video clips, after the jump.