A couple of years ago I saw ex-Bikini Kill singer Kathleen Hanna speak in New York City, right before she donated her musical archives to New York University’s Fales Library. I was struck by her acerbic wit, her ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude.
While I was a teenager during the grunge and Riot Grrrl era, for some reason I was (at the time) more drawn to hyper-masculine, testosterone-saturated grunge and metal bands and was not that interested in what was happening on the other side of the scene. As Hanna’s talk was intriguing, I took the opportunity to check out The Punk Singer, part of the Hot Docs Festival in Toronto.
About 10 minutes into the documentary, I knew that I had made a colossal mistake.
What better way to celebrate the time of giving than by giving back to your favorite labels, artists and general-music-enablers and purchasing some of their finest goods for a friend? 2012 was a great year for music, so step away from the dangfangled Internets and go into the real world and buy some albums! (Or embrace the internet and shop from your favorite label's e-store!)
Sometimes our BitchTapes are about colors, elements, or seasons. Other times they’re about cover songs or friendship. This time, we thought we’d dedicate a playlist to a very cool label called Burger Records. Haven’t heard of them yet? They’re a small outfit based out of Fullerton, California and they’ve been releasing quality records and tapes since 2007. This week, they put out an incredible 71-song compilation featuring some of the best bands Burger has to offer. It’s just $10 and proceeds go to funding a life-saving surgery for a weiner dog named Popcorn. Not sure you’re ready to shell out the dough? Think of this BitchTapes as a very small sampling of some of our favorite Burger babes.
The Hysteric’s sole blog post has a neat hook. They’ve backdated it to October 30, 1989, suggesting two things: All Hallows' Eve, and old-school punk rock. The date implies both the sugary rush of Halloween menace (“this song is about the true promise of Halloween, extorting candy by threat, from parents") and the post-Reagan years when punk realized there was still an establishment to rally against. Do yourself a favor and jump in the pit with Hysterics when they come through town on their cross-country tour.
Temperatures are still in the mid 90s and the sun's still setting after eight o’clock, but we need to brace ourselves for the eventual changing of the seasons. Luckily, we’ve got the perfect cure for, or accompaniment to, the end-of-summer blues: Brooklyn’s Katie Crutchfield, better known as Waxahatchee. Her quiet tape echo ballads seem borne of the universe found sandwiched between two sheets and covered by a well-worn duvet.
One fateful evening in a kitchen in Brooklyn in the winter of 2008, I stood leaning on a window, freezing air seeping into the sweaty room. A woman emerged from the bathroom wearing a modest black dress with a white collar. In the smallest voice, she said, "We're Screaming Females and we're from New Jersey." My eyes lit up.
Cristy C. Road, a Miami-raised, Brooklyn-based, Cuban-American illustrator, writer, and of course, total dreamboat, is no stranger to DIY, punk, queer, zine, and activist communities all over the place, and certainly no stranger to the pages of Bitch magazine. You might recognize her work from covers of books such as We Don’t Need Another Waveand The Revolution Starts at Home, or maybe you’ve caught her on tour with Sister Spit The Next Generation when they rolled through your town, or perhaps you’ve flipped through an issue or two of Green Zine, or you stole your ex's copy of Bad Habits, or you saw her band play in someone's basement, or maybe you've never heard of her at all, but basically, she’s a big deal, not to mention a badass. This is what happened when I sat down for a chat with her on a sunny Friday morning, pajamas on, and breakfast in hand. Cristy shared her feelings about everything from her art, to astrology, to racial dynamics in radical communities, to cats and brunch. It's all here for you to read, so let's get started!
It’s easy to imagine that Potty Mouth are, er, a gross band, but a quick listen to their Sun Damage EP reveals them to be far from indecent. The record is a letter of intent addressed directly to the dead-serious post-punk set, citing '90s punk clatter as relevant education.