Are we changed from listening to Naomi Wolf speak?

Wolf, author of seminal feminist text The Beauty Myth, received a warm welcome in at Melbourne’s Capitol Theatre this month, and she returned the favour by praising Australia’s “gutsy” and “down-to-earth” women. Her talk was in many ways an introduction to, or rehash of, her bestselling book from the ’90s, with some musings on how things have changed in the 19 years since the tome was published.

Her argument — that while women have made legal, educational and professional strides over the decades, they have been bombarded by cultural images to keep them insecure about and fixated on their attractiveness — in many ways changed feminist discourse. That women are key in this — internalising many of the shallow attitudes they oppose at an intellectual level — is worthy of greater thought. It’s no longer about blaming ‘the man’: women’s discussions about other women are frequently more cutting than those by men; critiques about female appearance more commonplace; expenditure on clothing, beauty products, surgery etc. disproportionate.

It’s a tricky situation acknowledged by Wolf; while arguing that the multi-billion-dollar cosmetics, dieting and plastic surgery industries want to “mess with your head”, she has no easy answer on how to affect self-confidence enough to ensure obsessive ruminations on appearance do not plague the lives of girls and women.

According to Wolf, the ubiquitous porn industry leaves women feeling they are second-rate and wanting to reproduce the new ideal: porn everywhere, showing all manner of women — though there is a porn ‘type’ — doing all manner of things (or, to use more masculine language, having things done to them). She argues that while people used to be turned on by people, by flesh and blood lying next to them in a bed for example, a women in her flesh cannot be assured that she will be accepted and desired nowadays because her partner has seen so many commodified and extreme images. This theory holds weight among some men, Wolf says, who are “dialling through a DVD of images” to become sufficiently aroused. As people relate to a bunch of strangers in their beds a kind of loneliness descends and relationships are drained of their vitality.

Still, this train of thought sits alongside an instinctive, though nuanced, anti-censorship stance. Having argued that the negative consequences of porn are preferable to all-ought censorship, Wold advocates that men in particular make a choice to abstain from excessive pornographic consumption in order to respect their sexual response, thereby enabling their “sexual energy” to be turned to their partners rather than into the abyss. Wolf encourages women — in a self-confessed ‘California’ frame of mind –to “see the goddess within”, which I presume is code for fortifying self-esteem.

Wolf notes now that as expectations of beauty and attractiveness have become more widespread — “taking pride” in your appearance, “making an effort” — it’s hard to ‘just be’ at times. And she harks back to a key argument in the The Beauty Myth that being an attractive woman, though it has its perks, is no utopia. Plenty of men objectify you; woman can be hostile. (When an audience member questioned whether the mantra that people should embrace the diversity of women’s looks could inadvertently lead to a hostility towards those who fit the modern-day ideal — the label ‘real woman’ seems to imply the existence of ‘unreal’ women – Wolf dryly noted that such negative stereotypes tend to subside as a woman ages.)

Mobile phones were ubiquitous, but the coverage was poor, saving us from those ever-exciting conversations along the lines of, “We’re near the big tree …. no, the tree …. you know, sorta near the stage ….” And there was security aplenty, which is a good thing given the drunk sweaty dudes, including the charming lad who enjoyed the heat of the Boiler Room so much he had to insult the “dykes” around him. Happy Australia Day to you too.

The Boiler Room, home to last year’s cracker of a performance by Lupe Fiasco, was again the place to be, with Itchee & Scratchee pleasing with ‘Sweetness & Light’ and the Midnight Juggernauts – whose singer seemed to be wearing a crown of thorns – undertaking the unenviable task of following Girltalk, one of the most hyped performances of the day. Surely Girltalk is the only performer around able to get sweet Gen Y gents to scream Kelly Clarkson at the top of their lungs. Throughout the energetic and patchy set, which featured Missy Elliott, Bruce Springstein, Lady GaGa, Daft Punk and Michael Jackson, Girltalk had a host of people dancing on stage (and, inexplicably, one woman releasing toilet paper through a dispenser onto the crowd). It was enormously fun, even if you’re sceptical about his contribution to the world of music, and ended with John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’, prompting one fan to explain to her friend that it was “The Beatles”.

Across to the expletive-laden set of UK’s Dizzee Rascal. Full of energy and machismo, Dizzee led a familiar chant at the main stage: “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi,oi, oi”. Now a biggish name, the performance seemed to be held back by the venue (likely better in the Boiler Room, or an individual arena), but the pop-ish songs, ‘Holiday’ and ‘Bonkers’, were indeed fun.

But hey, the ladies in particular were waiting for another Brit darling to make an appearance, particularly one punter who was seen sporting a “I’m here to have sex with Lily Allen” T-shirt. The diminutive star came out emblazoned in the Australian flag, a cig in her mouth, and a strut that would make Mick Jagger proud. Great haircut too, although things got a little dishelleved in the afternoon sun. Lily’s strengths, in my view, are her funny lyrics and down-to-earth charm; her notoriously patchy voice held up surprisingly well, particularly in a decent cover of the vintage ‘Just Be Good to Me’. The country music lament,’Not fair’, was a crowd-pleaser.

Naked in the Woods

Naked in the Woods is a nice demonstration of some of the wonderful women artists we have in Australia. The compilation album features the work of the well-known in some circles – Little Birdy, Rebecca Barnard, Jen Cloher – and those that might well get some critical mass in the future.

It starts with the energetic Black Bird by Sophia Katos, which didn’t really work for me but might get some people bopping along. Kelly Auty’s Don’t Wanna Be had me imagining the film clip of Total Eclipse of the Heart – cheesy, earnest, but still kinda fun. Arowe’s Deaf Silence is a sad tune, mildly reminiscent of the lovely Sia and featuring some nifty lyrics and local references (riding past Fitzroy pool, anyone?).

The jazzy Let it slide is a nice, sleepy number, while Black Coffee has singer Milly Moodie getting a little sassy about a desired one. Sarah Carroll’s Crying at midnight is a melancholy country and western tune promptly followed by Gwendolyne O’Dea’s fast and catchy Bad’s Good, from which the album name comes.

Liz Stringer’s You Say So Many Things had a Melissa Etheridge vibe to it; this contrasts nicely to Jen Cloher’s sparse Hidden Hands. Cloher’s voice is particularly soft and gentle in this track, which delivers a dark crescendo. Suzy Blue’s Pretty Lies is one of those ugly absurdist tracks reminiscent, perhaps, of Bjork’s It’s Oh So Quiet. She’s got a nicer voice than Bjork, and the song is interesting (and would probably sound better live) but is jarring, particularly compared to the next song – the beautiful Six Story Caryard Apartment Block by Kate McMahon, which has soundtrack written all over it.

Little Birdy’s Katy Steele is a great performer and the band’s contribution to Naked in the Woods – Brother – is a simple and fun song that’ll probably have you tapping your toes. Rebecca Barnard – of the 90s band Rebecca’s Empire– lends her distinctive vocals to Sirens, which isn’t one of her greatest. Sally Ford’s Mother’s Day doesn’t sound of this day; there’s something dark and 80s about it. Rezzalp’s Year of the Tear might be someone else’s cup of tea; Angie Hart’s Don’t Be Shy is easier on the ear.

Like most albums, Naked in the Woods is a mixed bag, both in genre and quality. In some ways the album is too jumpy: while ‘women artists’ is the common theme, the ballads don’t always juxtapose nicely with the pop, for example, or work well individually. I suspect men would find this album emotion-overload too. Still, men are probably not the target audience, and there are plenty of good songs wrapped in there.

Naked In The Woods is part of the Victoria Rocks – FReeZACentral Program, a Victorian Government initiative, funded by the Department of Planning and Community Development, and managed by The Push.

Kate Rae

Kate Rae
My Love

EPs are a hit and miss affair: bands that end up being great can often produce pretty ordinary EPs in their infancy, while others show promise straight away. Kate Rae’s earnest My Love EP is a gentle, uncomplicated affair.

Her vocals could use more development, and while there were some nice chords in there, on the whole the affair doesn’t work.

This is not to say that Rae will not improve, but as a standalone work of music, My Love just isn’t terribly pleasurable or memorable.

If Sia is not one of the best singers around then so help me.

The lass from Adelaide impressed and depressed us in 2000 with her major label debut album, Healing is difficult. On her next albums, Some people have REAL problems, Colour the small one, and Lady Croissant, Sia showed a more playful side, and gathered thousands of new fans in the process.

While Sia earned her stripes over the past decade with a solid, diverse body of work, her collaborations pushed her into the spotlight, particularly in the UK. She gathered serious kudos for work with Zero 7, and her rather ambitious cover of Radiohead’s ‘Paranoid Android’. Locally, she has recorded with Lior and Katie Noonan, and in the US, she is now working with Christina Aguilera and Natasha Bedingfield, after gaining huge exposure through cult TV show ‘Six Feet Under’ and some serious praise from gossip king Perez Hilton.

Entering the Corner Hotel stage wearing a glow-in-the-dark costume, Sia opened her set with ‘Buttons’, a decisive YouTube favourite.

Sia sang steadily through 90 minutes’ worth of tunes, including the lovely ‘Breathe me’, ‘Little black sandals’, ‘Electric bird’ and ‘The girl you’ve lost to cocaine‘.

While local covers have the potential to be aweful (Missy Higgins’ cover of ‘More than this’ is a recent case in point), but Sia made gorgeous work of The Pretenders’ already splendid ‘I’m going to sleep’ (written by Ray Davies of the Kinks). The fans lapped it up, with the ladies going especially wild for the goofy singer.

Soulful, energetic and ridiculously talented, Sia sounds great recorded but is much, much better in the flesh.

Eddy Current Suppression Ring was a gift to me from my friend Leigh. The Melbourne four-piece has been getting solid word-of-month for a while now; it showed at the Melbourne Big Day Out, where a decent crowd waited for singer Brendan Suppression, guitarist and keyboardist Eddy Current, bassist Rob Solid and drummer Danny Current to come out and live up to their reputation as one of the nation’s best live bands.

Brendan Suppression is known for a few things: his intensity, Michael Jackson-esque gloves, tendency to sing with his back to the crowd and having a dance on stage. Add to this list a bit of singing while crowd-surfing among his teenage and 20-something fans in the summer sun. The band’s songs are often lyrically and musically simple but in the best possible way. Topics range from the hypnotism of television to battling indecision (‘Which way to go’) and the idea of a lover as novel to be read over and over. The band doesn’t play that often but they’re a sight to behold and destined for greatness.

Fittingly, Eddy Current was followed by fellow Melbourne faves Little Red, termed “original doo-wop punk” on Myspace. All the right noises are being made about Little Red; they’re great live, make good harmonies, they’re cute as can be and play lotsa catchy tunes. The five-piece has gathered critical acclaim for its debut album, Listen to Little Red (read Laneway‘s review here) and mass appeal is probably next. Melbourne BDO was not the band’s finest hour, but their set was still entertaining enough and by the sounds of it, their second album will also be a fun little corker.

For energy and excitement, though, it was hard to top Lupe Fiasco. The American rapper is supposed to be retiring after his next album – sad news for those who’ve not seen him live but have appreciated such songs as ‘Kick Push’, ‘Superstar’, ‘Touch the Sky’ (with Kanye West) and ‘Daydreamin’ (with the lovely Jill Scott). The man is as intelligent as he is hot, and after dancing like mad in the boiling Boiler Room with his shirt off, he ended the euphoric one-hour set with a forward flip and the crowd went bananas. Apparently he didn’t play very long at his solo concert at the Palace the next night, but it’s better to eat a little butter than a tub of margarine.

Every time Canadian identical twins Tegan and Sara tour Australia the crowd builds, so it was no surprise that air play of their singles ‘Back in your head’, ‘Walking with a ghost’ and cover of Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Dancing in the dark’ prompted thousands of mostly female fans to the Palace one balmy Friday night.

Tegan & Sara Quin have been performing together for more than a decade; they’re tight as hell, and have perfected the art of good manners, entertaining chit chat and often rambling stories about the genesis of their songs, and near-faultless rendering of their catchy pop library.

The band has some serious music credentials: they’ve climbed the indie ladder, working with the likes of Neil Young, Rufus Wainwright, Ryan Adams, The Killers, and Death Cab for Cutie. They’re charming and cute, but have eschewed the vanity and narcissism that has inflicted many of their female peers in the music biz.

Having played at the Falls Festival in Lorne over the new year, fans who missed out on their coastal adventures were champing at the bit to hear the twins get down to business. Others were just keen to get a glimpse of the lesbian poster girls; wolf-whistling and yelling messages of love throughout the one-and-a-half-hour set.

The concert contained all the right elements: old and new songs, a bit of reflection and some toe-tapping good times. At a selfish level, I couldn’t have been more pleased with their song collection: ‘Nineteen’, ‘Where does the good go’, ‘Living room’ and nuanced renderings of songs that were at once familiar and different.

T&S’s harmonies are recognisable and good on the ear; their songwriting succinct and poppy. But what really gives weight to duo is their songwriting: their lyrics are intimate and clever; some tell stories; others vividly portray the bittersweet human experience.

It ended with a three-song finale and that was that. Until next time, my pretties.