It's been a long, long time since I made it to a concert, but I went to see Holly Near perform on Wednesday night. Her lyrics still inspire me, her songs are still made for a roomful of women harmonizing, and her political vision still encompasses a wide variety of issues and insights.
I first heard Holly's music in Greeley, Colorado, known for Monfort's stock yards and the smelly sugar beet plant. We Colorado folks had never heard of Women's Music, but I was lucky enough to have a housemate from the Bay Area. She brought albums from Cris Williamson, Meg Christian, Margie Adam, Kate Wolf and others, and we played them 24/7.
My housemates and I were members of a theatre troupe that put on improvisational shows for Deaf and hearing children, and I remember signing Cris Williamson's Song of the Soul in one of our shows. We sang and lip-synced and signed and danced and loved and became politicized through this wonderful new music.
So did the kittens. Our upstairs housemates had a litter of little ones. One afternoon, we were playing Meg Christian's "Leaping Lesbians" and looked up to see the kittens sneaking down the stairs with huge eyes and poofy tails, to find out just WHAT this woman was singing about!
I went from driving my dorm roommate crazy with Kris Kristofferson to playing Women's Music on my little record player. It wasn't even a stereo!
When I moved to Minneapolis-St. Paul in 1978, I found a community of women who regularly attended concerts by women from Olivia Records, as well as Claudia Schmidt, Kate Wolf, Alive!, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Teresa Trull, Kay Gardner and many others, as well as local women like Liz Olds and Ann Reed. I've seen Holly perform in venues as small as our church basement women's coffeehouse and as large as the Michigan Women's Music Festival, which drew 10,000 women for a long weekend in August.
I remember the sign language interpreter giggling her way through Meg's song about menstrual cramps. "oooowwwaaahhhoooowww!"
I had never heard of Ukiah, California, but it will always be on the map for me because of a song (Water Come Down) about riding the irrigation water down the ditches, and how Holly has "never felt anything quite like that since!"
I remember sitting next to my housemate in our church basement coffeehouse, each of us breathing an awed sigh of recognition when Holly signed "family" in the song about looking up to her sister, "You Got Me Flying." I remember Timothy Near and Susan Freundlich signing a song together, weaving the signs and their bodies together in a way that was part Sign and part dance.
I remember women filling several sections of a huge divided classroom at the University of Minnesota, and Holly dividing us into sections to sing "Nicolia". The winter night was dark and cold, but the harmonies were beautiful and I always came away from concerts high, empowered and unable to sleep for needing to sing.
I remember carefully going through every album looking for a song that was sufficiently lesbian to satisfy my discomfort with the Top 40, yet subtle enough to teach to a high school choir. Somehow, Something About the Women, which seemed safe enough to my naive eyes (after all, I was comparing it to "Leapin' Lesbians", "Golden Thread" and the Lesbian Concentrate album!) didn't fool that advisor one bit! She insisted on hearing all my songs privately from then on, before letting me play them for the students! In the early 1990's, when I worked in another high school, I was out to the entire school population, students and staff. And there were out gay kids who were much braver than I had to be! Schools are still not safe for GLBTQ students, but it they do have visible and proud role models now.
I remember not really being clear about the ramifications of the shootings at Kent State until I heard It Could Have Been Me Every song taught me something new about this politically aware new world I was entering. Holly's songs made me think about issues, history and how everyone has their own story to tell, whether their "skin is golden, like mine will never be", whether they are a teacher in some Third World country or a poet continuing to sing even after the junta shot his hands so he could no longer play his guitar.
I found my heart in lyrics that promised that Someday One Will Do and gave me hope that someday, someone would "Sit With Me" through the night. I knew one woman who called that the "co-dependency" song, but I always thought that label was pretty cold. Everyone needs to be able to fall apart sometimes outside of therapy, even in therapy-happy Minneapolis!
Tonight, remembering songs from thirty years ago, and going through the discography to find their titles, I still hear each song in my head, bringing back a time of vibrant community, hope and despair, personal, political, ethical and spiritual growth. Looking back, alone or with other women, I realize that we really did make a difference in this world. Holly and Cris and Meg and the others were leaders, but each of us was changed irrevocably by the music and the times, and we all made a difference.
Women's music, most particularly Holly's consistency, wisdom and humor, showed me the way. I will never forget the music or the experience of sitting in that auditorium, singing about a young woman who learned to organize!
Thank you, Holly. We're still here.
I first heard Holly's music in Greeley, Colorado, known for Monfort's stock yards and the smelly sugar beet plant. We Colorado folks had never heard of Women's Music, but I was lucky enough to have a housemate from the Bay Area. She brought albums from Cris Williamson, Meg Christian, Margie Adam, Kate Wolf and others, and we played them 24/7.
My housemates and I were members of a theatre troupe that put on improvisational shows for Deaf and hearing children, and I remember signing Cris Williamson's Song of the Soul in one of our shows. We sang and lip-synced and signed and danced and loved and became politicized through this wonderful new music.
So did the kittens. Our upstairs housemates had a litter of little ones. One afternoon, we were playing Meg Christian's "Leaping Lesbians" and looked up to see the kittens sneaking down the stairs with huge eyes and poofy tails, to find out just WHAT this woman was singing about!
I went from driving my dorm roommate crazy with Kris Kristofferson to playing Women's Music on my little record player. It wasn't even a stereo!
When I moved to Minneapolis-St. Paul in 1978, I found a community of women who regularly attended concerts by women from Olivia Records, as well as Claudia Schmidt, Kate Wolf, Alive!, Sweet Honey in the Rock, Teresa Trull, Kay Gardner and many others, as well as local women like Liz Olds and Ann Reed. I've seen Holly perform in venues as small as our church basement women's coffeehouse and as large as the Michigan Women's Music Festival, which drew 10,000 women for a long weekend in August.
I remember the sign language interpreter giggling her way through Meg's song about menstrual cramps. "oooowwwaaahhhoooowww!"
I had never heard of Ukiah, California, but it will always be on the map for me because of a song (Water Come Down) about riding the irrigation water down the ditches, and how Holly has "never felt anything quite like that since!"
I remember sitting next to my housemate in our church basement coffeehouse, each of us breathing an awed sigh of recognition when Holly signed "family" in the song about looking up to her sister, "You Got Me Flying." I remember Timothy Near and Susan Freundlich signing a song together, weaving the signs and their bodies together in a way that was part Sign and part dance.
I remember women filling several sections of a huge divided classroom at the University of Minnesota, and Holly dividing us into sections to sing "Nicolia". The winter night was dark and cold, but the harmonies were beautiful and I always came away from concerts high, empowered and unable to sleep for needing to sing.
I remember carefully going through every album looking for a song that was sufficiently lesbian to satisfy my discomfort with the Top 40, yet subtle enough to teach to a high school choir. Somehow, Something About the Women, which seemed safe enough to my naive eyes (after all, I was comparing it to "Leapin' Lesbians", "Golden Thread" and the Lesbian Concentrate album!) didn't fool that advisor one bit! She insisted on hearing all my songs privately from then on, before letting me play them for the students! In the early 1990's, when I worked in another high school, I was out to the entire school population, students and staff. And there were out gay kids who were much braver than I had to be! Schools are still not safe for GLBTQ students, but it they do have visible and proud role models now.
I remember not really being clear about the ramifications of the shootings at Kent State until I heard It Could Have Been Me Every song taught me something new about this politically aware new world I was entering. Holly's songs made me think about issues, history and how everyone has their own story to tell, whether their "skin is golden, like mine will never be", whether they are a teacher in some Third World country or a poet continuing to sing even after the junta shot his hands so he could no longer play his guitar.
I found my heart in lyrics that promised that Someday One Will Do and gave me hope that someday, someone would "Sit With Me" through the night. I knew one woman who called that the "co-dependency" song, but I always thought that label was pretty cold. Everyone needs to be able to fall apart sometimes outside of therapy, even in therapy-happy Minneapolis!
Tonight, remembering songs from thirty years ago, and going through the discography to find their titles, I still hear each song in my head, bringing back a time of vibrant community, hope and despair, personal, political, ethical and spiritual growth. Looking back, alone or with other women, I realize that we really did make a difference in this world. Holly and Cris and Meg and the others were leaders, but each of us was changed irrevocably by the music and the times, and we all made a difference.
Women's music, most particularly Holly's consistency, wisdom and humor, showed me the way. I will never forget the music or the experience of sitting in that auditorium, singing about a young woman who learned to organize!
Thank you, Holly. We're still here.
