The Sky Was Made of Amethyst
For months, I found myself curating and creating playlists that steered away from the pop side of things. I like to describe them (just like they did in Ten Things I Hate About You—a film that, if you ask me, is an absolute cinematic gem) as “angry girl music of the indie rock persuasion.” Going back to my original point, while I still struggle with deconstructing and classifying every possible music genre on earth, I think that description sums it up pretty well.
Apparently, the origin story says that Courtney Love’s mother told her she couldn’t go through her whole life with a hole in her heart. That’s how “Hole” became the name of the band. Since then, their music has been both loved and hated by many. Rumor has it that Kurt Cobain wrote some of their lyrics, but that only seems to be another one of the many effects of the relentless misogyny leitmotiv that surrounds not only Courtney herself, but women in general—especially when they are musicians. I have my own inner contradictions when I think about labeling the genre “Female Rage”—it reminds me too much of the misplaced accusations of hysteria; it seems diminishing. But then I wonder if we’re actually reclaiming feelings of anger that went unexpressed for years, if not decades or centuries. I know saying that punk was invented by women doesn’t fully encapsulate the punk lifestyle or movement in general, but I do firmly believe that we have a significant place in it—now more than ever.
The Hole’s Live Through This, 1994 (Album cover) - Photography by Ellen von Unwerth
Bands like The Beaches have captured this feeling perfectly with their hit song “Blame Brett.” The lyrics resonate deeply with this generation: “I’m sorry in advance, I’m probably going to treat you bad, I’m probably going to let you down, I'm probably going to sleep around. Don’t blame me blame Brett, blame my ex blame, my ex, blame my ex” in the chorus. The intro, which is a personal favorite, sets the tone with: “Done being the sad girl, I’m done dating rock stars, From now only actors, tall boys in the Raptors. I’ll become an asshole disguised as a bad girl.” This current wave of unapologetic, empowered music has spread beyond the English-speaking side of the world. Spanish bands like Shego embody this movement perfectly. Their name, likely inspired by the villain from Kim Possible, works wonderfully and suits them brilliantly. At times, their sound resembles the indie currents of Mac Demarco or Alex G, but what really stands out is how they capture the experience of being young. Their lyrics narrate the all-too-familiar experience of sitting in a bar with friends, encountering random men who offer drugs or unwanted intimacy, and, when refused, label them as "crazy.” Rather than shy away from the term, Shego has reappropriated it, boldly asserting, “Yes, we’re unhinged—now stop bothering my girls.” Vibrant, talented, and above all, honest, they fully embrace their rawness, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Shego’s polaroid picture, via IG @shegomanda
Years ago, bands like the Australian group Camp Cope were already working through the same concepts of frustration and resistance. Formed around 2014-2015, during a time when mainstream emo bands like My Chemical Romance, pop punk staples as Brand New, and the rise of Midwest Emo were dominating the scene, Camp Cope stood out as a band that I could truly relate to. Think of a group of girls actively challenging the patriarchy, against shaving facial hair, and using their music as a platform for rebellion. In their song “West Side Story,” they capture this defiance perfectly: “I’m just an angry girl that got given a guitar but how dare you say I’m too young to know that ticket prices are going up and the trains still are not on time and the thugs that patrol the lines are the reason I don’t pay my fines, and the prescriptions are going up and we’re not making any more money.” Yes: girls sing about love and heartbreak, but we are also tired and fed up with the way things are going so far.
I’ve never skipped a red light, never been fined, and I wouldn’t call the police thugs, but I can understand where this frustration comes from and why it’s been bottled up, now needing an outlet—especially in the form of craftsmanship (or should I say craftswomanship?). If music is a reflection of the world around us, then let them speak up, let them sing, and let them rage about it all with fiery, unapologetic, and inflammatory lyricism.
