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Sam Brigger
From WHYY in Philadelphia, this is FRESH AIR weekend. I'm Sam Brigger. Today we continue listening to some of our favorite interviews of 2024. First, we'll hear from singer songwriter Maggie Rogers. In 2021, Rogers felt burnt out and took a break from music to go to Harvard Divinity School.
Maggie Rogers
I think at its core, music has always been the most sacred and most spiritual thing that I've ever been a part of.
Sam Brigger
Also, punk pioneer Kathleen Hanno. With her band Bikini Kill, she helped form a movement challenging the misogyny in punk in the 90s.
Kathleen Hanna
You know, kind of B versions of the Sex Pistols, you know, straight white guys who are like, I'm gonna spit on you. And it just was like a lot of toxic masculinity disguised as radicalness.
Sam Brigger
That's coming up on FRESH AIR weekend.
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Sam Brigger
This is FRESH AIR WEEKEND. I'm Sam Brigger in for Terry Gross. While in college at nyu getting a degree in music production, singer, songwriter Maggie Rogers met Pharrell Williams during his visit to her class. Pharrell heard an early version of Maggie's song Alaska and was stunned by it. The interaction was captured in a video that went viral and propelled her to fame in 2021. Burnout from the road, Maggie Rogers took a break and got a master's degree from Harvard Divinity School, where she explored public gatherings and the ethics of power in pop culture.
Maggie Rogers
She's been trying to find a way.
Sam Brigger
To make the life of a touring musician more sustainable. Let's hear a track from Maggie Rodgers latest album, Don't Forget Me. This is so sick of dreaming.
Maggie Rogers
So you think you're on the right track Cruising on the bridge in your great Cadillac you think it's easy walking on the water like they're stepping stones Bowing every little thing Things up for taking oh, it makes me wanna sing my heart's breaking oh, there ain't no diamond ring you could buy me Take me home I'm so sick of dreaming.
That'S so sick of dreaming For Maggie Rogers new album, Don't Forget Me. Maggie Rogers, welcome to FRESH air.
Thanks for having me.
So you've said that in this album, this is the first time where some of the material doesn't come from your own life, that you're like playing with a Persona. And I was wondering if that's freeing because I imagine if you're writing songs about your own life, there'd be this like self imposed pressure to like get it right, to be precise with the details, to be authentic to the experience.
Massively so. I mean, I think in being able to sort of inhabit a character, I was able to weave this tapestry of all of these different memories throughout, really my 20s, I just turned 30 and I was sort of able to tell maybe even a more real version of the truth in telling fiction over the course of writing this record. This character who's like a 25ish year old girl who's leaving home and sort of going on this road trip through the American Southwest kind of appeared in my mind and I was able to write the songs in sequence. The album is sequenced in the order that I wrote the songs in, and I was sort of writing them like scenes in a movie, you know, that takes place over like 36 hours and has a very like Thelma and Louise esque ride to it. And. Yeah, and it was just helpful structure.
So without revealing, like, is it that there are certain songs that are more autobiographical than others or that this Persona and your own life are sort of.
Woven through Each of the songs, they're definitely woven through. I have no problem revealing, you know.
Because you do that.
I mean, yeah, I've been doing that for a long time. I'm also just sort of like professionally vulnerable and just naturally very comfortable with that. But I think it's that the feelings in all of these songs are very real.
You've said that you write songs as a way of processing your life. Does that mean that, like, once you've written about something that it helps you come to a resolution, like, you don't have to think about that part of your life as much?
I think that was really true when I started writing songs. I started writing songs kind of at the end of middle school and the beginning of high school. And it was very much a like one to one diary entry directive where I would write songs as a form of like self soothing therapy and sort of play the song until I felt a new way. And it was also at this time where I was experiencing so much in my life for the first time. And it was 15 years ago now. And I think now I think about songwriting a lot as a form of archiving. I mean, obviously I'm a nostalgic person if my record is called Don't Forget Me. But there's so much beauty in life and so much detail and so much memory. And I do worry about forgetting it all or being able to like get my arms so full of detail that I don't drop anything. And putting it into my art feels like one way of being able to just keep holding it.
Well, you know, you mentioned nostalgia and I wanted to ask you about that. When I first listened to the album, I was like, oh, this is really nostalgic. This is interesting. But, you know, then I listened to so much of the last two weeks and you've been writing nostalgic songs since you were like 16 or 17 years old. So I was wondering, like, do you think that that's just you're inherently a nostalgic person or do you think it's like this process that you have of like making sense of your life is inevitably going to have like a nostalgic aspect to it?
I think it's really a part of who I am. Like, my dad always tells the story of the night I turned five. He found me sobbing and I was just like completely overwhelmed at the fact that I would never be four again.
Well, you write about that in Is it Kids Like Us?
Yeah, hey, yeah, I do. I do write about that. And it is just, I think this idea of Time and the way that it slips through your fingers and not being able to go back. I mean, I think not to talk more about live performance and why I love it, but it kind of is because the thing about being on stage is the second it's awesome and you're like, something is really happening here, it's gone and you can't hold it. You can just be present in it and hope that you remember it. And so anyway, yeah, I'm a nostalgic person.
So, Maggie, you know, you're just one of a handful of pop stars who've gotten their master's degree from Harvard Divinity School. What was it that you were hoping to get from this program? I mean, it's not a theology school at this point.
That's important to sort of note that I didn't go to any kind of seminary, I didn't train to be a priest.
But clearly it has to do with some sort of elder of spirituality. And that seems tethered to your understanding of what music is like and performance. So what were you hoping to sort of figure out when you were writing your thesis?
So my master's degree is in religion and public life. So this program that I went to was specifically for people who don't work in religion who want a greater understanding of religion and the way it works in the world to be able to inform their sort of non religious life. And I found as I was performing and on stage that people were asking me for answers to questions I felt really unqualified to answer. Like I found myself in this unconventional ministerial position without undergoing any of the training. Like people were asking me for my perspective on politics, suicide, people were asking me to perform, marriages, depression. And I was like, I'm 24. Like, I have no idea. I was in no way any more qualified than anybody else to have an answer on these things. The thing that I really spent time learning about and being an expert in was music. But people didn't even really ask me about music much. And even that I was still early in learning and still am. And so the program, it was just really nice to have some quiet time to think about what I believed and really thinking about, you know, in this time that is more divisive than it's ever been. How do people come together and how do people create meaning? And I think at its core, music has always been the most sacred and most spiritual thing that I've ever been a part of. Whether it's being in the crowd at a show at an early age or being on stage with my band, when we're all jamming or playing music together and we just hit that right thing all at the same time, like something was telepathically communicated. That to me, it's just it's the closest thing I've ever felt to something divine. And so a lot of what I did was study religious theory and study the sort of like technical, philosophical ways that people think about and talk about religion and the structure of religion. And then I applied it to music and to touring and to festivals and used all of that to sort of create this system for myself to navigate some of these bigger questions I was having about ethics of having a public platform and sustainability within my career and how do I use the work that I love to do the most amount of good in the world?
Sam Brigger
If you're just joining us, our guest is Maggie Rogers. Her new album is Don't Forget Me. We'll hear more of our conversation after a break. I'm Sam Brigger and this is FRESH AIR WEEKEND.
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Sam Brigger
This is FRESH AIR weekend. I'm Sam Brigger. Lets get back to my interview with singer songwriter Maggie Rogers. This interview was recorded in May, soon after the release of her album Don't Forget Me. Rogers took a break from the touring life of a musician in 2021 to attend Harvard Divinity School, where she graduated with a master's in religion and public life. She was interested in examining the spirituality of public gatherings and the ethics of power in pop culture.
Maggie Rogers
So, Maggie, you know, the moment of your discovery was filmed and went viral. You were a student at NYU majoring in music product. Your class was visited by Pharrell Williams. He Came to sort of listen and give you some notes about what you guys were doing. You played him an early version of your song Alaska, and he was blown away by it. It's sweet because you both look kind of nervous and shy and, like, you're not sure whether you should, like, be seeing what he's thinking about your music.
Right.
Like, obviously, that's such an important moment in your career and partly fomented your success, but, like, is there a part of you that sometimes wishes that that video hadn't gone viral, that that was a moment that was more yours than everyone else's?
I mean, it was really, really scary when it happened. Like, I was incredibly overwhelmed, but it was also. It was complicated because I got the job that I had trained for and that I'd always wanted exactly in the moment when I needed a job. And yet it was so deeply and wildly out of my control. Like, it felt like something that was happening to me, even though it was something I had prepared for for, like, a decade at that point.
Right, because you've been performing for a long time, even writing, even making records.
Yeah, exactly. And then there was this moment where the door just opened. Part of me wishes that I got to upload that song and present my artistic statement, but also what's beautiful about the video is how unguarded it is. So if it happened any other way, it wouldn't be what it is. And I feel actually really lucky that the version of me that got introduced to the world is and was the most authentic version of myself, because that's the kind of art that I love and I've always been drawn towards making. And so, like, do I wish that I, like, brushed my hair and, like, put on a real outfit?
Would you still be wearing that necklace that's made of elk?
I mean, elk vertebrae?
Kathleen Hanna
Yeah.
Maggie Rogers
I mean, I think that that's the thing that's sort of wild and funny about it is, like, when I suddenly, overnight became a pop star, Like, I needed a lot of clothes, and all of the clothes I had were for, like, I lived in the studio. Like, I was a studio rat. And suddenly I needed, like, colorful, glittery outfits. And I was like, what do you mean I can't wear, like, my jeans and boots?
Let's hear a little bit of Alaska.
I was walking through icy streams that took my breath away Moving slowly through westward water over glacial pl. And I walked off you.
Kathleen Hanna
And it.
Maggie Rogers
Walked off and old me oh me oh my I thought it was a dream so it sing.
Kathleen Hanna
You and I the serenity you and all the ceremony.
Maggie Rogers
That's Maggie Rogers song Alaska. You know, Maggie, I'm not sure if it's because the song is called Alaska, but there's always something about the song that, like, for me, feels like there's a coolness to it. Like there's cold winds blowing. And I don't know if it's related to this, but you've said that you have synesthesia and that music has a color to you, and so you often, when you're writing, you create these, like, color mood boards for your songs. Could you describe that?
Yeah, I mean. Well, I think that the coldness that you're talking about in that song comes from the synthesizers and how smooth they are.
And sparse, too, kind of.
Exactly. There is space to it. But even in those background vocals that sort of come to help transition from the prechorus to the chorus, there is a sort of. It's a plait reverb. You know, there's a lot of different kinds of reverb, but a plate reverb is quite metallic in the way that it's designed. And I think that some of that smoothness of the synth and the way that the sonic palette of that song is designed does sort of represent the landscape I was talking about. And that, to me, is like. Is something I'm always trying to do, you know, make the music try and echo or tell the story of the emotion that it's soundtracking and that comes from. You know, I grew up really loving classical music and playing the harp in orchestras. And I remember my mom really early telling me to listen to orchestral music because they were telling a story without words. And I was just so, so taken with that idea. As far as these color mood boards go, I think it goes back to how fast everything was because I've always had a very strong connection to color and sound. But also, as I got sort of, like, thrown into the big dogs of the music industry and was suddenly working with all of these different collaborators after really just working alone for a really long time, putting down my thoughts and feelings of the sonic palette or texture that I was trying to create into a couple different one sheets, were really helpful to walk into different people's studios with, because I could show them in a couple different terms. Whether it was just blocks of color on a page or images I had pulled off of the Internet about how I wanted the record to feel. It was something that helped me communicate my artistic vision, but also keep things really coherent. Even as I was sort of navigating all of these wonderful new people that were coming into my life because of all of this new attention.
Did that also help, like in order to sort of assert yourself in those situations? Like, would people try to get you to record things in different ways? But you had like all these different ways of sort of showing that you were really in commitment of these songs and that these were your creations and you knew what was best for them.
I mean, I think I was lucky to work with a lot of really wonderful people who were true artists and.
Really and listen to you well.
And the work of a co producer is to serve the artist or to serve the art. I think that's also part of the reason that I was drawn to music production or to education in the first place because in so many ways, knowledge is power. And I got into music production because I was writing songs in high school and I couldn't get the guys to play my arrangements. So I learned how to program. I learned how to play the songs by myself and create the arrangements for drums and bass and synth and all these things on the computer because it was like a gender problem. And when I got to school and I could learn about engineering and software and production and microphones and drum technique, it became something that allowed me to protect my vision. They were just tools that allowed me to get the thing that I heard in my head down onto paper.
Well, Maggie Rogers, thanks so much for coming on FRESH air.
This has been such a dream. I have to just tell you, I'm a big, big FRESH AIR NPR girl. And this has been really thank you so much for having me.
Would you believe me now if I told you I got caught up in a wave almost gave it away. But you hear me out. If I told you I was terrified for days thought I was going to break oh, I couldn't stop it tried to slow it all down Crying in the bathroom had to figure it out with everyone around me saying you must be so happy now.
Kathleen Hanna
If you keep reaching out, then I'll keep coming back.
Maggie Rogers
If you go for good, then I'm okay with that. If you leave the light on, then I'll leave the light on.
Sam Brigger
That's Light on by Maggie Rogers from her album Heard it in a Past Life. Our next guest is the co founder of the Riot Grrrl movement, musician, writer and artist Kathleen Hanna. Her new memoir is called Rebel Girl, which is also the name of one of the best known songs by her band, Bikini Kill. Kathleen Hanna recently spoke about her life and work with FRESH air's Anne Marie Baldonado.
Maggie Rogers
We're Bikini Kill and we want revolution.
Kathleen Hanna
Girls hey girlfriend, I got a proposition Go something like this Tell you to do what you want Tell you to be who you will Tell you to cry, cry out loud. You got so emotional baby.
Kathleen Hannah has always been a force. She burst onto the music scene in the 90s as the front woman of Bikini Kill, a band that fearlessly confronted issues of sexism and sexual assault while encouraging female empowerment through their music. Her raw vocals and unapologetic lyrics helped challenge punk rock norms and inspired others to do so as well. Bikini Kill, along with other feminist punk bands, encouraged their fans to come to shows, write zines, and form girl bands of their own. As a way to fight the sexism that existed in punk and in wider society in general, Hannah created a space for young women to express themselves, fight against misogyny and build community. Bikini Kill made an enormous impact in music and in the lives of their fans, but as Hannah writes about in her new memoir, Rebel Girl, it took a toll. Helping fans deal with their experiences of sexual violence meant that she had to think about her own. In the book, she writes about all that, as well as her childhood, the building of her feminist art in college, starting and leaving bands, the face of a movement. She also writes about finding out that an undiagnosed case of Lyme disease was the reason she couldn't physically perform anymore. She's performing again with her band Bikini Kill and her other bands, Latigre and the Julie Ruin. Kathleen Hannah, welcome back to FRESH air.
Thanks for having me.
I'd like for you to start by reading a passage from the beginning of your book, Rebel Girl.
Sure. This is from the prologue. I want to tell you how I write songs and produce music, how singing makes me feel connected to a million miracles at once, how being on stage is the one place I feel the most me. But I can untangle all of that from the background that is male violence. I wish I could forget the guy who stalked me while I was making my solo record, how he sat on the roof of the building across from mine and looked into my windows with binoculars as I worked. How he told my neighbors he thought I was a prostitute who needed to be stopped. I wish I could slice him out of my story as a musician, but I can't. I also don't want this book to be a list of traumas, so I'm leaving a lot of that on the cutting room floor. It's more important to remember that I've seen ugly basement rooms transform into warm campfires. Dank Rockbro clubs become bright parties where girls and gay kids and misfits dance together in a sea of freedom and joy. Art galleries that had only ever showcased white male mediocrity become sites of thrilling feminist collaborations. I also ate gelato on a street in Milan with my bandmates and cried because it tasted that good. But, yeah, there were also rapes and run ins with jerks who threw water on my shine. I keep trying to make my rapes funny, but I have to stop doing that because they aren't. I want them to be stories, because stories are made up of words and words can't hurt me. But the things I'm writing about aren't stories. They're my blood. They're the things that shaped me. The things that keep me up at night rechecking the locks on the doors. The things that make me afraid and ashamed. The things that inspire me to keep going.
So speaking of your memoir and the title of your memoir, Rebel Girl, I wanted to ask you about that song. It was released in 1993. It ended up being produced by Joan Jett, who heard about Bikini Kill and wanted to work with you. And this song kind of became an anthem for the feminist punk movement of that time. Can you talk about writing that song?
Yeah, we wrote that one in the basement of this house called the Embassy. It was a punk house, and punk houses a lot of times have names. And this one was called the Embassy because it was pretty close to Embassy Row in D.C. and I always remember writing that song because it was one of those times where I was writing it as we were playing it. So they started coming up with the music, and as it became more full formed, I started hearing the first couple lines in my head, and I just stepped to the mic and then they just kind of fell out, and I stepped back and started thinking, okay, what's the chorus gonna be? Or, you know, I was, like, looking through poems and stuff I had in my notebook, and then I was just like, no, what are you feeling in this moment? I'm gonna feel this moment because in that moment, riot Grrrl meetings had just started in D.C. our friends bratmobile were playing shows and that we were just, you know, gobbling up like, you know, manna from heaven. And Joan Jetta just called me on the phone and said, I like your band. And I was just like, I'm not gonna look at my notebook. I'm gonna feel this feeling. And then I walked back to the mic and I just sang. And, you know, rebel girl, Rebel girl, you are the Queen of My World came out.
Well, let's hear my guest, Kathleen Hanna on the song Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill.
That girl thinks she's the queen of the neighborhood.
She got the hottest drag in town. That girl she holds her head on. I think I want to be your best friend, yeah. Rebel girl, Rebel girl, Rebel girl, you are the queen of my world. Rebel girl, Rebel girl I think I want to take you home. I want to try on your.
That's the song Rebel Girl from 1993 by the Band Bikini Kill. I think for a lot of people, that song is about you. You know, like you, a lot of girls, a lot of your fans wanted to be. But so you were thinking, who else were you thinking about when you wrote that song?
I mean, I was thinking about my friend Juliana Looking, who's a spoken word artist who really kind of mentored me. I was thinking about Toby. I was thinking about Kathy. I was thinking about Bikini Kelp, my Bikini Kill bandmates. You know, I was thinking about the girls in the Riot Grrrl meetings who were saying stuff like, you know, just crying because it was the first time they'd been in an all female atmosphere. And they were just like, whoa, this feels really weird. I'm confused. And then like, wait, why have I never made this a priority before? And just that feeling of, you know, a room changing, like, you know, just sitting at a crappy plastic office max table with a bunch of young women who have been relegated to the back of the room at punk shows for so long, finally saying, I've always wanted to start a band or hey, does anybody know how to play guitar? I'd like to learn. That's an amazing feeling that really kind of changes the room into this beautiful place of possibilities.
Sam Brigger
We're listening to the interview FRESH AIR's Anne Marie Baldonado recorded with Kathleen Hanna, co founder of the bands Bikini Kill and Latigre. Her new memoir is called Rebel Girl. We'll hear more of their conversation after a break. I'm Sam Brigger, and this is FRESH AIR Weekend.
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Kathleen Hanna
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Sam Brigger
This is FRESH AIR Weekend. I'm Sam Brigger, back with more of our interview with Kathleen Hanna. She's the front woman of the bands Bikini Kill and Latigre. She helped form the riot Grrrl movement, challenging the sexist punk scene in the 1990s. Her songs took on sexual assault, misogyny and female empowerment. Her memoir is called Rebel My Life is a Feminist Punk. She spoke with FRESH air's Anne Marie Baldonado.
Kathleen Hanna
Now, you were born in Portland, Oregon, but you spent a lot of your childhood in Maryland. Can you describe where you grew up and your family at that point?
We moved a lot all around Maryland. Like, we moved every three years. So I changed schools every three years. You know, we lived in kind of suburbs where not much was going on. And then we moved back to the Pacific Northwest and I changed schools. Even then in high school, I went to two different high schools. So I really started seeing the game and how at every school there was like kind of the same group breakdown of people, you know, like the popular rich kid clique, the stoners, the people who were into this kind of music, the people who were into that kind of music, people who are into sports, like, these kind of different groups and how a lot of the ways the interactions were so similar at every place that it just started to feel ridiculous to me. And I didn't have very many friends. I just sort of experimented with, like, what would it be like if I was in this group of people? What would it be like? And I think it gave me a chameleon like quality that definitely served me later when I had to grin and bear it through a lot of nonsense in the punk scene. But yeah, I think the moving a lot made me really turn to singing as my home.
Well, one of the first times you performed as a kid was in a musical. It was Annie. Can you talk about what you liked about performing at that point?
I didn't think of myself as a good singer, but I sang all the time by myself because it was a place that I felt safe. And I knew no matter where we lived, I could walk in the woods and sing or I could sing along to records in my room. Like, I didn't Want anybody to know And I didn't think I was good or, you know, whatever. I just. It was something that was fun. And then a friend of mine in, I guess it was fourth grade, Maureen Gaines, convinced me to go with her to an audition for Annie for the school play. And I got the part. And so in that moment, I was like, wait, other people think I can sing? Like, it was this real shock. Like, I was like, I didn't. I didn't realize that I actually had any kind of talent at it or that it sounded good to anybody beyond myself. So there was that kind of eureka moment. So I was, like, practicing, practicing, practicing, practicing. And then once it came time to be on stage, I just felt like it was the first time where I really expressed mainly sadness in front of a bunch of people. You know, like, even though, you know, I didn't write the lyrics myself, they definitely spoke to my situation and just the quality of my voice and what I could do with my voice. I felt like I was saying, I'm having a really hard time at home to, you know, a whole auditorium full of kids and grownups. And that felt really like a relief.
Well, you tell this story about what happened after the real performance, and that story is heartbreaking. Do you mind sharing it?
Yeah. I mean, I was feeling really proud of myself. And as we're getting to the car, my dad was saying, let's go get ice cream. And in my family, that really meant, like, you did a great job. You know what I mean? Like, nobody said, like, I love you, or, you know, like, oh, I'm so proud of you kind of thing. It was more like, we'll get ice cream. And that is code for we're proud of you. So I was like, they're proud of me. My parents thought I did great. Like, you know, I read all this stuff into it. Like, they thought my singing was great. They thought, you know, blah, blah, blah in my head. And then as I sit down in the car, my dad says, anyone who can make such a fool of themselves in front of that many people deserves an ice cream. And I was just like, oh, my God. Like, I just remember feeling, like, going from the top of the world to just, like, crashing, you know, on, like, concrete. And that was something that. On my dad's side of the family, I have to say, I gotta give them credit. They were so good at giving a compliment and then ripping it away. Like, it was almost a skill that they passed down from generation to generation. So while I think it's a hideous thing to say to a child. That moment also inspired me to keep going. Because the fact that that didn't stop me meant I really wanted it. And also, I didn't like my dad. I thought he was a jerk. So, like, I learned really early, like, whose opinion matters to you? You know, I came out the other end kind of being, like, more determined to get more involved in music at my school, because I was like, this is what I want, despite you.
Well, and there's this point in the book where you write about what your father went through. Like, he had siblings that passed away, and his father passed away, and he sort of never recover. And he carried this darkness, you say, into your house. And he drank a lot. But I felt like that was not that you gave that background, not to give him an excuse, but to maybe try to explain why he was the way he was.
Yeah, I mean, there's also great things about my dad. My dad always said, you need to go to college. And he wanted me to go to college because he, I think, took, like, one or two semesters and had to drop out to get a job because, you know, my sister was born. And he wanted that for me. And that was something beautiful that he gave me. I think it's complicated, and I think it's important to acknowledge that we can get positive things out of really negative situations. And, like, the experience of being shot down by my dad and keeping going was something that I still hold in my heart to this day in a way that is fuel.
When did you decide that you wanted to be a punk performer? You said that when you were a kid, you were always searching for a way to be heard. Was this that way?
You know, I moved to Olympia, Washington, to go to college, and it had a really thriving music scene. And they really defined punk in that town in a different way than I'd ever seen. I'd gone to punk shows in high school, and it was like, you know, kind of B versions of the Sex Pistols. You know, straight white guys who were like, I'm gonna spit on you. And it just was like a lot of toxic masculinity disguised as, you know, radicalness. So it's kind of like the beginning of the edgelord. But, yeah, when I moved to Olympia, there were all these kids who were making music and putting out records on small indie labels. And they sort of define punk not as a genre or a sound, a loud, angry, aggressive sound, but as an idea. As the idea that, you know, we don't have to wait for corporations to tell us what is Good music or art or writing, we can make it ourselves. So it's like, hey, let's put on a spoken word event. Let's put on a punk show at the Laundromat. It really was the town that gave me permission to do stuff. And I'd always wanted to be in a band, but sort of thought it was off limits. And this was the place that I saw people in bands just, like, walking around on the street. And I was like, well, if they can do it, I can do it. And at the same time, I was being really inspired by feminist performance artists like Karen Finley, who I saw live in Seattle and was just what this woman is doing on stage, going into from different voices, you know, getting naked and dumping chocolate and sprinkles on herself. You know, making fun of herself, while also being incredibly powerful. And so a lot of times, when I first started being in Bikini Kel, I thought of myself as a feminist performance artist who was in a punk band.
You went to college in Olympia, Washington, at Evergreen State, and you. You started out as a visual artist doing photography, and you also worked in sewing, like fashion. You also did a feminist fashion show, and you were working on this big project. You were at school late at night, so you weren't at your apartment. And your roommate, a close friend of yours, was attacked. She was assaulted in your apartment. It's a terrible story, and it's assault. That kind of propelled you to talk about violence against women even more in your work. And you also started volunteering with victims of violence. It seemed like it gave you, like, a framework for your feminism or thinking about oppression, but it also gave you tools to help the people that you were going to be encountering, like, very soon. You know, you started playing in bands while you were in college, and at your shows, you started to talk about sexism and sexual assault between songs or in your songs. And that's when girls in your audiences started to come up to you and talk to you after shows about their experiences with, you know, sexual violence and assault.
Yeah, I mean, it was really pretty amazing because I was like, oh, this actually is a great way to continue the work that I'm doing at Safe Place when I'm not able to volunteer. So I felt like it was just working. I was still doing further work for safeplace when I was doing, you know, counseling in an alleyway after a show. And that felt great to a certain extent. You know, after a while. It's a job that is a heavy burnout job where you can just get burnout to the point where you feel like, you know, you've been vampired and you have no blood in your body. So it is a lot to be in a band and to not. We had no crew, we had no management, we had no publicist, and we did everything ourselves. And then on top of it, I'm doing social work for free. So that was like having a lot of jobs and then actually a real job and going to school. So at a certain point, and it wasn't until many, many, many, many, many years later that I said, I need to pull back on this kind of one to one social work, which is what it was.
Now, Bikini Hill tried to make your shows a safe place for women, a safe space. Can you describe how and why you did that? Like it's of a particular time?
Yeah, we did stuff like handed out lyric sheets that had the lyrics on them so that other girls and women would know these are the lyrics and what the subject matter was. Because a lot of times you couldn't understand what I was saying through the crappy pas I was singing through and sometimes even talking in between songs, you couldn't understand what I was saying. And so that was one way that give them a souvenir to take home to read through and think about and maybe disagree with so that they start their own bands or it encourages them to write their own poetry or write their own scenes. We also had zines that talked about a lot of different political issues of the day that we sold at our shows. And I also, you know, we prioritized having girls and women come up to the front because a lot of the shows we were playing back then, it was, you know, straight cisgender, white guys predominating and taking up all the space of the room. And. And we really selfishly wanted to build community so we had more girl bands to play with. And how is that going to happen if they're all stuck in the back and they can't see us play and they can't see, oh, you know, that's how you do a drum fill or, you know, that's how you play, you know, three notes on the bass and make them sound really interesting. And so I started saying, you know, inviting the girls to the front, hey, do you guys want to come to the front? And then it kind of became a thing. It's like something that's actually meant to be an experiment, you know, in punk, it was like, what if we just rearrange this room a little bit? What's gonna happen? And what happened were you know, a lot of men were really mad and hated us. But it was also an interesting experiment.
Now, before your book, you'd never really talked publicly about being a parent. You're married to Adam Horovitz of Beastie Boys, and you have a son. And you've said you didn't want to talk about it because you didn't want to be asked those questions that people ask women artists about work, life, balance, and doing it all. And I totally get what you mean there. But I did want to ask why you decided to write about it.
Now I asked my son, whose name is Julius, I said, julius, you know, Mommy's writing a book. Do you want to be in it? And he's like, yeah, I better be. And so he's in it. And it felt really good to be able to write about being a parent, because it's a huge part of my life. You know, you learn a lot about who you are in the world by being a parent. And I think also with the current political situation, how do we talk to our kids about this stuff? How do we educate? You know, fun, awesome, wild, but good citizens? So these are conversations I'm looking forward to having and not dreading. I just. I didn't want, while I was actively promoting albums, to have, you know, constantly, like, you know, you and Adrock have a kid. That kid must be so cool. They must be so lucky. They must listen to Kraftwerk every day, you know, Like, I just didn't craft work. My kid did listen to Kraftwerk, actually, for a while. And he told me in the kitchen one time, he's like, mom, I know more about craft work than you. And you know what I replied? Go to your room. And it felt so good. I was like, don't childsplain craft work to me, Toddler.
Now, recently, you've been playing out again. The last couple years, you've had reunion tours with Bikini Kill and Latigra. And your shows when you were young were so, like, visceral. Do they still feel that way to you?
Oh, yeah. But I feel like there's so much more joy. Like, there's still. The anger's still there, but it's like a joyous anger. Cause it's like, you know, a lot of us are sitting at home yelling at the tv, and to get outside and, like, yell into a microphone and to have that release of, like, you know, it feels joyous to explore our anger in public. It feels joyous to be like, look, it's normal that we're all really upset and sad. And all these different emotions and they can all coexist together. And the songs really go from joy to sadness to rage very quickly. And I'm finding nuances in them that I didn't know were there in the lyrics. Yeah. And so I'm really enjoying the songs. And they feel very fresh. Like, it doesn't feel like, oh, God. I felt more that way about, like playing Rebel girl for the 800th time back in the 90s. And now I feel like so excited when it comes on because, I mean, the song really has legs because I can sing it about anybody in my head. We played a show in like 2019, and I got up on stage and I sang it and I thought about myself and I sang it to myself. I mean, and I felt like, proud, you know, that I kept going and that I didn't give up and that I was still making music and that I really love what I do and that I have such great friends. I felt grateful, I felt proud. And I sang that song directed at me. And I know that's probably really gross and embarrassing, but it felt amazing.
Well, Kathleen Hannah, it's been great talking with you. Thank you so much.
Thank you.
When she talks I hear the revolution in her ear says revolution when she wants. The revolution's coming and I can't. Rebel girl, Rebel girl, Rebel girl, you are the queen of the world. Rebel girl, Rebel girl, I know I want to take you home. I want a time you're close.
Sam Brigger
Kathleen Hannah spoke with FRESH air's Anne Marie Baldonado. Her memoir is called Rebel Girl, My Life as a Feminist Punk. FRESH AIR WEEKEND is produced by Theresa Madden. FRESH air's executive producer is Dani Miller. For Terry Gross and Tanya Mosley, I'm Sam Brieger.
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Fresh Air Podcast Episode Summary: Maggie Rogers & Kathleen Hanna
Podcast Information:
Introduction
In this compelling episode of Fresh Air Weekend, NPR host Sam Brigger delves into intimate conversations with two influential women in the music industry: singer-songwriter Maggie Rogers and punk pioneer Kathleen Hanna. Both artists share their journeys, creative processes, and the personal challenges they've overcome, offering listeners a deep understanding of their contributions to contemporary arts and feminist movements.
Career and Education Breakthrough
Maggie Rogers, known for her ethereal sound and poignant lyrics, discusses her pivotal moment of fame when Pharrell Williams discovered her during her time at NYU. This encounter, captured in a viral video, catapulted her into the spotlight. However, the sudden fame led to burnout, prompting Rogers to take a hiatus from touring and pursue a master's degree at Harvard Divinity School.
Spirituality and Music
Rogers emphasizes the sacredness of music in her life. She states, “At its core, music has always been the most sacred and most spiritual thing that I've ever been a part of” (00:35). Her studies focused on the spirituality of public gatherings and the ethics of power in pop culture, aiming to create a more sustainable life as a touring musician.
Songwriting and Nostalgia
In her latest album, Don't Forget Me, Rogers explores themes beyond her personal experiences by adopting personas in her songwriting. She shares, “I was able to weave this tapestry of all of these different memories throughout, really my 20s, I just turned 30 and I was sort of able to tell maybe even a more real version of the truth in telling fiction over the course of writing this record” (05:14). This approach allows her to address nostalgia, a recurring theme in her work, as she reflects on the passage of time and the preservation of memories through art.
Creative Process and Synesthesia
Rogers reveals her synesthesia, a condition that allows her to see colors when she hears music. This sensory crossover aids her in creating "color mood boards" for her songs, enhancing her ability to communicate her artistic vision to collaborators. “I could show them in a couple different terms. Whether it was just blocks of color on a page or images I had pulled off of the Internet about how I wanted the record to feel” (18:52).
Performance and Authenticity
Reflecting on her rise to fame, Rogers acknowledges the pressures of maintaining authenticity. She expresses gratitude for how her initial viral moment showcased her true self, stating, “I feel actually really lucky that the version of me that got introduced to the world is and was the most authentic version of myself” (16:23).
Notable Quotes:
Memoir and Personal Journey
Kathleen Hanna, co-founder of the Riot Grrrl movement and frontwoman of Bikini Kill, discusses her memoir, Rebel Girl, My Life as a Feminist Punk. The book chronicles her battle with Lyme disease, her activism against sexism in the punk scene, and her personal experiences with sexual violence. Hanna begins by reading a poignant passage from her memoir, highlighting the intertwining of her creative life with personal traumas.
Founding the Riot Grrrl Movement
Hanna recounts the inception of Bikini Kill and the Riot Grrrl movement in Olympia, Washington. She explains how the movement was less about the aggressive punk sound and more about fostering a DIY ethic and creating safe spaces for women. “We don't have to wait for corporations to tell us what is good music or art or writing; we can make it ourselves” (41:23).
Creating Safe Spaces
In response to rampant sexism and sexual assault, Hanna and her band took active steps to make their shows safe spaces for women. This included providing lyric sheets, distributing zines on political issues, and encouraging female participation in punk shows. “We handed out lyric sheets so that other girls and women would know these are the lyrics and what the subject matter was” (46:01).
Personal Struggles and Resilience
Hanna opens up about her difficult upbringing, her father's struggles, and the impact of her mother's support for her education. She shares the emotional toll of her roommate's assault and how it fueled her activism. “The experience of being shot down by my dad and keeping going was something that I still hold in my heart to this day in a way that is fuel” (40:03).
Parenting and Advocacy
Transitioning into her role as a parent, Hanna discusses including her son in her memoir and the lessons she's learning about raising children in a politically charged environment. “I think it's really a part of who I am” (49:39).
Reunion Tours and Evolving Performances
Hanna reflects on recent reunion tours with Bikini Kill and Latigre, noting a shift towards a more joyous expression of anger. “It feels joyous to explore our anger in public. It feels joyous to be like, look, it's normal that we're all really upset and sad” (49:52).
Notable Quotes:
Conclusion
This episode of Fresh Air Weekend offers an in-depth look into the lives of Maggie Rogers and Kathleen Hanna, two artists who have harnessed their music and personal experiences to effect change and inspire others. Through their stories, listeners gain insight into the intersection of art, activism, and personal growth, highlighting the enduring impact of music as a tool for expression and empowerment.
Key Takeaways:
This summary captures the essence of the episode, focusing on the meaningful discussions between Maggie Rogers and Kathleen Hanna, while excluding promotional content and advertisements.