Jazz Wives

I had to spend some time questioning myself over the content of this particular post, as I am anxious to be seen as someone who supports my music loving sisters, music fans and woman generally. Justification however has emerged in the form of meditation on early stimuli, and it seems only fair to write the negative as well as the positive influences.

On this oppressively hot day, my mind is cast back to summers during secondary school when I was often called upon to help as a sort of unofficial child minder and babysitter. I was seen as a sensible teenager, ‘good with children’ and a relatively experienced pair of hands coming from a vast family of siblings, nieces, nephews and cousins. Anyway, as a result I was called upon to do multiple evening duties, which was basically easy money; my charges were nearly always in bed and I could sit and watch the telly or listen to music. I recall one charming, comfortably off couple who had a wondrous sound system including a Linn Sondek, and speakers which cost £1200 each. They welcomed the fact that I was a music appreciator and urged me to listen to their record collection - which I duly did.

Aside from all of this, telly options were limited (four channels only) and any number of programmes were sampled, including weird 1960s shit with random laughing and cosmic camera work, but also lots of arts documentaries. Of these, the rock ones are the ones that feature most strongly in my memory, and from this emerged an uncomfortable phenomena which has never entirely faded away; that of the ‘rock wife.’ I use this as a general term meaning ‘wife,’ girlfriend,’ ‘partner’ or some equivalent - you know what I mean anyway. I was disturbed by these women’s apparent lack of ambition; their whole purpose in life seemed to be to hang around in the vicinity of famous musicians. There were pictures of them draping over mega stars (always men), accompanying them on tour, literally sitting at their feet and doing precisely - nothing. I couldn’t (and still don’t) understand it; they must have been so bored. Apart from being an available shag on demand, what on earth were they doing all day? What possible life fulfilment or personal development was that? I recoiled - and still do - at the mind numbing lack of purpose. I didn’t want to be Jimi Hendrix’s girlfriend - I wanted to be Jimi Hendrix.

Later on, when I started going to jazz gigs, I saw a similar (albeit more sophisticated looking) version of the rock groupie - the jazz wife. The costumes were more glamorous (beehive type hairdos, strong, French looking make up, more glitzy clothes) - but they essentially served the same purpose; looking adoringly at their men, saying as little as possible and apparently having no life except to be at their beck and call. Am I being unkind? Perhaps - but here is just one personal experience which underlined this and still makes me spit with rage…

A few years ago, when our kids were little and money was tight, I took a message from a band leader who was passing on details about a gig my husband, Big C was playing in. On asking him to clarify something, this bandleader said to me with exasperation ‘honestly - band wives!’ Every sinew in my body became taut with white hot anger; ‘what the fuck did you just say? How dare you speak to me like that? I am not here just to meekly pass on your fucking messages you arrogant twat.’

I didn’t say any of that of course. Like I said, we were desperate for the money so I ended the call quickly and left it at that. Besides I reasoned, he was old. But the point is this; by then I had founded and was musically directing two bands, had spent years teaching and freelancing and felt confident that the world had moved on. This evidence showed and still demonstrates that there remains work to do. Remember, it is only one example and I have never documented how many times similar treatment has occurred, only far too often. Understanding the drip drip effect of this is important; it irritates you, wears you down, makes you feel as if you have to smile at crass comments rather than being a grumpy git. It makes you weary and despondent. But underneath it all it leaves a simmering anger; I have heard young women referred to as ‘good little players,’ girls being guided towards tuned percussion rather than drumkit, other excellent female trumpeters being encouraged to play second or third trumpet rather than lead. For years, turning up early at functions (always, as the drummer) it has automatically been assumed that I am the singer. As a conductor, I have continually been looked past whilst the organiser looks for ‘who is in charge.’ This is happening right now. Girls are still reluctant to take drum lessons, learn the bass, brass instruments, play lead guitar, take solos, take charge. Males meanwhile continue to play all of these, direct all of the more ‘serious’ ensembles and assume a gravitas that women find very difficult to step into. It is changing, but far, far slower than I ever imagined it would.

So how do we accelerate change? I have had to face the uncomfortable fact that many of the women I described at the beginning believed this was the lifestyle they wanted, and were quite happy to be defined as ‘so and so’s wife/girlfriend/partner/chief groupie.’ I also have to face the fact that lots of girls didn’t and don’t want to play the drums/electric guitar/tuba. They maybe prefer to sing or play the flute or the violin. That is their choice, as valid as it is for boys to move away from the traditionally male roles. I equally don’t want girls to feel that need to ‘make a point’ by choosing a path that doesn’t interest them; I have too many times heard well-intentioned encouragement from those who say ‘You play drums/conduct?’ (as if I am making some sort of political gesture) - good for you!’ I’m not. I’m just trying to be an honest musician. But it would be nice if they really have a choice, genuinely have their horizons widened and deeply believe they can conquer their world if they want to. That will come about through role models, positive discrimination and continued encouragement.

I will leave the last word to Tracey Thorn, of whom I have recently become a fan after reading her book ‘Bedsit Disco Queen.’ I think of young girls when I read this excerpt, but it’s for everyone really:

‘…I attempted to forge a new adult persona for myself, using punk-rock singles as a kind of catalyst to bring into being, with a lot of unexpected heat and light, a person who was ME, really, truly ME, and not just a mini version of my parents…’

Thanks Tracey. Excellent food for thought.

Uplifting music of the day: Talkin’ ‘bout a revolution’ by Tracy Chapman. I have been feeling studenty today and this song reminds me of that period. Tracy manages to take a really simple chord sequence and turn it into something soulful and profound. I’m not usually a lyrics person, but they speak with such integrity. She also happens to be an earthy, resonant singer with wonderful phrasing and great tuning.

Contemplative music of the day: Of course it had to be ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ - as arranged and performed by ‘Everything But The Girl.’ This particular version of the Rod Stewart song is tastefully put together and of course is wonderfully realised by Tracey Thorn and her partner Ben Watts.