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| PJ Harvey, April 15, 2001 at the Rose Garden. |
April 15, 2001. Easter Sunday. MY FIRST ROCK CONCERT! My first trip on the MAX. What a great night. PJ Harvey opened for U2. Bono sang "I Remember You," dedicated to Joey Ramone, who had just passed away earlier in the day.
* * *
I met her at the Rose Garden Arena, my first real rock concert. After a day on Burnside, a hitch on the MAX from 2nd Street and over the river, I was vibrating in anticipation of seeing U2. My friend and I handed our tickets to the dark-haired ticket dude, and wandered into the coliseum where we could hear the opening band already playing. After gawking at the U2 paraphernalia (some "after" pics can be seen on my FB) we wandered up to the nosebleed section where our seats were located. I could practically reach up and touch the ceiling.
A song has finished, and another is beginning. I look to the stage.
There she is, in her glittering miniskirt, her shiny stiletto boots, an iridescent v-neck top, and a guitar that might be bigger than her. Her voice sinks me into my seat. She owns my attention while people all around me chatter as though the ground has not moved from under us, as though she is not throwing sonic arrows deep into our hearts. I remember thinking, "What is wrong with these people? How can we do anything but listen?" And for the first time someone is speaking to me on a primal level that totally connects, that brings forth the visceral feelings of violence, passion, desperation, tenderness into one cohesive force that fills me to brim over.
This is the song I heard. (This live version is from later in 2001, and she's wearing the same boots/skirt from when I saw her.)
I remember her voice, the songs she sang even though I'd never heard them before. I was beguiled by her high notes, her growls, her ferocious intensity. And yet, she had the power to be vulnerable, too, and emotionally honest.
PJ Harvey, glorious music goddess. If I had to narrow it down to one artist/band to love and listen to for the rest of my life, it would be her. But I've got to set the stage for my completest obsession and total admiration for this artist.
One of the great things that I've discovered about getting older, is my increasing ability to ask questions. Sometimes those questions are "why?" or "why not?" (Thanks, Yoko! Check out these two fantastic Plastic Ono Band songs if you like Experimental/Punk music!). Questions that began to plague me during my freshman year in college:
Why don't I have any female musicians I can fully identify with?
I'm just not a big pop/folk fan. These genres contain the most easily accessible female artists in our culture. I hear tell there's some sexism in the music industry...and I'm not going to spend time talking about it, because the person who can't see it is missing their eyeballs.
Asking this question helped me see sexism for what it is-- not just in music, but everywhere.
Asking this question helped me see sexism for what it is-- not just in music, but everywhere.
Where can I find out about female musicians?
DIY at its best. Headed my little lonesome down to Powell's on Burnside, of course. I owe these two gems for giving me history and leads. I owe Napster for letting me sample before spending my dough.
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| I LOVE this book cover. |
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| O'Brien is an awesome writer. |
Who is speaking for me about my experience as a woman in this world?
A man sure can't. This question sent me running on my marathon of musical discovery. I'm still going! I'm still discovering!
So where does PJ enter into things?
Maybe I will bring an imaginary child into this story. I will name her "imaginary daughter", or Id. ;)
My daughter, Id, when young girls become young women, they find that there is a fire that burns within them. For many, they turn the fire against themselves, and burn all the things that the world does not like. If this were so, you might see a woman who has strong feelings become a woman who tears down other women that have strong feelings. A woman who will fawn and preen in order to impress, and never ask herself what she feels or thinks in her hidden heart. She will burn herself forever, like a lump of coal in hell. For other girls, they turn the fire outward, they are filled with anger that the world does not like who they are. Sometimes the currents of the world turn the fire back on its owner, and she must let the fire roar even larger to make a space within her for the new growth of her person-hood.
Your mother was a violent young woman; she was meek and quiet, and had her nose stuck in a book most of the time, but when she was on the basketball court, even the 6'4" girls had a tough time making a lay-up.
Your mother's anger made room for her to learn to speak with the voice she lost when she was a teenager.
I hope she will nod sagaciously.
My corps of discovery grew as I explored. Jeff Buckley walked me to a parking meter where I met Patti Smith, Nico sat with me in a smoky den (she did not offer me drugs!), Tori held my hand, Bjork invited me to belt out songs with her, and many other women told me their stories. PJ Harvey awaited me ahead.
I met her at the Rose Garden Arena, my first real rock concert. After a day on Burnside, a hitch on the MAX from 2nd Street and over the river, I was vibrating in anticipation of seeing U2. My friend and I handed our tickets to the dark-haired ticket dude, and wandered into the coliseum where we could hear the opening band already playing. After gawking at the U2 paraphernalia (some "after" pics can be seen on my FB) we wandered up to the nosebleed section where our seats were located. I could practically reach up and touch the ceiling.
A song has finished, and another is beginning. I look to the stage.
There she is, in her glittering miniskirt, her shiny stiletto boots, an iridescent v-neck top, and a guitar that might be bigger than her. Her voice sinks me into my seat. She owns my attention while people all around me chatter as though the ground has not moved from under us, as though she is not throwing sonic arrows deep into our hearts. I remember thinking, "What is wrong with these people? How can we do anything but listen?" And for the first time someone is speaking to me on a primal level that totally connects, that brings forth the visceral feelings of violence, passion, desperation, tenderness into one cohesive force that fills me to brim over.
This is the song I heard. (This live version is from later in 2001, and she's wearing the same boots/skirt from when I saw her.)
I remember her voice, the songs she sang even though I'd never heard them before. I was beguiled by her high notes, her growls, her ferocious intensity. And yet, she had the power to be vulnerable, too, and emotionally honest.
PJ doesn't play the audience on sex appeal-- her appeal is a by-product of her confidence, of her musical conviction. She is PJ Harvey on no one else's terms. She does not waste time addressing her songs to the male gaze, as most female pop-stars do. Her songs and videos on this album really capture her gaze.
I bought the promo video for "This is Love" on ebay and watched it more times than I can count. This is a woman who is totally comfortable with herself and performing and singing on her own terms. I can't get enough. (I regret to inform you that the following video is cut off at the end, which reduces its awesomeness, but it's the best I could find on the web.)
One of the many appeals of PJ Harvey is that she is a woman who dares you to look her in the eyes. She doesn't blink.
I love her for this.
I love that her music cuts to the bone, that it can be menacing in it's naked honesty, that it can express joy and the exhilarating feeling of what it means to be alive or in love.
Her music helps me connect to what it means to be me in all shades of expression and experience, without judgment.
PJ Harvey changed my life.
I love her for this.
I love that her music cuts to the bone, that it can be menacing in it's naked honesty, that it can express joy and the exhilarating feeling of what it means to be alive or in love.
Her music helps me connect to what it means to be me in all shades of expression and experience, without judgment.
PJ Harvey changed my life.
* * *
Finally, here is a song-- from the year I fell in love with Ryan-- that means a lot to me.
Another picture of my favorite woman, from the fateful night of April 15, 2001.
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