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The Laramie Project

If you attended an event in early spring of 2019, there was a sense that it was the last you would see your friends.  From the news reports on COVID and many towns passing policies on public gatherings, it felt like a time of change.  September of 2025 felt the same way.  The violence and the negative repercussions to any statement with certain ideologies feels more akin to a Black Mirror episode than what life should be like.  It is still too early to tell what changes will happen to public discourse and diversity of thought, but the floor is covered in delicate eggshells.

In that same September 2025, I was fortunate enough to work on a local production of The Laramie Project, a docu-play of Laramie, Wyoming following the death of Matthew Shepard.  As with most community theatres, New Bern Civic Theatre (NBCT) plans their yearly schedule one to two years in advance.  Therefore they had no way of knowing how poignant the themes of hate crimes, stochastic violence, and religion would be to the present.  The Laramie Project was created as its subject matter was occurring in 1998 and 1999, and it is staged to resemble a documentary to emphasize the reality of its content.  The minimal cast plays multiple roles of Moisés Kaufman, the Tectonic Theatre Project, and the citizens of Laramie, Wyoming.  Actors stay on stage, changing costumes to show the change in characters, and the overall design is made to focus on the spoken word, rather than spectacle.  In addition, there are news reports, re-enactments, and courtroom scenes that break up the monologues and interviews.  This is not an easy play to watch, especially when you are working on the light board, and must sit through multiple viewings of weighty emotions and hate speech.  It was all I could do to keep silent night after night, and I always had a box of tissues handy.

It is odd enough that a rural North Carolina town would stage such a play, not only for the politics, but for the three-act length, and the fact that straight dramatic plays are dry to a casual tourist town.  In fact, the next play in the schedule was Monty Python’s Spamalot and it was already sold out during The Laramie Project’s run.  The director of NBCT’s production, Siobhan Brewer, knew this was a dream project and that every chance to bring this play to the different corners of rural America was critical.  I felt that the stars aligned for Brewer and made it a perfect production.  The cast and crew had a diverse collection of allies and folk from across the LGBTQ+ spectrum.  There was a deep emotional connection to the material that enhanced every performance.  Additionally one cast member had direct ties to the Matthew Shepard case and to Laramie.  On the first Sunday matinee, there was a post-showing discussion with a correctional officer who was in Wyoming in 1998.

Each showing filled about half the seats, however the audience was ready to learn and be changed by the show.  The reviews were reflective and avoided the superlatives that a more entertaining production would earn.  Surprisingly the only disruptions were an occasional snorer, and not any of the vocal conservative activists who reside in the area.  To give you an idea of the climate of rural Eastern North Carolina, there are several town hall regulars who decry the “lack of bibles” in school libraries, and the Gadsden flag decorates many lawns.  My theory on how this production slipped under the radar was that the local pride organization had sponsored the show.  Therefore, only those who were interested in supporting New Bern Pride attended the show.  Secondly, The Laramie Project and Matthew Shepard are not in the forefront of today’s news.  Matthew Shepard’s story is not on any of the major banned book lists in recent years, and Laramie has been quietly out of the news for many years.  With these lessons in mind, other theatres who want to support their communities can do so without drawing the ire of violent detractors.  It is what brings me hope.  H-O-P-E, hope.

SoundGirls Aesthetic Noise Review

I am writing this book review while listening to Delia Derbyshire, Steve Reich, and Melt-Banana.  My family is not impressed, but the textures help me concentrate.  Their choice of focus ambience is blasting sing-a-longs or podcasts.  Words and loudness.  Those sounds in addition to other noises like the air-conditioning unit, refrigerator, and fluorescent light hum push my metaphorical buttons.  The overstimulation amplifies my lingering post-partum depression and admittedly, I get snappy.  Why are some types of noise triggering to me?  That’s what Dr. Mary Mazurek wants to find out.  Of course, not for me personally, but in taking the torch from Daphne Oram ( see my previous review of An Individual Note), Mazurek is finding out the thought behind noise as an art medium.

Aesthetic Noise: The Philosophy of Intentional Listening is an expansion of Mazurek’s doctoral dissertation.  Dr. Mary Mazurek is an assistant professor at the University of Lethbridge, a GRAMMY-nominated recording engineer, the DEI Chair of AES, and interdisciplinary artist, among other important positions.  In transforming her dissertation into a book, Mazurek brings her expertise and tests her theories through her students.  Aesthetic Noise is a challenging philosophic read because words are defined in context, but it is rewarding in enlightenment and can apply to more than just sonic “noise.”

Mazurek guides us through the various lenses of philosophy and psychology to define beauty and art.  We then use them to view noise and the contexts where it can be deemed useful and beauteous. We are still allowed to dislike listening to noise, manipulated or otherwise, but we are given the chance to change our minds.  We are invited to explore the works of those who are creating noise as a medium of expression.  Mazurek provides examples like Sun O))), Steve Reich, Alyce Santoro and Alison Knowles as a starting point, and a program to prepare us for the experience.

For those who have not given noise a chance, it might seem coincidental that I had mentioned Steve Reich, and that Mazurek dedicates several thought experiments to his works.  However I want to highlight Reich’s music as a starting point into aesthetic noise for several reasons.  His work is about human justice, and his work (or at least the examples in Aesthetic Noise) uses human speech.  Unlike the drones of Sun O))), speech is something that we are used to dedicating attention to.  Come Out and Different Trains are both still as relevant as when they were first created.  The first using a recording of Daniel Hamm, one of the Harlem Six, a victim of police brutality.  The latter piece compared rail travel of Reich’s youth to similar aged individuals who had rode rail cars during the Holocaust.  The trauma brought out by both, and the political stances they represent are somehow more controversial in public discourse than Martin Heidegger and Julia Kristeva (also represented in this book).  Dr. Mazurek does focus on the message, biography, and impact of Reich’s work, but does not add any outside context to the philosophers whose theories she uses to define art and beauty.  It is assumed their names, their philosophical movements, and other background information is known.  And maybe, that is a failure on my part, being not the intended audience of post-graduate students of arts and philosophy.

Looking past that Mazurek uses Kristeva and Heidegger in addition to other philosophers like Jacques Derrida, and Aristotle to give noise a chance to be beautiful.  In Aesthetic Noise we view noise as truth and revealing, noise in context and through a frame of reference, noise as ugliness to bring about a release of emotion.  It is a positive conclusion, and yet it still allows a possibility for its rejection from art.  Mazurek also allows the definition of noise to stretch beyond the sonic realm.  By using interdisciplinary performances like Happenings and Event Scores (although her examples still use sonic noise as a connecting thread) the possibility of her philosophy can be expanded to cover other mediums of noise.

Aesthetic Noise is more than Advanced Music Appreciation. It is a bridge between the neuroscience of This is What It Sounds Like by Susan Rogers and the manifesto of An Individual Note by Daphne Oram.  It is part of the canon to redefine what music composition and art can look like.  Included is a post-graduate syllabus of Mazurek’s own Aesthetic Noise class, for those that want to challenge themselves.  The appendices of Aesthetic Noise will help those who are more visual or aural learners with playlists, book lists, and references.  Also included are the notes from Mazurek’s experience of teaching class, which applies the philosophy to the layperson directly.  Although my ears already enjoy aesthetic noise, I feel that I can now dissect my tastes with greater precision.

How Women Made Music Review

In 2015 the Ink N Iron Festival in Nashville was, on paper, an utter failure.  No-show Headliners, abysmal attendance, and sweltering heat all plagued what had promised to be a showcase of alternative culture centered around rusty vintage vehicles and bold tattoos.  However, in my eyes, it was my most memorable concert experience.  What introvert could argue with no lines, clean portalets, and front row seats with general admission prices?  The performances were legendary.  Wanda Jackson, at a few years shy of 80, hollered with a Jack White-picked back-up band to an audience of burlesque dancers and other headliners.  And in between her rockabilly hits she dished out juicy stories of her tours with Elvis.  Although the true highlight was Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings in the year before her death to pancreatic cancer, kicking off her shoes and dancing as though she was twenty years young.

What does this memory have to do with a book review?  How Women Made Music edited by Alison Fensterstock is a collection of such memories, with interviews and opinion pieces curated from Turning the Tables series on NPR.  The series was developed to even the balance of articles written by and about men.  If you look at the top 50 of Rolling Stones’ top 500 albums only a measly 18% are by bands or acts with at least 2 members who are women.  That is not even a quarter of the albums.  Turning the Tables are making their own lists, writing their own articles, doing their own interviews.  Underappreciated no more.

Even though Turning the Tables is no longer active, they cemented their legacy with a book, a highlight reel of what their several years of work created.  Included in the appendices are their ranked lists of albums and artists, inviting the reader to do their own aural research.  The lists also help bridge the gap between what made it into the book and the amazing talent that just missed the cut.  How Women Made Music is divided into arbitrary categories, grouping artists based on their stage presence and influence rather than telling a history of modern music through a feminine gaze.  Chapter headings aside, the categories take a backseat for an opportunity to showcase the intersectionality of artistry.  While American Pop Music has the largest representation, How Women Made Music makes an effort to display a spectrum: of genres, gender expression, of culture.  In transitioning Turning the Tables to a book, what I feel is the weakest aspect of How Women Made Music is how much was omitted.  To dedicate enough ink to each selection meant a smaller number of artists included in the main text.  There are genres that have deeply rooted patriarchal stereotypes like metal and mariachi that could have more pages dedicated to the feminine iconoclasts.  In addition, I felt the book did not venture far outside the United States.  In choosing NPR as source material, they could have focused on US-based charts to make their selections, and then partner later with other publications to broaden their scope, but they decided to dabble somewhat with artists of other regions.  But I digress, I am delighted in who they decided to include.  And the writing is edifying journalism paired with insightful interviews.

When writing about women, especially in an industry dominated by men, there are common tropes that journalists cling to.  This book is no exception.  With many of the articles and interviews, there is a highlight of the reaction to the competitiveness of an industry dominated by men.  The women are showcased as first, as role models for others, as leaders and mentors.  All of these fail the “Finkbeiner Test,” an unofficial metric of measuring how stagnant journalists are at writing about women.  In the basic nature of Turning the Tables, yes, the articles are going to fail the test on the basis that they seek out to write about women who influenced music.  However, by curating a massive collection of writings, NPR has provided an opportunity for future music journalists to move beyond the over-trodden path.  Turning the Tables has written about the oft-forgotten, the behind-the-scenes muses, the iconoclasts and the pioneers.  Those women who needed to be interviewed and written about in order to document their influence now have ink dedicated to them.  Now we can move on to writing and interviewing without the tired cliches.  Write about artists being influential because of their accomplishments, let them claim their superlatives without asterix.  Shake up the homogenized top lists that lack the depth to truly represent the best.  How Women Made Music is a stepping stone in that direction, a resource to give you the knowledge to do better.

Review of A Song for a New Day

So far the books I have reviewed for SoundGirls are all non-fiction.  While I would love to start the year off with escapism in an idyllic setting filled with joyous music, I must share with you a book that will ignite and inspire.  Sarah Pinsker’s debut novel A Song for a New Day is a book written for us, the SoundGirl community.  Fittingly, Pinsker herself is also a singer-songwriter with the band Stalking Horses.  A Song for a New Day however caught attention for being published at the right time, earning a Nebula Award for Best Novel in 2019.  Yes, 2019, the year that the world stood still.

If you look for A Song for a New Day in the bookstore you will find it amongst the Sci-Fi shelves, but that broad genre does it a disservice.  This novel fits squarely in the speculative fiction subgenre of science fiction.  Speculative fiction is the near future where you will find The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and other martian-less stories.  The majority of A Song for a New Day occurs after a pandemic where there are laws against gathering in large groups.  Unlike COVID-19, the disease leaves visible scarring and no longer returns as a seasonal illness.  It also is not spoken of by name, instead the characters refer to “Before” and “After.”  In fact many of the large scale changes and political actors are not the focus, but rather the lives of everyday people.

A Song for a New Day follows 2 women in mismatched timelines as they live during and after a pandemic.  Luce Cannon, the first, is a musician on the brink of becoming a big touring star.  Rosemary Laws, the other, is stuck in a dead-end service job for a mega-corporation in a rural farm in the middle of the country.  It was surreal reading their stories and looking at how the COVID-19 pandemic has played out 5 years in.  Luce and Rosemary’s reality took remote work and social distancing more seriously, implementing strict occupancy limits and self-driving cars that are like individual high speed trains with dedicated roads.  Constant connectivity is aided by the portable “hoodie,” a garment integrated with a display, speakers and a wide-variety of augmented reality features.  Several companies took control of the pandemic-led disruption: Superwally, an amalgamation of Amazon and Walmart making same-day deliveries standard; and StageHoloLive, what Ticketmaster and Spotify wished they could be.  It is not a big leap to see our real future as similar, especially if you are tuned into the news.

Pisker keeps the story engaging by switching the two perspectives.  Their character growths are different, but related and makes the reader ask difficult questions.  What do we do with our knowledge and position?  How do we live with the new normal?  If we resist, how do we resist?  How do we build community when we are isolated?  How do we remember the last event before the world changed?  Even as we are forced to confront these questions, the story gives brevity with music.  The unique background of live music that Pisker brings infuses vibrancy and excitement to each musical performance.  What StageHoloLive attempts with the hoodies, Pisker succeeds with words to immerse the reader in all 5 senses.

If you are looking for a live music experience in book format, A Song for a New Day provides.  However, you will also hit with reality, dialed up to 11.  Fiction is a reflection of our present.  As a mirror it can help us look at ourselves as if we are strangers.  This perspective informs us on what actions to take.  The message from A Song for a New Day is that the show continues.  How do we keep the music going in 2025 and beyond?

33 ⅓ The Raincoats

Finishing off the year with a lighter read is The Raincoats by Jenn Pelly.  This book is part of 33 ⅓, a series that deep dives into beloved albums.  I found this copy while on an annual west coast trip and I took a routine pilgrimage to the SeaTac SubPop store.  Among the collection of cassettes, LP’s, and other merch, there was a collection of bite size books, each boasting classic titles.  I scanned for something I could share with SoundGirls and a magenta spine stood out.

I am a self-declared riot grrrl fan, and therefore Fairytale in the Supermarket and Lola are on regular rotation.  Their sound is rough and full of energy.  Even though their sound matches the 90’s feminist grunge movement, they predate them by over a decade.  I was not aware of that fact before this book.  And, for those not familiar with their self-titled album, it sports a painting from Chinese propaganda of school children singing a song, I was not even aware of what the members even looked like.

Bordered by magenta and black, this petite book sports the The Raincoats self-titled album cover.  Inside is a perfect travel read while listening to the album in question. Author Jenn Pelly writes reviews for Pitchfork and other large publications.  Her hand is deft at demystifying the mythos around the Raincoats.

The Raincoats are a band that, while adjacent to British punk of the 70’s, are not cemented to any time or place.  The members have ties to The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Slits, Patti Smith, and X-Ray Spex.  They hailed from Spain, Portugal, and England, but made their home in the squats of London.  This book introduces us to the band, their background, their ethos.  We are on a journey of song creation.  After the band introductions we are led through the track list, with the starting with the post-release addendum of Fairytale in the Supermarket.  Pelly shows us that this is a band not afraid of changes, of learning, and of discussions.  We get the whole picture through interviews and Polaroids.

Reading about The Raincoats reminded me of the crew of The Maiden, the yacht that made the first all-female crew to place in the Whitbred Round the World Race chronicled in the 2018 documentary Maiden.  Both groups had their own power, and did things their own way.  They also took the initiative to document their journey.  As if they knew their voices would be important to others, but also because it was important to themselves.  This is zine culture, creating a record of your history, because who else is going to tell it?  The boys are all looking away, but you know you are creating something of value.  Jenn Pelly adds to that narrative.  She includes quips from those who were influenced by The Raincoats, lyrics woven through narratives, handmade flyers, and tour diaries.  This is The Raincoats in their own words, and we are The Raincoats.  We can write about ourselves, we won’t get lost in ‘The Void.’

Pistols in St. Paul’s Review

In a previous article I discussed Sonic Tourism, traveling to delight the ears. I highlighted the Mormon Tabernacle in Salt Lake City as one building of note. I had been in Salt Lake City at that moment to visit the Acoustical Society of America’s Conference to present a project I had been working on as an undergraduate student. Combining the aural delight reverberating in an architectural beauty with the cutting edge research was something that I thought would be a rare experience for me. However, I received an advance copy of Pistols in St Paul’s: Science, music, and architecture in the twentieth century by Fiona Smyth to review and I was immersed in that convergence once again. This review is my honest reflection on Pistols in St Paul’s.

Fiona Smyth, an Associate Professor School of Art History and Cultural Policy at University College Dublin, is a historian of building science and acoustics. Pistols in St Paul’s is a culmination of years of research including her doctoral thesis. It is obvious from the first page that Smyth loves her subject, as care is taken to take the reader beyond the velvet rope of tour guides and into the drama of the history of Architectural Acoustics.

Architectural Acoustics is the science behind buildings as an instrument. The main methods of controlling the sonic ambience of a building is to either design it with acoustics in mind, and to add treatment once the building is completed. Quoting a theme from Pistols in St Paul’s, Architectural Acoustics is “the space between.” It is art and science, tangible and intangible. As a field it began as a multi-disciplinary collection of experts, and based on my own experience at an ASA convention it still is. A few of the fields that are represented in this book are physiology, SONAR, architecture, mechanical engineering, electronics, and physics.

Smyth begins her history of Architectural Acoustics starting in the late 1800’s and progressing to the titular event in the 1950’s. The sections are arranged chronologically, and grouped by major research experiments. Pistols of St Paul’s focuses on London and the influence of Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA.) While there are excursions to the United States and British occupied India, it makes sense to focus on RIBA and their influence on the development of standards of practice. The narrative coming from one perspective allows the reader to focus on how an architect in England might have incorporated Acoustics into their designs over the years. There are physicists and architects who come together to quantize the field with observations and strategic concerts. There is also the realization of the importance of Acoustics that coincides with leaps in understanding sound as a science. But with every major leap forward there are setbacks that come from inflated egos, slow communication, and even world wars.

Another aspect that Smyth choses to focus on is the social importance of acoustics. Many of the buildings chosen for the experiments are public buildings used as gathering spaces. For these buildings they might be used for orchestral performances, speeches, debates, or a combination of the above. Buildings with infamous acoustics become maligned in the press. Other more fortunate buildings may be the key to boosting Post-War morale by hosting nation-building concerts.

Fiona Smyth draws you into the world with her anecdotes and descriptions, and the historical photos add to the context. While I did notice that RIBA and many of the characters in Pistols in St Paul’s are part of a boy’s club, there was an instance of women supporting women. Smyth calls out Emily Thompson’s contribution to the study of Acoustical History. And just like some of the characters in Pistols in St Paul’s there is across the pond multidisciplinary collaboration, with Thompson focusing more on the history of American Audio Technology. Overall, Pistol’s in St Paul’s is a riveting history of the formation of Acoustics as a serious field of science. I find it essential to the context of contemporary concert hall design. And to a casual tourist to Architectural Acoustics, it is an insightful museum guide.

Women in Vinyl Review

Continuing on my quest to read ALL of the Audiobooks written by women and gender non-conforming individuals, Women in Vinyl: The Art of Making Vinyl written by Jenn D’Eugenio came across my desk.  As a self-proclaimed nerd, I love vinyl, therefore this book would have found its way into my library anyway.  Jenn D’Eugenio founded the Women in Vinyl non-profit to uplift marginalized humans working in vinyl.  After starting as a blog to share individual stories, it has become a resource hub that even has a podcast.  D’Eugenio herself is the Sales and Customer Service Director of Gold Rush Vinyl in Austin Texas.

Each interview has the same formula.  There is a short biography, then 4 questions: motivation for getting into the industry, favorite thing about working in vinyl, advice for folk wanting to work with vinyl, and what they wished more people knew about vinyl.  The interviews are organized based on the vinyl manufacturing process.  Starting from mastering, then lacquer cutting, electroplating, through the distribution and marketing and including DJ-ing.  For many of the women featured in the book, there is a love of listening to music.  While enjoying consuming music is emphasized, music performance is only necessary for the DJ’s.  Working in vinyl allowed them the chance to have a job they loved.  That love translates into the uniqueness of vinyl and prolongs it as a medium for music consumption.

If you follow Soundgirls, some of these names are familiar.  The vinyl industry is only a small branch within the music industry and requires people to work multiple roles.  Also, many of the women interviewed are involved in outreach in vinyl and the music industry.  D’Eugenio addresses why there is an overlap between the Women in Vinyl biographies and the board of Women in Vinyl.  At a panel discussing women in vinyl, and realizing the panel was more about vinyl in general, Jenn D’Eugenio and her fellow panelists realized there was a need to highlight those who work with vinyl that are not just men.  And just like that original panel, the book reads as a collection of experiences of working with vinyl.  Even though vinyl is a billion-dollar industry, through Women in Vinyl it still feels tight-knit.

I found myself pouring through the interviews like a deluxe fanzine.  Women in Vinyl makes for a smaller coffee table book that is sparse on pictures but essential for placing next to your turntable.  Unlike some of my other reviews that collect names and interviews in one volume, this is not a “pioneer” or “history-maker” grab-bag, but instead the names of those who touch and care for your records before they reach your hands.  They are the ‘Mothers of Vinyl,’ standing proud as their children spin on record players in homes worldwide.

Find out more about Women in Vinyl

Loud: Tana Douglas Rocks Hard

 

At first glance Loud: A Life in Rock’n’roll by the world’s first female roadie by Tana Douglas is a scintillating look behind the scenes of some of the biggest rock bands.  There’s sex and drugs to go with the rock’n’roll as Douglas unloads juicy moments with every load out.  From a well-stocked trailer parked on the lawn at Windsor Gardens to a dog getting into a stash at an Australian after-party, there’s something for everyone.  Douglas also rubs shoulders with the likes of Paul McCartney, Iggy Pop, Ozzy Osbourne, and Neil Diamond.  But behind the star-studded cast is the history of the modern road crew from the 1970s to the 1990s.

After starting out in behind-the-times Australia, Douglas jumps from one mega show to the next where the cutting edge of stage shows dazzle audiences around the world.  The stories chronicle how stage lighting becomes an attraction that threatens to overshadow the bands themselves.  Through the blood and sweat of the road crews, the productions increase in size and complexity.  Sound, lighting, and rigging mature as industries and require teams and trucks.  Douglas includes the grittiness and pain of long nights and safety playing catch up to daring feats.  The drugs, and recklessness take their toll, but still, the show goes on.

How much could be packed in 350 pages?  One might be forgiven for thinking this book glorifies the roadie life from a summary.  However, Tana Douglas never forgets she is a woman in a “man’s world.”  Where Douglas bares her vulnerabilities is where this book really shines.  Her isolation, her difficulties as a child, a partner, and as a parent hits hard.  I found myself wishing happy endings for Douglas, but knowing that her truth is more common.  Loud is the perfect snapshot of the life of the roadie with all the highs and all the lows.  I recommend reading about the rock’n’roll life of Tana Douglas to anyone interested in touring shows.  Bring your earplugs.

More on Tana Douglas

Review of The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic

Jessica Hopper wanted me personally to read  The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic, and you, too.  In the afterword of the 2021 edition, she notes how essential it is to create and consume media outside the culturally accepted norm.  Female critics like Hopper provide a much-needed perspective on artists that would otherwise go undervalued.  It is empowering to read reviews from a feminist view, and the reader uses their purchasing power to uplift the author.

Hopper puts pieces of herself in the reviews.  We see her growth from fangirl to respected writer and her journey from Midwest suburbia to Chicago to Los Angeles and beyond.  We see the music that shapes her worldview and the music that breaks its boundaries.  Her path is both similar to her peers and uniquely her own.  Hopper’s story could be yours, and that is what makes this collection powerful.  She is a mentor through text.

Not every review is written with a feminist focal point.  However, when her sharpened pen targets the masculine majority opinion, there is no mercy.  No genre is safe: punk, country, rap, and rock.  Hopper champions women forgotten and maligned.  Her piece on Rolling Stone‘s editorial department highlighted those who blazed the path that Hopper would later trek.  There’s enough meat for a Hidden Figures treatment of their story.

In both the afterword and throughout the collection, Hopper reaches out to women in all parts of the music industry.  From fan to artist she says thank you, I hear you, keep being you.  We need each other to build a better industry.  If there’s no space for you in the pit, elbow your way in and stay there, and bring your squad.

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