Bass Player® Magazine April, 2004.

  "It's taken millennia, but women have just begun to break the bonds of social convention, belly up to the bar, turn up loud, and groove very hard."  

   Okay, so It's happened to many women who play in bands a million times ... but what is it that is so offensive about someone — especially a man — approaching you and saying, "Gee I've never seen a woman play like that before!" I've played with women who would likely spit in the face of someone who'd say such a "sexist" thing. My reply in those situations is usually a polite thank you, but my silent thoughts are more like, "You're probably right!"

   I continue to find that people of all sorts are still awed by the sight and sound of a woman really getting down on her instrument. They simply haven't experienced such a thing all that often. The observer himself may feel a little uncomfortable with it, but their attention is captivated nonetheless. But for women to take any offense in such situations is not only silly, it's ignorant. These girls need to sit right down and take a history lesson. Perhaps then they could truly take stock of their special place among the ladies emerita who have themselves been the first very full generation of women to exercise the freedom of creative expression in all media, especially music. It's taken millennia, but women have just begun to break the bonds of social convention, bully up to the bar, turn up loud, and groove very hard.

Discrimination is a fact of human nature. People naturally develop preferences for certain "flavors" of all things. We cultivate preferences and play favorites in so many ways every day. (I like vanilla ice cream better than chocolate.) There is not a musician alive today who hasn't been the victim of discrimination for some reason, maybe even getting let go from a gig for looking "too good."

 

But a few decades ago, thousands of years of paternal dominance got shot to hell by one woman in a leopard catsuit with a flatpick and a Fender bass. How did this happen? It's called the free market, and it's the only place an artistic talent can seek its own level within our society. If you have the product - that is, the sound, the feel, the thing - then you have a gig. Carol Kaye had just that thing, and she deserves to take her rightful place not only as the first woman to break into the upper echelon of the recording industry, but as one of the most recorded bassists of all times. The free market will exert its forces to level the playing field for anyone who is qualified to perform the job and has the right flavor.

When I asked to play the drums in grade school I was handed a flute, but young girls growing up now have learned from the role models my generation has provided and are already taking the possibilities for granted. To them it's like, of course girls play bass or drums or whatever they want to. But here we are at the dawn of a new century, and women are out there doing their own thing, contributing to the arts and music industries in ways they've never been able to before: Playing instruments they never played, composing volumes of popular music, and often running the show from behind the curtain. Our generation of women has enjoyed these freedoms first, and no other generation but ours will savour the same bittersweet taste of success we have had. So I say to these women with the chip on their shoulder or the scowl on their brow: Hey! We've been a part of accomplishing something that no other generation of women has ever been able to do. Just in doing that we are special, and I for one don't mind enjoying that moment in the historical spotlight.                BP

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