Photos: Maggie Vaughn/Shepherd Express
Though the reasons for it, even beyond simple, odious chauvinism, are likely complex enough to fill volumes, women undeniably still face an uphill battle in the music industry, forever unfairly being asked to justify their presence despite having handily done so since the dawn of the medium. Even on a local level, where opportunities may be scarce and competition fierce, but where it’s also conversely easier to actually build relationships with other artists, their voices are often dispersed, atomized amongst a million bro-bands with dated rock star postures. Thankfully, events like Riverwest FemFest, now in its second year, offer a necessary corrective, reminding audiences, as well as the artists themselves, that there are indeed a hell of a lot of women doing interesting things throughout the city, and that there’s strength in numbers.
Of course, whenever you group together acts based on something as arbitrary as the gender makeup of their membership, you’re bound to get a mixed bag, especially and when you pack 50-plus into a four-day span, but Sunday’s penultimate bill at Company Brewing offered a high ratio of sure things to possible misses. Getting things started was punk poetess Emily Bee, whose relatively short set, rife with images of complicated relationships and combat boots, gave way to the good-times garage rock of the always reliable Ramma Lamma, the inspirational “Hot Stuff” proving especially rousing. Following them was Chicago band Beat Drun Juel, trafficking in a sort of overwrought grunge-punk that left a lot to be desired, and another poet, Beth Emilie, whose performance featured copious metaphysically sexual themes and some rather confusing nudity.
Next was up-and-coming singer Fivy, specializing in a gauzy, jazz-infused R&B that’s remarkably sure of itself if in dire need of a decent rhythm section, and dream-pop outfit NO/NO, who closed a tight set, drawn from their two impeccable EPs, with a rough-hewn yet promising new number. Then came a scene-stealing performance from rapper Queen Tut, whose aesthetic seamlessly blends street toughness with consciousness-expanding content, as implied by the title of her debut full-length, Psychedelic Traphouse. Her last couple songs featured strings from members of Ruth B8r Ginsberg who, after an earnest but cliché-ridden entry from poet Emma DeBord, rounded things out with their harmony-laden modern Americana. Altogether it was admirably eclectic and enjoyable; factor in all the money raised for Date Rape Awareness Milwaukee ($10,000, the organizers announced at the end of the night) and you have a weekend filled with palpably genuine positivity.
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