I Live Inside : Memoirs of a Babe in Toyland

In feminist music circles bands like Bikini Kill get all the attention when it comes to women in music during the '90s. This drives me crazy. There were so many women playing music then who just by existing, putting out records, and touring, were advancing women in music without wrapping themselves into any sort of political agenda. Bands like L7, Velocity Girl, Babes In Toyland, Lunachicks, Superchunk, Hole, Jawbox, Breeders, PJ Harvey, Fire Party, Tsunami, and Babes in Toyland were inspiring to women like me who were not drawn in by the Riot Grrrl movement. I wanted to be like them. I screamed / sang along to their records and I watched them take to the stage with a confidence that at the time, I didn't know was possible. They twisted the idea of what a women could look or sound like. They were not men but they were unlike any women I knew in my life. They played instruments I had never had the opportunity to strum or hit. They were loud, fearless, and this was intoxicating to me coming out of high school. My peers talk about Riot Grrrl bands in the same exact way, but honestly both music scenes helped pave the way and inspire others. I wish the books and film documenting this underground world credited these women in a more balanced way. This is why an entire book written by a musician who didn't have a spotlight on her continuously really intrigued me. I knew very little about Michelle Leon's life up until this point. Babes in Toyland while having a brief rise to popularity never held mainstream interest the way Hole did (thanks Nirvana) and her two bandmates often stole the attention because the focus always falls unfairly on the singer (Kat Bjelland) or the outgoing member (Lori Barbero)

What moves me most Babes In Toyland bass player Michelle Leon's book I Live Inside is how brutally honest it is. As an outsider who looked at their world in awe and wonder, she pulls the curtain back to reveal a very imperfect and emotionally complicated band chemistry. A band projects this illusion of a better, out of this world environment that is easy for fans to want to escape to and get lost in. They are so far removed from the mundane 9 to 5 world of school, desk jobs, and dull responsibilities. From the audience perspective Babes in Toyland was bold, raw, and shared a bond that couldn't possibly be anything less than sacred sisterhood. The truth is that like any family, it was dysfunctional and often chaotic and maddening. It is hard to fathom the real life happening behind the scenes of these songs that are as familiar to me as any photo in my family albums, but the transparency of her words found in this memoir are as as pure as the music she once made. A band's life is a private and I Live Inside reveals many of their secrets.

It was and continues to be a brave thing to join a band and put yourself out into the world for all to hear, see, and judge. You live in three worlds at the same time: the private world that is you outside of the band in the real world, the one that is a member of a band family who spend most of the time off stage in a bubble, and then the band chemistry as musicians who write music and perform it together and this is the facade given to strangers. These world's all affect each other and become a tangled, complicated knot. Michelle Leon moves back and forth between childhood and her time in the band to reveal how these different worlds connect, influence each other, and often clash. Leon moves between the past and present like a masterful storyteller.   

All people carry insecurities yet playing music is one of the few times and places one can feel untethered and free. The weight of the world slips away behind an instrument or microphone. Music offers the unique experience of being able to lose and find yourself all at once. We become the essence of ourselves through music and creating this non tangible version of self becomes addicting. It can feel like a safe place but it is also an easy place to drift off course in. Musicians often end up floating helplessly between between the real world and band world. This is where the story often gets messy. To pin this invisible energy to the page isn't an easy task but I Live Inside rebuilds this journey in a one of a kind way. We travel with Michelle back in forth in time, strapped into the passenger seat unsure of where we might arrive ncxt. Just like music, her book is the safest vehicle to to experience a terrifyingly wild ride without collecting any of the bumps and bruises along the way.

If you are not familiar with the band, here is a top 10 from their catalog to get you started.


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Throwback Thursday : Lunachicks

Bands like Kiss, The Stooges, and the Ramones never appealed to me as a kid mostly because it seemed like a boys club. I liked heavy music but by the late '80s most of the hardcore and metal scene felt almost exclusively made by men and for men. The audience included women however at shows women were rarely up front by the stage where the pit was often violent or targeted any girl who dare enter that frenzied male dominated arena. 

It was frustrating to like a style of music, have the same aggression and teenage hormones as the boys in the room, but still feel pushed to the back of the room and unwelcomed. It wasn't until 1990 that I discovered bands like L7, Babes in Toyland, STP, Hole, and Lunachicks who were the first women I had ever seen not just play heavy music but dominate it. These bands were a tight unit of girls that looked like a gang (minus Hole who had a male member) and I wanted to be a part of. They were tough, loud, could play their instruments, drank, spit, cursed, screamed, had tattoos, performed in filthy dark clubs, and proved to me that there was room in punk / grunge / metal for ladies too. 

These women all seemed fearless and each member took on a slightly different shade of rebellion so there was room to be as feminine, masculine, or anything in between you felt best fit you. This is the stuff of awe to a teenage girl who didn't think there was room for women in hard rock. Riot Grrrl was just starting to bubble up on the other side of the country so for those of us who were teens in the '80s looking for women to inspire us on a stage who were loud and angry, these were our heroines and they came first. 

The Lunachicks were perhaps the biggest influence to me because I could see them perform the most often. They were a New York City all female band who played NY and NJ relatively often from the late '80s through the '90s. I enjoyed that they played heavy / fast music and looked tougher than any guy I knew. I mean this was a band that looked tougher than any local male musicians I knew and they were heavily tattooed before this was cool or accepted in popular culture. Hell, one of the members was a tattoo artist, something incredibly bad ass to teenage me.  

Their vocalist Theo Kogan depending on her over the top theatrical costume choices could also rival an exoctic runway model. She could magically morph herself into any freak character, had a sense of humor, carried kitsch like an extreme version of the B-52s, but was still insanely strong. I had never seen a women present such a intense balance of feminine and masculine characteristics.

I worshipped the Lunachicks but sort of feared for my life in their presence too. It was a lot to process while I was in high school trying to feel comfortable in my own skin but they were the perfect storm of bold to give me the inspiration to join a band a few years later. They are also probably why I got my first tattoo as a senior in high school much to everyone's horror. They and L7 are also why I had dreads in 1990. They were also the first band to deliver a mosh pit that welcomed women which is something to this day I rarely see. Thanks ladies.