The raging success of the rock underground is the country’s current crop of all-girl bands. But they hate being lumped together — more so in an article about, well, all-girl bands. They certainly don’t want to be demoted by gender. They want to be artists first.
In a traditionally male-run genre true recognition must hinge on musical quality, they believe, not bra size.
Bringing together three leading all-girl punk rock bands in a single narrative is risky. However, no rock star is only a musician — those artists join the nu folk club. Rock stars by their nature are a number of things: self-promoters, marketers and vagabonds.
Hardcore girl rockers have always held a coveted position in the dreamscape of rock ‘n’ roll, given their scarcity. There is something enigmatic about women empowered by electric guitars. The stereotype we are fed is one of drugging foul mouths, rampant sexaholics, tattooed and pierced lesbian bitches. They literally morph into their chauvinist male counterparts, holding up a finger to feminism.
But times are changing. The three bands in question — Running with Scissors, Mitsoo and Rokkeloos — are determined to be appreciated for their music alone. I have decided to nickname them punk kittens — better, I reckon, than pussies.
The punk kitten is quick to pledge her freedom from drugs, to declare her commitment to music and to reject a lesbian label for a self-righteous attitude to sex. Since when, you may well ask, have punks preached family values? Surely they’re not seeking airplay on Radio Jacaranda — or 5fm?
I went picking at the scab.
Hailing from Cape Town, Mitsoo look the part with wild hair, piercings and tattoos. The band members are anti drugs. Each has a “real” occupation, a two-year plan and they sing of the ills of suburbia and society at large. They are the most serious, straight-laced of the bunch. They don’t party — it is too much for them — and joke that “we all sleep together”. But they don’t. At most they smooch, they say. They claim to be intellectual girls, in touch with their feelings and attracted more to minds than genders.
The band was initiated by a classified advert placed by drummer Anita Carstens, although some of the members have changed since then. They are unaware of whether they have a lesbian following and say their male groupies are shy, not wanting to be noticed by their mates.
I met them on their Jo’burg tour at Buzz 9 in Melville. The interview was high drama, interrupted by food orders and one of the girls bursting into tears after speaking to her son.
This heightened emotional state is a special quality of the punk kitten — after all, rock is the medium of angst.
Mitsoo’s new album is The Misfortune of the Unicycle Bear. The sound leans toward nu-metal, with impromptu riffs and a sublime sense of guitar chaos. The melancholy of Sonic Youth comes to mind, especially since lead singer Karen van Niekerk admits that she hasn’t written a single song down but improvises each in performance — and presumably, then, on the album.
Next up, I met Rokkeloos at Cool Runnings in Hatfield, Pretoria, where they first met as waitresses united by their love of local music.
Over-opinionated, still working in restaurants, living on rice and baked beans, going through a permanent “sexual phase” and partying hard, these four also come across quite raunchy. They mention their celebrity groupies: Paul Riekert (who produced their CD) and Chris Chameleon (who shags the lead singer). They call themselves female chauvinists and don’t tolerate victimised women or men who treat them nice to get something out of them. They have a serious attitude, even though their lead singer is called Prinses Petro.
Rokkeloos’s album is called Nooiens-vaart. The songs certainly have the most original sound of the three bands. Johannes Kerkorrel-like riffs result in a previously unheard genre — kwela punk. Since they sing in Afrikaans they probably won’t make it on to the airwaves. You have to like them for their humour — they mention “klippies en cocaine” and sing: “Ek hou van melktert … brandewyn … skaapbraai … en hard naai [I like milktart … brandy … sheep braai … and fucking hard].”
Leading the pack in terms of commercial success is Running with Scissors. They were the first South African band to reach Gareth Cliff’s listener’s hit list — although he dissed them constantly. Despite what Cliff may say, the songs are catchy.
These are the punk fat cats, and the only band actually drinking when I meet them at lead singer Caroline Hillary’s townhouse in Linden. A bickering bunch, they quibble over everything, especially whether to let me note that they are not 100% straight. They also concede that they don’t wish to alienate their highly dedicated lesbian fanbase, some of whom may turn into obsessive stalkers. Anyway, at length, they gave me the go ahead. “She’s going to note us down as an alcoholic, lesbian band with a sick fan following. We’re going to have to clean this up,” complains bassist Michelle Nortje.
They claim that in their previous outfit, The Phoebes, they played trashed all the time. However, when they got a management deal and started getting big gigs (like Woodstock), they realised it was just too embarrassing.
The album Beautifully Bruised by Running with Scissors is a power punk sound akin to old-school Green Day. Band members prefer to explain it as a fusion of L7 and Blink 182 coupled with poetic lyrics in the vein of Patti Smith, Tori Amos and Courtney Love. The album is easy, palatable and strangely addictive. The band complains that the album was badly mastered.
The point, then, is that these punk kittens are not hardcore stereotypes. They are shy pussies who want to be scratched behind the ears — loved for their public onslaught, not for their private parts.