Wait, Are You Saying that Some Double-X Chromosomers Actually "Rock"?
I HATE Rolling Stone's annual "Women in Rock" issue for many reasons. Here are some of them.
1. EVERY friggin issue of Rolling Stone is the "Women in Rock" issue--except that it's usually the Topless Girls in Rock issue. Or the Jennifer Love Hewitt Can't Sing, But She's Got Big Hooters! issue. Or the Look at the Hot Female Groupie Who is Currently Sucking on Julian Casablancas' Earlobes issue. And then once a year, Jan Wenner says "Okay, boys! Slap a photo of Britney on the cover--but don't put her in a thong this time! She needs to be a positive female role model. So put her in a skimpy midrif top and ripped up jeans that let her boney thighs poke through!"
2. Who do they profile in their pages? Not Wynne Greenwood. Not Karen O. Not Brody Armstrong. Not any of the great new female artists--even the good old standby of token female-ism, riot grrl-gone-wild Kathleen Hanna was ignored. Not even the splendor of Sleater-Kinney and Lil Kim could stand against the inclusion of Jewel. And Mandy Moore. And Michelle Branch. And Avril Lavigne. And Cher, for chissakes--we're anxiously waiting for her to reappear in the Drag Queens of the Stone Age issue. (Hey, if that's not a real issue, it should be.)
3. Of all of the fantastic female rock critics in this country, Rolling Stone picks three of 'em and has them basically write the entire issue. Nuff respect to Jenny Eliscu, Jancee Dunn, and Mim Udovitch--who are great representatives for the rest of us--but I'd love to see Laura Sinagra, Kate Sullivan, Alison Rosen, Jessica Winter, Sarah Vowell, Lisa Carver, Debbie Stoller, Monica Kendrick, or even Ann Powers herself in that issue.
4. What's with this Best Albums Made By Women chart? The whole premise--maybe it's as an excuse for not including women in their regular Best Albums list--is so arbitrary it's ridiculous. What's next, Best Albums Made By Musicians?
Which reminds me, did anyone notice that the lineup for last Sunday's Electroclash Tour was all female? No, I didn't either--isn't it better that way? My friends and I agreed that Peaches' performance that night was better than even Iggy Pop's last First Ave show. (Although if Iggy keeps shrinking in stature, and Peaches keeps wearing those dildo pants, the difference between the two will be more difficult to distinguish.) She was marching around like her white stiletto boots were made for walking, screaming with lungs that would defy any soundbite from Ladyhawk, and declaring with pride that she writes her own beats. (Said beats sounded like Fad Gadget dropped into an oily vat of french fries.) Who knows?Maybe we'll see her tonguing Mandy Moore on the next cover of Rolling Stone's "Women in Rock" issue.
2:15:39 PM 
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