In March, I started blogging about my fondness for singer/songwriters of the mid to late 90's. Joan Osborne, Melissa Etheridge, Sophie B. Hawkins, Jewel, ... The list is long. Though I've felt gender dysphoria to some degree going back to at least the age of 5, I didn't see the connection to my music listening. I heard "Come to My Window" and "Damn, I Wish I was Your Lover", and resonated so closely to it, while not exactly realizing how Sapphic the music was. Sort of like when I saw Bryan Adams's video for "Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman" on VH1. The romantic accompaniment of Paco de Lucia's flamenco style guitar playing made me even more fascinated in finger style guitar playing. 20 years later, I find the music video online, and notice what may have been the steamiest scenes of queer female erotica in a music video. At least for that time. Maybe it was the music that I was listening to. Maybe in conjunction with my watching "Xena", "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and "Charmed". It was probably no coincidence that a female classmate who would eventually come out had a crush on me when we were in middle school, and a male classmate deduced that being attracted to females made me "a dyke". All three of us eventually came out as members of the "LGBTQA+" community, and I find those little moments to stand out as weirdly telling in retrospect. Although, the d-word is still often considered a slur, it was a more accurate read than when high school classmates called me a "stud" for being able to relate closely with female peers. LOL That's when I was a high school student studying Georgia O'Keeffe's work. If that's not a big enough sign of the lesbian inside, I was censored by an "all boys high school" when my (non-blossoming) floral artwork featuring St. Francis of Assisi was "too feminine" for the school's public image. I got back at the system with a piece in the school art show where a depiction of French kiss was so close-cropped that people could see the sensuality without clearly noticing the anatomical features. Georgia O'Keeffe would be so damn proud!
In college, I began realizing goals of seeing those Lilith Fair era performers. And it started with Liz Phair. Delilah's radio programming made for such a soothing space for me to work on art assignments. It's how I learned about Eva Cassidy and Martina McBride. In my 20's I learned about Pandora, and that allowed me to just immerse myself in a musical vibe. Typing the names "Eva Cassidy" or "Sarah McLachlan" would open doors to the Cowboy Junkies, Odessa Jorgenson, Patty Griffin, the Wailin' Jennys, and Po' Girl. It led me to Brandi Carlile. And the Waifs. I eventually started coming out, and attended Brandi Carlile's 2022 concert at the TD Garden with guests Brittany Howard and Allison Russell (formerly of Po' Girl). The concert's billing was so focused on queer women that it brought in such a great concentration of LGBTQ women to that concert. I felt this profound sense of community among strangers. What we shared was more than common music interests, and more than witnessing that night firsthand. It was the next year that I got to see Alanis Morrisette, Tegan & Sara, the Beaches, the Aces, and Fletcher. Sitting on a hillside of the Harvard Athletic complex with other queer women, I learned about Fletcher and saw that the crowd singing along with "Becky's So Hot". This year, I started seeing more women from those early Lilith Fair tours. Emmylou Harris and Joan Osborne within weeks of each other. As those concerts neared, I looked ahead in the 2024 concert schedule, and saw "Melissa Etheridge & the Indigo Girls".
I couldn't believe that two of the biggest LGBTQ acts from the Lilith Fair were touring together again. Immediately, I realized the potential for this show at the Leader Bank Pavilion to glow with a sense of queer female community akin to a Fletcher concert or Brandi Carlile's big night at TD Garden. The best seating that I could get was on the concourse just outside the venue's massive tent. Like being at Dead & Company show, I didn't mind being that far from the stage because such a show's audience was a part of the experience. The length of these ladies' careers casts such a wide night that it draws together a multigenerational shared fanbase from all over Massachusetts (if not further).
The concert was on a Saturday night, and the optimist in me was hoping that the Orange Line would be running smoothly. Standing along the platform, I saw that the nearest train was "20+" minutes out. I consulted with the MBTA's online trip planner, and found the best option to be a bus trip through Dorchester. I take this second bus in order to get to a subway station in the southern neighborhoods of Boston. I then took the Red Line to South Station, and the Silver Line to South Boston's Waterfront. When I got through the gate, the Indigo Girls were halfway through their set. Seeing so many women of all kinds of ages (and most identifying as some variety of queer), I was amazed. It was the type of audience showing that I imagine happened at that hose early Lilith Fair tours. While I felt a strong connection, the scale of the audience did have me taken aback. Through so many songs, everyone sang along. During the refrain for "Share the Moon" a concert tradition of single claps was performed by this huge crowd in unison. I quietly asked an usher where my seat was (the concourse is set up like metal lawn furniture, with chars centering around different tables). While I missed an appearance by Rufus Wainwright's half-sister Lucy, I was there in time for Galileo. And for a performance of "Closer to Fine" with Melissa Etheridge joining in.
How does this lovefest get better? Etheridge invited the Indigo Girls out to join in for the romantic "You Can Sleep While I Drive". In the context of that being a love song, I imagine that at least some you readers know the emotional depth and meaning that song. Some people who I spoke with after that weekend were like "So...? She can drive." In a layman's description, I'll more explicitly say it's about a couple's love, intimacy, and trust. Through my Pandora listening, I was familiar with songs like "Bring Me Some Water". It was the three big singles from her 1993 album "Yes I Am" that brought me right back to where I was when listening to the CD, and when I would hear the songs on the radio. The song "I want to Come Over" about passionate longing and a woman who hasn't come out to her husband says so much, evokes so much, and resonates so closely with each generation of women in attendance. While we were all singing along, I couldn't help but imagine how each individual person has their now specific experience of discovering this magical song. That magic and commonality unites all, and while people complained about the AV technology, everyone's voices reverberating around that tent made for such a memorable experience.
I had no idea that Melissa Etheridge had attended Berklee School of Music for a short time. The nostalgic feels got her sharing stories about playing Boston clubs, finding lesbian venues in a 70's Boston where meeting places were subversive (while still following the riots at Stonewall Inn and Compton's Cafeteria). Melissa reflected on a lover from the 80's and demonstrated how they'd dance to George Michael's solo work. Slow-dancing with a sway back guitar, she supported the neck of the guitar, and the crowd's listening intensified when Melissa cupped the convex body of the guitar. Etheridge knows her audience, and knew how that would thrill the crowd.
Toward the end of the night, I did admittedly feel some gender dysphoria. While people there were so welcoming, and I felt so at home with the music, there were different lived experiences That others had gone through to reach this point. LGBTQ women of so many generations. Mostly AFAB (a 21st century acronym which stands for "assigned female at birth"). ... I had to remind myself that trans women also have a place in the queer female community. Walking to State Street station, I found reassurance from some YouTube videos by Natalia Zhikhareva, Ph.D (better known in the LGBTQ community as "Dr. Z").
It has taken a long time for me to put into writing that moment of insecurity. Hearing "I Want to Come Over" play on the radio today returned me back to that sense of a musical home. In time with the lyrics (although in different context), that connectivity was all that I need to know. It gave me confidence to get back to my writing. Finally, I can bring this entry to an appropriate completion, and free myself up to talk about Boyce Avenue's show at the Brighton Music Hall. For next time.
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