ock’n’roll was started by men. Everything about it was derived from testosterone, forced out of a sexual energy that troubled only males. I think that’s why they call Elvis the King of Rock’n’Roll, because he was the first one to be really open about that. Before him, rock musicians seemed to play merely for fun, singing what sounded like simple, childish songs. It turned out later that even these were built on sexual impulses (look at what Chuck Berry had to do to get his kicks when he stopped playing music), but Elvis didn’t try to hide anything in the first place. His performances were completely charged with testosterone, and if they didn’t know it, the little girls who loved him felt it. You watch them on television, as they shake and reel right out of their skin, screaming with hidden arousal- Elvis straddled on top of them all, thrusting his dick at them, almost mocking their naivety. Looking at it feels almost pornographic. I don’t think a woman would have been able to evoke such a reaction, nor would she have wanted to. It has nothing to do with inherent strength or assertiveness, but simply with nature.


Granted, most of my experiences with women have occurred only through intermediaries such as my friends and my TV, but if I’ve understood anything, it’s that their sexuality is generally expressed in very different ways than that of men. This was nothing new to psychoanalysts even in the fifties, but nonetheless, female musicians have been trying to ignore it ever since rock’n’roll got started. They tossed out their own personalities in favor of calculated simulations- acts meant to resemble the ferocity with which men had attacked rock’n’roll so successfully. Women were trying to tap into chemicals that they biologically did not have, so the music they made sounded forced and unnaturally imitated. The female body was built for a wholly unique form of sexual expression, but instead of harnessing it, breaking what could have been a compelling new branch of rock’n’roll, too many women assimilated, resigning themselves to a men’s world.


Ultimately, if you’re honest, your record will be good no matter who you are. I don’t hear that in most "female music" I’ve encountered, and I think that’s why I’ve been so turned off by most of it. It’s not a sexist issue to me. I love bands like the Slits, the Patti Smith Group, the Shaggs, even PJ Harvey- all musicians known for being completely honest in their songs. That’s what I love, and that’s exactly what I miss in most female music. Reasonably or not, groups like Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill sound contrived to me, and for that reason I’ve come up with (invented?) my theory. We’re livin’ a post-Lilith world, girls, so make your records accordingly. None of that straight-for-the-kill feminism is ever going to work again, so show yourselves for who you are! Live and sing the ideal, don’t just dress up for the part. Take a cue from Pretty Girls Make Graves, the most visceral and authentically ferocious female-driven band in the world today.


Good Health is their debut album, and it transcends all gender stereotypes, all precedents, and all preconceived notions I ever had about women’s rock. Lead singer Andrea Zollo sounds frighteningly powerful, singing her lines with just as much power as Iggy Stooge and Johnny Rotten ever did on their best days. Forget testosterone as the driving force behind all that is strong and aggressive- Zollo has unearthed the very pits of the female condition, channeling a darkness and hostility that was apparently present in each and every one of her predecessors...


Each song is a storm. The band behind Zollo is absolutely impeccable, not missing a single beat as the tunes tumble forward with an animal velocity. The melodies are untouchable and Zollo’s singing voice is just as moving as her scream. The band match her in every conceivable way. Their arrangements are daring... bold assertions of capability... masterful variations (particularly on "Bring It On Golden Pond")... but most importantly, absolute, unstoppable mobility. PGMG are a hardcore band, but amazingly, their precision is such that it can only be compared to that of a 100-piece orchestra. It is stunning.


The album opens with "Speakers Push Air," a song that starts with the backing band demanding, maybe of Zollo, "Do you remember what the music meant to you?" About forty seconds in, she is propelled into the song, screaming with riveting conviction, "I found a place where it feels alright / I heard a record and it opened my eyes..." as if to say ‘Yeah, of course I remember. Who’d you think you’re talking to?’


The intensity never lets up. Not for a second. It doesn’t even matter where the songs start and where they end, because the whole thing moves us in exactly the same way. By the end of the album, after Andrea Zollo has clawed her way through years of underachievement and fraud, we are left utterly stupefied. If it could have been this good all along, why have they waited so long?