Kim Gordon
Sonic Youth is one of the first bands I remember ever getting really into, and it opened up a whole world to me. Being a little girl playing music, I was automatically thirsty for heroes — and Kim Gordon was an immediate light switch on. That was the first time I ever listened to any nonlinear, noisy, ambient, abstract music, and seeing a woman right at the forefront of it definitely did something to my brain. I was 13 or 14, putting the pieces together. Sonic Youth is one of the big reasons I started playing in alternate tunings — I wanted to emulate. I still am like, “Would Kim Gordon think this was cool?” I see her as a beacon of inspiration and true artistic genius.
Later, I read her book, Girl in a Band, and I loved hearing everything from her perspective. Something that stuck with me in a big way is where she was talking about people searching for some kind of out to how harsh the music is by noticing that there’s a woman, and being like,
“OK, I’m not scared anymore.” And she’s like, “You should be scared. I’m not here to provide anyone comfort.” I thought about that for a long time, and it always comes back to me. I sometimes find myself kind of dulling down the way that I present myself to people so as to be likable. You don’t want people to hate you. You do not want other bands to be like, “I heard she’s a bitch.” But Kim Gordon is just like, “This is who I am.” She’s not trying to be anybody’s anything. That’s powerful.
Kim Gordon is just effortlessly cool — she can be monotone and she can be really expressive, and both types of presentations are really unique. You can’t listen to Kim Gordon singing without being a little intimidated. The fact that she’s not a trained musician is really cool to me.
I saw her band Body/Head at Ottobar in Baltimore years ago, and I was just glued watching her. She’s a feedback master. Doing a feedback thing onstage has always been taboo to me, because you have to really know what you’re doing. It has to be chaotic and controlled. I remember watching her set and being like, “Her brain works differently than mine, in the best way.” She knows what the fuck she’s doing. Her presence demands respect. She’s something I could only strive to want to be.