Introducing the Female Rock Journalist…
Welcome to my newsletter, a music memoir about working for the British rock press during the 1990s. As a woman.
Me, in the 1990s…Why ‘Female Rock Journalist’?
I spent the first ten years of my career working as a rock journalist, and as a woman, that really meant something in the 1990s.
Initially I played around with fancy schmancy newsletter names, and things that seemed tongue-in-cheek but actually ended up sounding inappropriate, like The Girl With The Bands. But in the end I took my inspiration from Curtis Sittenfeld’s new novel, the brilliantly titled Romantic Comedy because I loved the simplicity and humour of such a direct hit. And at least this way everyone will know exactly what I’m writing about. Sadly, even now there’s still too much structural sexism within the music industry to start cracking jokes. And the risk of misinterpretation is simply too great.
So, I’m Liz Evans, a British writer, author and researcher, currently based in lutruwita/Tasmania, where I am working on my second novel. I’ve been a writer and editor for 37 years, and have contributed interviews, reviews and lead features for The Guardian, i-D, New Statesman, Elle UK, Deadline, Ikon, Island Literary Journal, Dumbo Feather, Lunch Lady, TasWeekend, Womankind and The Conversation among others. I hold a PhD in Creative Writing from the University of Tasmania, where I have taught creative writing to undergraduates, among other subjects. After a year working as an Associate Lecturer, I am now an Adjunct Researcher within the University’s department of English and Writing.
I started working as a music journalist in 1988, when I reviewed my friend Ben Harding’s band, the Senseless Things and sent it off to UK music paper, Sounds. Knowing what I do now about the world of magazines and newspapers, it’s hard to believe this, but I fully expected that review to be published. Of course, it wasn’t. Subsequently, propelled by my own personal blend of ignorance, determination and bloody-mindedness, I launched myself into a meeting with the lovely Chris Welch of Metal Hammer magazine, which kickstarted my decade in rock journalism and eventually led to the publication of two books on women and rock culture.
After about 14 months with Metal Hammer, I spent a year as a staff writer at RAW magazine and then switched to Kerrang! I also contributed to Melody Maker, NME, Vox and Select. I covered Nirvana from 1989 onwards, was the first journalist to write about Alice in Chains in the UK, and at one point I was the only reporter in the UK who both Courtney Love and Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder would talk to. I was also one of the first people to interview Dave Grohl with the Foo Fighters, after Kurt Cobain’s tragic death and Nirvana’s demise. I toured, interviewed, partied, and even snowboarded with all of my favourite (surviving) rock stars, including Sonic Youth, Soundgarden, L7, Babes in Toyland, Ministry, Faith No More, and many many many others. I kept a backpack permanently ready for trips to the US, in case of sudden departures, I spent every weekday night at gigs, aftershows, launch parties, clubs and hotel bars, and at weekends either headed over to close music industry friends in north west London or lazed around, recovering, in my Hornsey flat with my music journalist boyfriend. It was a dream life. But there was a downside, some of which you can read about in my first Back Catalogue post.
Do you still write about music?
No, at least not exclusively. After ten years of talking to musicians, I’d honestly had enough. I loved my job, but intellectually and creatively, after a decade it ceased to satisfy me. By the end of the 1990s, there were only about six bands I still wanted to write about. I’d lost all enthusiasm for reviewing gigs in tiny regional venues, and I couldn’t face listening to any more demo tapes or debut albums. Much as I loved the glamour and the parties, London’s relatively small, music industry circuit felt socially and culturally restricted and the limits of the work were not enough to sustain me. I knew this was unfair on all the young up-and-coming bands who were trying so hard to make an impression on the industry. They deserved to be met with fresh ears, by people who were just as excited as they were about the music and the lifestyle. At the age of 33, that was no longer me.
So, what did you do after the 1990s?
I didn’t want to work my way up the corporate publishing ladder because as a staff writer I’d suffered a lot of boring meetings with business people who had no idea whatsoever about music. For a while I considered TV research, but a cameraman put me off, so I followed up my lifelong interest in Jungian theory and trained as a psychodynamic psychotherapist, taking in an MA in Jungian Studies along the way. In some ways, psychotherapy wasn’t so different to journalism - not the way I’d approached it, anyway. Both jobs involved talking to creative, troubled people, earning trust, and listening carefully, with sensitivity and respect.
As for the partying, I took up with a bunch of photographers in east London, just before the bankers and art collectors moved in…
And what about your writing?
I kept writing. I don’t think I could ever stop writing. But I wrote about different things, including academic papers. Journalistically, I branched out into psychology, parenting, the arts, health, environmental issues, and local lifestyle reporting, and eventually themes relating to my PhD research. I’ve also had spells as a sub-editor, which was dull but well-paid, and provided me with the very best form of technical training.
That said, I interviewed Courtney Barnett in 2018, and covered one of Tasmania’s amazing, eclectic music and arts festivals, Mona Foma, in 2017. You’ll be able to find these articles in my Back Catalogue once I’ve filed them.
Why are you focusing on your past life as a rock journalist now?
Good question! It’s taken me a really long time to realise how much I achieved during those years, and to understand the significance of being the only woman in such a male-dominated world. Until recently, and amidst conversations that emerged with #Me Too, women like me accepted that bullying and sexual harassment were part and parcel of our jobs. For years, I carried pain and anger about the sexual harassment, gender-based workplace bullying, and sexual discrimination that I endured as a music journalist, and the lack of support and respect I received from my male bosses and colleagues did not help. I sincerely hope that none of this would be tolerated now.
Personally, I am grateful for women of my generation like Sam Baker and Tracey Thorn whose combined work has paved the way for me to feel able to explore my story. Sam has offered me personal encouragement, which has been pivotal. Also, Viv Albertine’s memoirs have played an important role in my process. Several other women have spurred me on with their accounts, including my friend, Miki Berenyi, for whose book I was a Beta reader.
Ultimately, I’ve had to make my way here slowly, for reasons which I will be unpacking through some of my posts, but it seems like this is the right time for me to start sharing my experiences.
Do I have to pay for a subscription?
For now, my posts are so irregular that I don’t feel it’s fair to charge anyone, but if that changes, I will let you know.
I’ve worked hard as a writer throughout my life and have rarely been paid accordingly. The rates of pay for music journalism did not increase once, no matter who I wrote for, throughout the ten years I spent in that industry (although Elle magazine paid well!). I assume this is because the publishers relied on the fact that it was a job a lot of people wanted to do. Sure, there were incredible perks. Music, gigs, drinks, nightclubs, international travel - it was all free. But I still had rent to pay.
I’ve never been a blogger. I’m a writer, and there’s a difference. Apart from this newsletter, all of my work has always been pitched and/or commissioned and always edited by at least one or two others for print publication, and I believe that means something in terms of my writing. I consider myself a senior practitioner in my field, especially now that I’m older, have a few letters after my name and have held university teaching positions. I invest time in my writing, I like to polish and edit to a high standard, and I don’t think I should be expected to work for free, although for now, it’s by choice on this platform. I like Substack because the developers seem to agree with me!
Thank you so much for reading my introduction. Please feel free to share my newsletter with your friends, post your comments, feedback and questions, and if there’s anything you’d like to know about 1990s rock or being a music journalist, or struggling to make your mark in a male-dominated environment, sing out.
Cheers! Liz
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