Jessica Hopper’s latest book spotlights her writing on the biggest names in rock to the smallest up and comers from her beloved Chicago.
The book’s revised and expanded edition pops with sharpness and color
The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic
More than a critic, Jessica Hopper is a storyteller. The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic displays this time and time again. She dives into her pieces not only as a journalist, but as a fan, making it clear even in the introduction–her 2002 essay “I Have a Strange Relationship with Music”–that she’s not impartial. Hopper has a voice that demands to be heard. Music is everything to her, and not in the typical way. “It is strange by virtue of what I need from it,” the journalist confesses, “having developed such a desperate belief in the power of music to salve and heal me, I ask big, over and over again.” This piece begins as an analysis of Van Morrison’s T.B. Sheets. Hopper professes her love for the album and then dives into an illustration of the miraculous power of rock music. She shows her devotion to exploring its meaning through her work as a critic: “the exhaustive chronicling of what it is that artists possess that we mere mortals do not.”
This job description is a gutsy and possibly over-the-top statement from her earliest days. But even then Hopper was doing far more than just chronicling. She started conversations about the treatment of women in underground rock scenes through her piece “Emo: Where the Girls Aren’t.” She tackled harrowing tales that weren’t getting enough attention in “The “Stomach-Churning” Sexual Assault Accusations Against R. Kelly.” She even disclosed stories from her teenage years about the journey to her musical awakening through Bikini Kill in her essay “Louder Than Love: My Teenage Grunge Poserdom.”
The latter showcases Hopper’s greatest strength: putting herself in the narrative. Personal anecdotes and opinions saturate the pages, somehow in a way that adds to her credibility. She grew up in the world of punk and rock and she is just as dedicated as ever to uncovering the stories inside it, especially those of women who weren’t always given a voice. “It Was Us Against Those Guys” tells the story of the six women who formed the first Copy and Research Department for Rolling Stone in the 70s, led by Marianne Partridge. “A galvanizing feminist force, Partridge deputized these ambitious young women to turn Rolling Stone into a true journalistic endeavor: a credible music magazine.” Hopper blended their interviews in order to tell their important and often overlooked story. Her resolve to bestow their long overdue credit flowed into an empowering chronicle of determination in the face of sexism.
Hopper also fights to give a voice to the modern woman. “Cat Power is Doing Just Fine” deconstructs the idea that an artist’s well-being should be measured by their ability to entertain and perform. “Kacey Musgraves, Janelle Monae, and the Year of the Woman… Again” applauds the female artists who were able to control the top of the charts in 2019. “A Woman Every Hour” questions why there aren’t more women in country music; it’s certainly not for lack of talent. Radio stations don’t play female country, so record labels don’t sign them, and then festivals can’t book them because there isn’t enough fame attached to their names. “All of this, as both artists and activists attest, has created an environment in which women are locked out of opportunities and subject to systemic discrimination and barriers, and one in which a growing pool of talented young women are pitted against one another,” Hopper reports with an appetite for change.
She has no patience for those who maintain or defend the status quo. This is even more prominent in “The Silver Lining Myth.” After the 2016 presidential election, many people were desperate to find a bright side to the dismal reality. One misguided mindset involved the idea that Trump’s presidency would somehow improve the production of music during that time. “Punk will rise up and ‘be good again,’ pop will get ‘real,’ gain meaning, become explicitly political.” Hopper shut this down in no uncertain terms, calling out the perspective for what it really is: “indifference to the plight of others and to the many possible ways by which Trump’s presidency threatens to ruin lives.” She isn’t afraid of getting political. Hopper follows her sense of justice to every corner of the music industry.
Another topic she tackles the merits of numerous times is selling-out. She shoots down re-releases put out by Fleetwood Mac, Dinosaur Jr., Sonic Youth, and Nirvana because they reek of a thinly veiled cash-grab. She demolishes Sonic Youth, avowing that “buying the whole new Daydream Nation nostalgia package, and the late-’80s/early-’90s nostalgia-fest in general, feels pathetic–as if the only way to sandbag against encroaching obsolescence is with our wallets.” She similarly shuts down the twentieth-anniversary box set of Nevermind, asking ““Does anyone imagine that kids deafened by two decades of increasingly shitty mastering and overcompression will even be able to hear the difference…”? Hopper’s realness and wit combine to form engaging reads that attempt to hold artists accountable to their fans. Her evocative vocabulary and industry insight allow her to unmask those she deems to be aging frauds.
She isn’t afraid to attack larger institutions either. “Punk Is Dead! Long Live Punk!” gives an account of her summer following the Vans Warped tour in 2004. From its secretive set-times to its menacingly methodical layout, the Warped tour was always meant to squeeze every penny it could from the expendable income of its teenage attendees. Hopper wasted no time breaking down the corporate practices poorly hidden under the guise of a purely punk festival. And she made sure to put a spotlight on the few bands with a true rock-and-roll essence, namely Juliette & the Licks and Mean Reds, while she was at it. Hopper is always on a mission to find music that moves her.
As a result she was quite adamant about boycotting Lollapalooza despite it taking place in her hometown, publishing a retort titled “Not Lollapalooza.” The whimsical festival grounds may elicit feelings of excitement and community at first, “but the idea that mega-festivals somehow create ad hoc communities out of their mega-crowds–an idea likely owed to Woodstock–is ridiculous. The only thing everybody at Lollapalooza has in common is the willingness to be painfully gouged for a ticket.” Not at all worth it when Chicago has so much else to offer. Hopper recalled some of the most moving shows by no-name artists that she had attended. Rollin Hunt, Screaming Females, and Abe Vigoda had given her far more meaningful experiences than a festival full of drunk teens ever would. The underground scene breeds connection, “in the basement, you can feel the band’s humanity as well as your own.”
Reading Hopper’s compilation in succession certainly gave way to larger themes and ideas. Her articles work together to put rock music on display: its culture, contributors, and concerns. But despite this, there are certainly weaknesses in the book’s structure. Each individual piece comes across as thought out and captivating, but they fit together like a puzzle that was jammed into place. The book is broken up into nine different sections, each with four to eight articles that span numerous lengths, publishers, and decades. The themes of each section range from places to feelings to juxtaposing ideologies. Certainly more creative than laying out her articles chronologically but not all of the fifty-six articles feel quite in the right place.
The first section, Chicago, left me hopeful. The deep love and understanding that Hopper has of her city is engaging and leads to passionate writing. But so much of her writing centers around Chicago it begs the question of why those articles were chosen to represent the city and others were swept into broader categories like Strictly Business or Personal/Political. A similar argument could be made for the final section of the book, She Said, given that a large portion of her writing also focuses on empowering female artists.
That being said, The First Collection of Criticism by a Living Female Rock Critic is overall an engrossing and informative read. It aptly achieves its goal of highlighting the best so far of Jessica Hopper. Her journalism goes above and beyond, covering superstars to up-and-comers and treating them all with the same level of care and respect. Whether she’s writing Sufjan Stevens a letter on his misconceptions of the state of Illinois or analyzing a photograph of Lady Gaga in the airport, she can make a compelling story out of anything. The structure of the book can be overlooked. Besides, with a career as long and fruitful as she’s had, Hopper can’t be blamed for having too much work to organize neatly and nicely. She’s far too busy tackling the patriarchy and moshing in Chicago basements to worry about playing by the rules.