Cover of Carrie Brownstein’s Memoir Revealed

Yesterday morning, premiered the cover of Sleater-Kinney guitarist Carrie Brownstein’s highly anticipated memoir, Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl. Spotlit in striking black-and-white against the jet-black background, Brownstein’s triumphant stance and defiant scream into the microphone provide an extremely fitting visual for her explosive career. She is best known for her innovatively unconventional take on the electric guitar, as well as her affinity for hipster-centric sketch comedy on the indie hit Portlandia. But, c’mon. Those are only her most well-known projects. Brownstein’s less mainstream endeavors are just as impressively diverse– she has starred in a number of indie films, collaborated with some of alt-rock’s greatest, and played a notable role in the “riot grrrl” movement of the early 1990’s.


Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl promises to delve not only into these aspects of Brownstein’s career, but into the facets of her upbringing that preceded them. The official description, posted by Riverhead Books, promises an “accessibly raw, honest and heartfelt” memoir that “captures the experience of being a young woman, a born performer and an outsider, and ultimately finding one’s true calling through hard work, courage and the intoxicating power of rock and roll”.

Out on October 27th, 2015 from Riverhead Books.


Double Dare Ya: Bikini Kill’s Impact on Modern Feminism and Punk Rock

Photo courtesy of verbicide magazine

Photo courtesy of Verbicide Magazine

“All girls to the front!” In the middle of a dirty, dimly-lit punk show, the music has crashed to a stop, allowing the band’s spritely singer to command the audience. She paces the stage, microphone in hand. Her black hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and she stares out into the crowd unapologetically in a plaid bra and black mini skirt. The room buzzes with uncertainty, but her demeanor makes it clear that disobeying is not an option. She waves her arms wildly, all at once beckoning and threatening her audience. “I’m not kidding.” As the band explodes into their next song, a row of teenage girls lines the stage, gazing up in wonder at this feminine force of nature. They move in unison, some even throwing flowers onto the tiny stage, in a bubble of safety from the punk boys violently dancing behind them. Thrashing across the platform, she shrieks over the pounding bass. “We are Bikini Kill, and we want revolution… GIRL! STYLE! NOW!”

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