La Roux's Elly Jackson. She's just like Lady Gaga and Ladyhawke, yeah?

One recent mainstream review of La Roux’s latest single ‘Bulletproof’ wondered whether it would be better if lead singer Elly Jackson, along with Lady Gaga and Little Boots, had beards and penises so that we wouldn’t have to suffer endless press features about the popularity of female-led synthpop acts and What It All Means. The exasperated comment drew attention, albeit crudely, to what has become the latest cattle-tag for young women making music. There is an oddly contemporary feel to this media-generated retro fad that fuses 80s music with noughties notions of celebrity in the form of the ubiquitous Lady Gaga, whose self-professed hunger for fame is more reminiscent of reality TV than a tribute to Yazoo. Yet the mechanics of it are very familiar.

The essential component of any media music hype is that artists involved are made to appear “the same but different”. Just as the Spice Girls brand had a Spice Girl for everyone (Posh, Sporty, Baby, Ginger, Scary) today’s teenagers can pick from Ladyhawke (the quiet one), La Roux’s Elly Jackson (the edgy one), Lady Gaga (the mouthy one) and Little Boots (the music-school star your mum would like). The more cerebral coverage argues that grouping these artists under an umbrella celebrates the achievements of women in music, not merely as singers but as recognisable personas. Indeed, few would argue that a group of women with a daring presence and look, however manufactured, is preferable to identikit doll-like replicas of an early-career Britney Spears.

Yet the desire to celebrate women often results in their individual personalities being overlooked. In contrast to their hip, of-the-moment image, both Ladyhawke and Elly Jackson cite the influence of record collections that were social suicide for them as 90s teenagers. Ladyhawke is diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome, an autistic spectrum disorder characterised by social eccentricity and a narrow devotion to hobbies. The resulting studiousness of her music is not matched by fame juggernaut Lady Gaga, with the greatest will in the world. And yet, the three artists are often treated as one, with the added marketing buzz-maker that their names begin with the same letter.

When was the last time you saw three male singers banded together in an article and felt that the only thing they shared was a gender, an instrument and an initial? As cultural commentator Laura Lee Davies writes in an essay on gender and music, you don’t see Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney and that bloke from the Spin Doctors on the cover, arm in arm, with the cover line: “Hey look: three people with penises making hit records!” Similarly, when male artists endure they become a law unto themselves, while women are saddled with whichever genre of music is popular at the time (witness Madonna’s distinct “eras” and Tori Amos, who in her seventeen-year career has been compared with an array of artists she sounds nothing like, from Suzanne Vega to Alanis Morrisette, seemingly by dint of being a female solo singer who writes songs about human interaction).

From this angle, it might seem that promoting waves of female musicians is about as helpful for women’s visibility as joining one of those “10,000 NAMES AGAINST CHILD ABUSE!!!” Facebook groups is for preventing another Baby P case. Few decent people would argue with the premise (child abuse = Bad, Exposure of strong, intelligent women = Good) and those who would are not going to be affected by it. By all means let us celebrate women’s contribution to music in a world where their right to express themselves still cannot be taken for granted. But let’s not let doing that deny them their own identity. The greatest victory for women’s equality will surely be achieved when we discuss their performances as individuals, and without drawing attention to gender.

Sticky Labels – women and musical trends

Riot grrrl

The pro-feminist punk movement riot grrrl emerged from Oregon in the early 90s, led initially by Bikini Kill, Babes in Toyland, Sleater Kinney and later Le Tigre and Gossip. The media quickly identified the provocative grunge and punk-infused PJ Harvey and Hole as mainstream figureheads but both distanced themselves. PJ Harvey stated that she was not conscious of her gender and felt “patronised” by the attention paid to it.

The Kooks

Not the horrible indie-landfill band popular with Hollyoaks viewers, but the routine use of the word “kooky” to describe and group PJ Harvey, Tori Amos and Bjork. The three appeared together on the cover of Q in the summer of 1994, with the strapline “Hips. Lips. Tits. Power”.

Girl power

The Spice Girls “phenomenon” was tenuously linked to everything women did or thought at the time. Other girl bands such as would-be serious R&B contenders All Saints shrugged off comparisons. Their fame has endured individually but for reasons that have little to do with music.

Jazz blands

Easily listening or its hip pseudonym “chill-out” became popular in the early-mid noughties, as record execs realised they could shift twice as many units with the kind of people who buy two CDs a year for dinner parties. Dido, Norah Jones and Katie Melua played along, while Amy Winehouse has zealously alienated the Pippa-and-Jeremy market one bender at a time.

By Maxine Frances Roper