Abstract
This article outlines various intersections of noise and femininity, through which noise has been feminised and the feminine has been produced as noisy. Feminised musical genres, such as mainstream pop, have been dismissed as excessive, banal and extraneous noise. Noise has also been feminised by a number of recent historiographical and curatorial projects that have sought to amplify the creative work of women in experimental and electronic music. Using a cybernetic understanding of noise as an explanatory metaphor, I suggest that these projects threaten the integrity of a patrilineal ‘dotted line’ that characterises histories of musical noise and sonic experimentalism. This cybernetic metaphor is also applied to Pauline Oliveros’ Willowbrook generations and reflections (1976) and the performances of noise artist Phantom Chips, so as to identify the production of a feminised noise in and through music. I suggest that these curatorial projects and musical practices raise important questions as to if, when and how feminised noise becomes feminist noise.
Acknowledgements
I would like to offer my thanks to Annie Goh, Frances Morgan, the anonymous reviewers and editors of this special edition for their thoughtful and constructive feedback on this article.
Disclosure Statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
ORCID
Marie Thompson http://orcid.org/0000-0002-2660-9864
Notes
[1] It is difficult to provide a summary of the gendered dynamics of noise music in that it consists of disparate and fragmented ‘micro-scenes’ that are ideologically and aesthetically varied. Though some of these scenes are male-dominated, others are or are becoming more balanced in terms of gendered participation, as suggested by a number of participants in Boyle’s documentary. A more detailed consideration of the gender politics of noise music is beyond the scope of this article.
[2] In 2012 Her Noise hosted an artist talk with Oliveros and performance of some of her works. She also features on the Her Noise map.