Under My Thumb: Songs That Hate Women and the Women That Love Them

by Rhian E. Jones (Editor), Eli Davies (Editor)

Discussions and analyses of music – whether on TV, in books or in the music press – have always been full of the stories of men. When female fans appear in these stories it is often through the eyes and from the perspectives of men – as muses, groupies or fangirls – meaning that women’s own experiences, ideas and arguments about the music they love are marginalised or glossed over. Women in music are frequently fetishised and objectified both in song lyrics and in real life, viewed purely in relation to men and through their impact on the male ego. But this hasn’t stopped generations of women from loving, being moved by and critically appreciating music – however that music may feel about them.

Under My Thumb: The Songs that Hate Women and the Women Who Love Them is a study of misogyny in music through the eyes of women. It will bring together stories from music writers and fans about artists or songs they love despite their questionable or troubling gender politics, as well as looking at how these issues intersect with race, class and sexuality.

The collection explores the joys of loving music and the tensions, contradictions and complexities it can involve. It is intended to be as much celebration as critique - a kind of feminist guilty pleasures.

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Feminism, Essays, Gender, Journalism

288 pages, Paperback

First published October 17, 2017

About the author

Red bluestocking. Writes fiction; writes, edits and broadcasts on history, politics and pop culture. Welsh in London.

Reviews

[Scarlet Cameo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Before read it: This one will hurt..I know...I can even guess some of the bands that will appear

After: Why the world destroy everything I love!!! But the work behind this book is freaking amazing. Now, if you neef be, I'll be crying at my bed like a baby for the next week.

A digital copy of this book was peovided by NetGalley

[Heather ~*dread mushrooms*~ · Rating 3 out of 5]

[...] the Young Girl does not get to enjoy her youth, because others are always ready to enjoy it for her, or mourn its loss later on her behalf. The Young Girl is a repository of projection. Whoever speaks of the Young Girl usually isn't one. Whenever the Young Girl does speak, she is ignored.

This was a pretty interesting collection of essays on how music of different genres portray women. Some were far and away better than others. I requested this because I know of the controversy relating to the titular song: the Rolling Stones' "Under My Thumb." Also, I like a lot of classic rock and 80s hair bands, and I figured the book would talk about some of that music.

I'm familiar with most of the bands and artists discussed here. A few dealt with those I know by name and reputation but don't listen to the music of: Bob Dylan, Tupac, Eminem. Then there were the essays that just didn't appeal to me because I'm not at all knowledgable about the music or artists: the essay on extreme metal, for example, or the one on the band the Divine Comedy, which I've never heard of. Oh, and I didn't read the Kanye essay.

The Guns n' Roses essay mentioned a few things that I would REALLY rather not know about them, since I love the band so much. A lot of these artists seem to outright dismiss their role in misogyny when confronted about it in interviews. They say it's what was happening around them, or that it's not really all that deep, or, in the words of Mick Jagger: "I had so many girlfriends at that point. None of them seemed to care they weren't pleasing me very much. I was obviously in with the wrong group."

Excuse me while I cry a little tear for poor Mick Jagger.

I think it's incredibly dumb to basically ignore the misogynistic scenarios they present. Like, they wrote this and put it out in the world and are now having an interview about it. But they have no desire to discuss their work further and dissect it's meaning and impact? Um... okay. That's pretty lame.

(Although he wasn't discussed in this book, I feel it's appropriate to bring up Gene Simmons. I just learned of an interview he gave on NPR in 2002 and it's really something. He seems to have a chip on his shoulder about intelligence and money and yeah, he doesn't seem to value women for anything besides what's between their legs. I already disliked him from when he had a reality show, but this basically confirmed my dislike.)

This book places song lyrics in interesting contexts, dissecting their subtext and often revealing how chilling the misogyny in seemingly innocent songs can be. I enjoyed reading about artists I know and others that were little-known to me (the essay that opened with a confused child experiencing Rod Stewart music is pretty funny). As far as feminism itself goes, however, I didn't really learn anything new.

Just because something exists in art, does not mean it is acceptable in reality.

3.5 stars

I received an ARC from the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Ophelia Sings · Rating 3 out of 5]

There's not a lot that's new in this collection of essays, which, in the main, follow a theme of women (rightly) decrying misogyny in music while saying 'I love it so I'm going to carry on listening anyway'. To be fair, there is some genuinely insightful, sparky writing here - the contributions on murder ballads and Pulp were both surprising and rewarding, especially given as I'm a fan of both and can clearly see how they may be problematic. But it's disappointing that all but one contributor misses one vital fact: popular music is, was, and always will be about sex, and while men are the primary purveyors of it - whether on a stage or in the boardroom - the music women listen to will always be about sex via the male gaze. If, as women, we want to hear something different - and for our daughters to do so, too - we need to get out there and make music ourselves; not to merely consume, but to create.

Unfortunately, and however well intentioned, this book does little to inspire such action; rather, it simply repeats and rehashes so much of what's been said a thousand times already (is Taylor Swift REALLY a feminist? Oh, and rap can be sexist. No. Way.). A wasted opportunity, Under My Thumb is less a rallying cry and more a resigned shrug.

My thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Oriana]

Here is an incredible review of this book by the great Jessica Hopper and hoo boy I can't wait to pick this up.

[zoe · Rating 2 out of 5]

i started this book in 2017 whilst reading anatomy of a song (which i ultimately found quite fascinating). while i finished anatomy of a song soon after starting it, i lost steam with under my thumb. i picked it back up this nov. and finally finished it in jan. and i have a few thoughts...

i wouldn't really say that i liked this book. my biggest gripe with the book is that i found it repetitive. many of the essays had the same format: introduce a potentially problematic artist/group/genre/song that the author loves for some sentimental reason, discuss the ways in which said artist/group/genre/song is and has been problematic, end by being like "but i still love them <3" or, in rarer cases, "and that's why i no longer interact with this particular art form." since the essays had such similar formats and many of the authors came from such similar background (white, cisgender, European), it honestly dragged. i would've loved to see a greater diversity of writers included in the book in terms of gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, etc. than was featured—it definitely would've made for a more interesting and important read. some of the chapters felt soooo... white woman :/// especially the chapter on kanye. yikes. not a fan.

[Miriam Smith (A Mother’s Musings)]

Won in the Goodreads Giveaways

[Tumi Árnason · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ritgerðirnar eru ofboðslega misjafnar að gæðum. Nokkrar frábærar, margar fínar og nokkrar sem voru svo illa skrifaðar að ég skil ekki hvernig þær komust framhjá ritstjórninni. Í heildina bara nokkuð skemmtilegur lestur!

[ashwini · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm glad this book was written, but the essays are very one-note. That isn't the fault of the authors though--it's because, truly, what else can be said about misogynistic music besides "I do my best to compartmentalize," and "I try really hard to support non-misogynistic music too?" The fact remains that misogynistic music is rooted in a patriarchal hatred of women and there is just no way around that. I personally listen to misogynistic music too at times, and my "rationalizations" for it would be very similar to the authors listed here. There's nothing more to say. I wish misogynistic music was not profitable, but it is, and it's largely inescapable. I will not however be "the Cool Girl" and pretend like violent and demeaning lyrics don't bother me just to show how chill I am. None of the authors advocate doing that either, although some of them admit to adopting that persona in younger years. I do appreciate the wide ranges of pop music genres the book covers. I'd be interested to hear about misogyny in classical and experimental music too--obviously these genres don't usually have lyrics (which were the major example of misogyny in most essays, in addition to the conduct of the musicians themselves), but with the recent scandals uncovering serious abuse among many prominent male musicians, composers, conductors, and choreographers, it seems timely.

[Nostalgia Reader]

I feel terrible dnf'ing this, but the essays just aren't driving me to feel like this is a very important issue.

Every essay seemed to come down to the basic point (which is one I very much agree with): Recognize and learn about the issues with a song or a band and then decide if you can bypass those and still enjoy the music, or will boycott the band or song because of the issues. There are songs that I love for the extremely catchy music proper, but always feel awkward around the lyrics... but the instrumentals themselves speak to me too much for me to completely boycott the song due to the words. A song can captivate you from the opening notes, and sometimes you're already too much in love with the song by the time the lyrics start manifesting themselves.

While there are certainly an abundance of issues with misogynistic and women-hating songs and bands, and it IS something that warrants a closer look, perhaps it would be provide a more cohesive argument as a regular non-fiction book than a collection of essays.

[Mollie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I thoroughly enjoyed 80% of this book. It was thought provoking and relatable, and, as a woman and a music fan, utterly fascinating. The remaining 20% was either a bit over complicated or about a musical genre or artist I had no interest in.

I'm very glad I stumbled across this in Beerwolf, and people should definitely check it out.

[John Plowright · Rating 5 out of 5]

John Lennon, by his own admission, was a jealous guy. Hence the song of that name on the ‘Imagine’ album. That same sentiment had been expressed by him in more extreme form on The Beatles’ ‘Rubber Soul’ album, in the song ‘Run For Your Life’, which includes the lyrics “Well, I’d rather see you dead little girl/Than to be with another man” – a line borrowed from the Elvis number ‘Baby Let’s Play House’, written by Arthur Gunter. Indeed, you don’t have to go far to find that women are treated very badly in popular music. Nor is this, sadly, something only to be found in the past.

Even today much music making and music criticism is male-dominated and tends either to ignore women or to treat them purely as male appendages, and what is true of the mainstream is equally true of most branches of the music scene.

Inspired by the response, on social media and elsewhere, to Eli Davies’s ‘Retrospective Sexism: How Women Are Written Out of British Indie Music History’, which in turn was partly inspired by Emma Jackson’s 2005 ‘Huffington Post’ piece ‘Indie Music’s Women Problem and Retrospective Sexism’, Davies and her co-editor, Rhian E. Jones, have put together ‘Under My Thumb’ to examine the subordination, exploitation or exclusion of women in song and the paradox that many of these songs are still beloved by many women.

In addition to the introduction there are twenty-nine essays by women, including separate pieces by the two co-editors, on everything from doo-wop to hip-hop, taking in the likes of Phil Spector, Dylan, Jagger, Rod Stewart, Van Halen, Elvis Costello, Tupac, Eminem, Jarvis Cocker, Kanye West and Taylor Swift, amongst others, along the way.

Of course it’s in the nature of a book like this that one will quite readily think of many other artists or songs which merit inclusion, such as Neil Young (‘A Man Needs a Maid’); The Police (‘Every Breath You Take’); The Bloodhound Gang (‘The Bad Touch’); Pitbull (‘Timber’); David Guetta (‘Sexy B***h) and so on almost ad infinitum, which rather proves the point about the ubiquity of misogyny in music.

In short, this book performs an important function in drawing attention to what we all, women and men alike, can all too unthinkingly absorb and thereby, to a degree, legitimise. It is thought provoking and informative without appearing in the least didactic.

[Daniel · Rating 2 out of 5]

If I had read this 15 years ago or seen these articles in a mix of other content on a website I probably would've really dug it all, but back-to-back it becomes monosyllabic and frankly a little shallow. These are essays in the journalistic opinion piece mode which leaves them being very readable but not the hard-hitting theory that I'm looking for in books like this these days. Despite its breadth of genre - which is appreciated - pretty much every essay digs into an an artist, goes through the list of their feminist transgressions, then talks about why they might still be valuable anyways and shrugs their shoulders. The best pieces, near the back of the book, talk more generally about gender and its relationship to pop music, but most of it is 30 different ways to say "I shouldn't like this, but I do!"

[Steven Pilling · Rating 4 out of 5]

Probably 4.5 stars really .

This is interesting and challenging to this reader and i think to many others.

The idea is clever women take songs or artists that they as feminists or just intelligent women (if you don't wish to be identified as a feminist) should like but do and they explain why they do .

The challenging part is the artists selected are not totally obvious for every Rod Stewart there is a Pulp and as a pulp fan i never thought about how say I spy could be considered by a woman . The essays will engage and whilst you may not always agree you will enjoy the argument and may reconsider at a later date.

Very Highly recomended

[Corinna Fabre · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was really excited to read this book but, ultimately, it seemed to fail short of it's promise. Most essays could be described, at best, as meandering, and the few that stood out as well thought through were so far and few between that, by the time I reached them, I was too exhausted from slogging through the rest to really enjoy it.

Ultimately, it felt like this book was a really solid first draft but needed a heavier editing hand and some additional editorial direction (for example, eliminating two of the three back-to-back essays on the same bands) to really bring it up to it's full potential.

[Megan Schaller · Rating 3 out of 5]

why do we give a free pass to our favorite asshole musicians? i’ve been trying - and failing - to reconcile my hero worship of lou reed, iggy pop, david bowie, et al. with my feminism since i was in high school. none of these essays were particularly illuminating - and some were marred by frequent grammatical and spelling errors - but i’m grateful that something was formally published on this subject. reading this book didn’t absolve me of guilt, but it did make me feel less alone.

[Oleva Berard · Rating 2 out of 5]

Wanted so much more from this book than what I got

[Joel]

In this book, 29 different women write about the music they love in spite of its un-feminist baggage. Most of the essays collected here focus on beloved songs with misogynistic lyrical content (e.g. Kill You by Eminem, the titular Rolling Stones track), with some broader musings on male-dominated musical subcultures (extreme metal, mid-noughties UK indie) and iffy songwriting tropes (murder ballads and their fascination with brutalised female bodies, country songs in which a no-good man implores a woman to set him straight) sprinkled in for variety.

Parts of Under My Thumb read like a master's thesis, but the book is at its best when the contributor is writing about her own life, her own listening experience, and the complicated personal connection she feels to the song or artist in question. My favourite segments were:

- The AC/DC chapter, in which Fiona Sturges wonders whether she made a mistake by introducing her preteen daughter to her favourite band ("So far I've kept her away from Go Down, Big Balls and Let Me Put My Love in You, none of which require explanation, but it's only a matter of time before she finds them for herself. What the hell have I done?")

- Eli Davies's memories of falling in love with the music of Elvis Costello ("Ferocity was what I was after. I did not have a lot of love for the world around me, so the sound appealed to me; I registered his spite - his hate, his fury, I think I may even have picked up on the maleness of it all, but I wasn't interested in thinking about who this was for and where I, as a girl, fit into it all.")

- Amanda Barokh explaining how Big Pimpin' by Jay-Z helped her to feel proud of her Arabic heritage ("It made Arabic culture feel less marginalised. Being brown no longer felt isolating. In fact, it felt like a USP.")

- The memoir of Rachel Trezise, a Guns N' Roses fan who grew up on a council estate in the South Wales Valleys ("That's what felt glamorous to me at thirteen: hot weather, outdoor swimming pools, sixty-foot palm trees and not the excessive lifestyle that the band had become famous for glamourising. Because I lived in one of the poorest areas in the UK, and even at thirteen there was nothing necessarily surprising about sex and drugs.")

If this is sounding like the book for you, be warned: the more academic portions of Under My Thumb may feel like a bit of a slog. Many good points are made, but I'm not certain I understood all of them; on several occasions, I found myself reading and re-reading the same sentence over and over again in an effort to decode what was being said.

Still, the good thing about this book is that there's something here for everyone. Perhaps you need material for your Popular Music dissertation, or maybe you just want to read a female fan's perspective on your favourite problematic rock stars; either way, you'll find it here. Whether you listen to industrial metal, gangsta rap, Britpop or doo-wop, Under My Thumb will ruin it for you prompt you to think more critically about your music and why you enjoy it.

Case in point: as I was reading through this book, I made myself a playlist of the songs mentioned in each chapter. Thanks to Jasmine Hazel Shadrack's essay on extreme metal (From Enslavement to Obliteration: Extreme Metal's Problem with Women), this playlist ended up including a song called Cum Covered Stabwounds by a band called Prostitute Disfigurement. You can understand my squeamishness, my reluctance to add this band to my library.

But then I looked at some of the songs I had already added to my playlist without batting an eye. It's So Easy, which features the line "turn around bitch, I got a use for you". Where the Wild Roses Grow, the Nick Cave / Kylie Minogue duet that ends with him bashing her head in with a rock. Be My Baby, co-written and produced by actual woman murderer Phil Spector (who, fun fact, died of COVID-19 while I was midway through this book).

Yes, Prostitute Disfigurement are going out of their way to be horrible and disturbing and provocative, and Cum Covered Stabwounds is a particularly extreme example of male violence in music. But where exactly is the line? How blatant does that anti-woman violence have to be before I hesitate to press play?

[Bunny · Rating 4 out of 5]

What happens when you love a form of music that doesn't love you back?

Your fave is problematic.

Your favorite movie. Your favorite TV show. Your favorite author. Your favorite musician. Your fave is problematic. You should definitely stop liking them.

This is a common refrain on the internet. This 'problematic fave' meme has gotten to the point where it's more a joke than anything, something someone rolls their eyes at and keeps moving. Because our faves are our faves, problematic or not. And we're not interested in someone who isn't a die hard fan telling us why our beloved show, our beloved book, the song we listened to on repeat during our misspent youth, makes us bad people with no sense of the realities of this world.

And this is a problem. Because these things need to be talked about. We, the fans of Joss Whedon, the fans of Johnny Depp, the fans of Eminem, the fans of The Rolling Stones and Kanye West and yes, Taylor Swift. We need to be aware that our faves need to be held accountable for their actions, for their words, for their inaction.

This book is not about how your faves are problematic and you should hate them. This collection of essays, written by a diverse and talented group of women, is about how your faves are problematic and it is okay that you still love them.

That is the most important take away from this wonderful collection of essays on the intense problem in this variety of musical genres with the degrading and devaluing of women. It would have been very easy to have this book focus on the obvious genres. Hip hop, classic rock. But we also have classic country, emo, heavy metal, goth industrial*. These essays are in chronological order based on when the music was released, meaning the first chapter references Dion and the Belmonts (didn't see that coming, did you?).

This is exactly what is needed in any discussion of problematic faves. This isn't a bunch of old people screaming about the "kids today and their music." These are Guns n Roses fans talking about 'You're Crazy'. These are Tupac fans talking about "Wonda Why They Call U Bitch". These are the voices needed in any talks of misogyny and the problems with normalizing it in any form of art. The problem with letting the harsh words go in one ear and out the other, the problem with being okay with this treatment because "those women" being talked about are bitches, are sluts, you're not like them, it's okay because it's not about you.

These authors aren't telling you to hate these artists. They're telling you they love them, too, but that these problems need to be addressed. Love the artist, but expect better from them, and future artists in the genres we love.

Received via Netgalley in exchange for a fair and unbiased review

* Didn't even know this was a thing. Learned so much from this book.

[Elsie Heather · Rating 3 out of 5]

the only good quote in this book is on page 255: "I couldn't really take anyone seriously who hadn't tried to kill themselves at least once. Clearly, they hadn't thought this life business through" after a paragraph about Pete Wentz and My Chem.

and i think the only essay i felt i really related to at all was larissa wodtke's essay: it felt like she actually looked past the "here's yet another misogynistic lyric by another man" and looked further into not ever really thinking about your gender when you're listening to music. it's certainly not really something i stop to consider when i put on music. when i put on music to listen to, it's because i like the music and don't really consider the lyrics of said music. sure, i keep up with the artists i listen to online and will stop listening if they do or say something i vehemently disagree with but i don't stop 24/7 to consider what the actual lyrics of songs i listen to mean because I'd just get depressed.

This book just felt super repetitive and boring. I think if you'd just written a list of all the artists, it would've been more interesting!

[B · Rating 3 out of 5]

Whilst the premise of this book is indeed intriguing and you'll find a ton of problematic information about various artists, various essays, in my opinion, make no real attempt to reflect on these issues and instead adopt an apologetic position that does not target the overarching patriarchal issues (to name just one) of the music industry.
However, there are some mind-provoking and trenchant contributions that'll stick with me and have induced further contemplation into my own listening habits and mechanisms of justification/rationalization that happen internally, whenever I listen to artists I (morally) shouldn't.

Recommended articles: Introduction, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love 'Big Pimpin', Breaking Binary Codes: On Being a Female Fan Who Prefers Music Produced by Men

[Angela · Rating 3 out of 5]

While I think the premise was done correctly, the essays were a bit mixed. While there were several that laid out a specific artist, why they loved them, and why they were problematic, many other included covered overarching styles of music, or music and feminism as an overall theme, but failed to reach out and grab this readers attention.

A variety of genres and bands were covered, and I think most female music fans would be able to relate to at least one subject. The point that there is no one part of music that is not touched in some way by misogyny and exclusion is also neatly laid out.

Worth the read, but not as memorable as I had hoped.

[Johanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

Feels strange to review this book given that I have a chapter in it!

I love music, lyrics and feminism, so this is definitely an interesting book for me. I especially enjoyed the chapters on Big Pimpin' and Taylor Swift, and found there was interesting new perspectives on quite a few lyrics.

Non-ficiton isn't my favourite thing to read, and I did struggle with some of the chapters about bands I didn't know, but this is still worth a read if you're a music fan. I hope that some men will read this book as I think they may well learn more from it than women will.

[James McConnon · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very interesting. Bit biased as know one of the writers, and her chapter on being a Hip Hop DJ was great. Also loved the chapters on the Stones, Country and Murder ballads. A couple of the others were a bit pretentious, but there was lots of good insight in there. It would have been nice to have bit of balance in there occasionally (ie: How do women write about the same subjects, how much is misogyny and how much is just being pissed off with your ex etc.)

But overall, very interesting read.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Gave a cursory look to most of these but focused on the essays on Weezer's Pinkerton, the Rolling Stones and Taylor Swift. There seemed a reliable list of common sources, especially 'Gender Trouble', as well as Simon Reynolds' 'Sex Revolts', that kept coming up.

There were interesting pieces but nothing here rose above the level of an above average blog post. Which is a fine standard to meet but not one to brag about. I think the essay format here ultimately left it a little light, even if that kept it very readable.

[Hayley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whilst tidying up my Goodreads TBR I was reminded of this book and decided to finally read it.
I found the essays and the breadth of music covered really interesting.There was a personal element of a lot of the essays that added depth to the 'art vs the artist' discussion.
It's a shame this book hasn't been more widely read as it much more successfully manages to do what 'Monsters' completely failed to do in my opinion (and the amount of likes on my review of 'Monsters' shows various others agree).

[Alycia · Rating 2 out of 5]

The concept of this book was good but it didn't really deliver much more than very drawn out excuses. And the editing was terrible. From the actress "Denise Roberts" and writer "Jia Lolentino" to saying Weezer put out six albums from 1996 to 2000 when any fan would know that's not only not true, but kind of impossible. There were so many mistakes, it was kind of hard to take the essays very seriously.

[Pointsandwheels · Rating 3 out of 5]

Like many essay anthologies, some of these are good, and some are indifferent. Also, if you have opinions about the music each essay discusses, that will flavor your affection for this book. But, overall, it's a well-done book, and worth reading, at least the chapters you care about. (I loved the one on murder ballads.)

[Giannis · Rating 2 out of 5]

Eνδιαφέρουσες οπτικές σχετικά με θέματα μισογυνισμού και σεξισμού στην μουσική αλλά διαφώνησα με ορισμένες από τις εκθέσεις και με κάποιες ιδέες. Τελικά, οδήγησε σε επαναλήψεις και έγινε κουραστικό προς το τέλος, δεν ανανεωνόταν η οπτική. Θα μπορούσε να είναι πολύ περισσότερο πλήρες συμπεριλαμβάνοντας και άλλες πολιτισμικές ομάδες.

[Christina Hunter · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm surprised by how much I enjoyed this essay collection! I got a chance to read viewpoints much different to and scarily similar to my own. Listening to women talk about enjoying the things that hate them will always resonate with me. The length of the essays made it perfect to read during breaks, too!

[Karen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Okay. I bought it for the references to Guns N'Roses.

And found murder ballads, Pulp, the Divine Comedy and others I like in here too (but mostly haven't listened to in a while).

The essays tend to be better at analysing the content of the song than answering the question about is it okay to like them? I enjoyed myself though.