Photo by Elizabeth Fox.

Lost Grrrl Found

I didn’t look too closely at the flyer before going to Piano’s alone on a Friday night. I thought I was going to another show, billed with bands that love riot grrrl. I too love riot grrrl, and so I found myself in a well-curated back room of Piano’s, complete with a custom playlist and a crowd donning short haircuts and high-rise jeans. People were wearing t-shirts under winter coats and merch for the headlining band, Zipper Lips. I wondered why some performers had small mics taped to the sides of their faces—maybe the band had some dance elements or just liked the early 2000s. But it just didn’t feel like a regular show. I tried to decode through the event’s Instagram page, but I was only met with more confusion, as the posts promoted both Zipper Lips and Lost Grrrl Found. Was it an artist collective with an army of one? Or maybe a showcase of contemporary riot grrrl bands? I decided to let them tell me.

I stood in the back and watched opener Monica Bang’s false start. I could see the energy the lead vocalist gave to the turned-off mic. In the meantime, they tried to work the crowd until it was time to start again. The songs were additions to the established references of the night—four-chord punk, riot grrrl, and political fuck-you-ness. It was clear to me that the lead had a theater background, as the whole show was a performance of how edgy, dirty, and eccentric she was. Between songs, the vocalist would ask the crowd questions, and instruct them to jump or say “Trans Lives Matter.” These interludes served as the first lines of the next song, often slipping in the song’s title as the drummer began the beat. Two-thirds of the way in, the vocalist took her shirt off and sang a song about daddy issues in a bikini top. She began dancing with the guitarist and singing in Spanish. She seemed enveloped in her performance. It was hard to say where her true personality ended and her stage character began, but it was clear that she fed off of the eyes of the crowd. So, it came as no surprise to me that when introducing her next song, she proclaimed that she received a theater degree. The song was quieter than what came before, followed by pop-punk anthems sung from behind sunglasses. The next song, preluded by tensed words about somebody who wouldn’t get out of their “fucking phone,” mirrored the others. The songs felt obvious and relied heavily on theme—but that theme was enjoyable, fun, and theatrical, which made sense given the context of the night at Pianos, which I was still trying to piece together.

There was a long setup process between the sets, which left me wondering why this band Zipper Lips needed so much lead time. As I was waiting, I found a poster on the wall next to the bar—on the top, it said “Cast List.” I was in the dark—was this a play? Or was Zipper Lips continuing this theme of theatricality and performance? I overheard someone tell their friend, “What a riot grrrl thing to say,” and I wished I knew what they had said. The lights dimmed, and the crowd let out some woos as the band tuned their instruments.  Zipper Lips began playing, and I thought for a moment that maybe this was just a regular show after all. But then, one of the ladies with a Britney-style mic popped up in the middle of the stage and began to sing about being a lost girl on her way to liberal arts college. The character, Izzy, played by Abby Mohaddes, is amid a friend break-up with her high school bestie turned college roommate, Morgan, played by Marvelyn Ramirez. As the “lost girl,” Izzy begins to find her own place on campus—she comes across the riot grrrl chapter at her school and meets the lesbian, feminist musicians at the head of the movement. She’s inspired and smitten with Zipper Lips’s singer, Liana, played by Mika Simone. The story is infused with riot grrrl-esque songs that lean into the genre’s theatricality, a perfect medium for an indie musical about friendship, lesbianism, and political resistance. Izzy goes to a Zipper Lips show as an exploration of her newfound identity; at the same time, the audience is going to a Zipper Lips show, nodding along to referential punk songs played by Liana, Sam (Caroline Strickland), and Hazel (Bee Guzman-Elliott). When Zipper Lips is asked to go on tour with another local band, Izzy’s admiration for Liana brings her along. But the tour, the band, and the relationship begin to unravel. As the show wrapped, Izzy’s zines were passed around with Zipper Lips lyrics, poetry, and a QR code to stream Zipper Lip’s real song, “Do Ya?” I tucked the zine into my purse and got some French fries.

Photo by Catherine Woo.

It’s hard to be creative in a world inundated with copies, repeats, too-close references, and doppelgangers. Seeing a DIY riot grrrl musical in a small music venue was like opening a new door to a funhouse mirror I didn’t know existed. The show was earnest but self-aware, never taking itself too seriously. While it leaned on topics of collective liberation and self-discovery, which were the essential pillars of the riot grrrl movement of the 90s, its message felt as current as ever. The performances had a sense of transparency often unseen in typical musical theater pieces. The cast contains both theater artists and musicians, with some playing characters that feel close to their true personalities. The whole night felt like a rock show, because it was in many ways, not too far off from seeing your friend’s band play at Pianos.

Watching a show within a show had me questioning the lines between performance and reality. Was the audience moshing during the final song like the end of a Disney sing-along movie, or was it the genuine excitement of the culminating number? Whatever it was, everybody in the room was having fun, enjoying seeing a fresh and unbridled type of creativity. The rudimentary nature of the script added to the refreshing beauty of its naivete. After all, the most memorable stories are usually the least complicated ones, and the best for keeping a standing audience engaged for two hours. The night was a revelation to me, and not only because I had to uncover where I was in the moment. It also showed me the possibilities of how music and performance can take different forms to bring delight. Lost Grrrl Found built a world around the show, convincing me to step through its doors blindly.

Photo by Andy Gomez.