Formed in 1990, Bikini Kill’s uniquely powerful punk rock quickly found them heralded as the creators of an entirely new sub-genre, dubbed “riot grrrl”: a new musical morphology for a new decade that more directly than ever synthesized uncompromising feminism and punk in a pointed pair. While in subsequent years the term has had a hot-and-cold relationship with bands who’ve found themselves labeled as such – sometimes a welcome calling card to point like-minded individuals in the right direction; others a limiting factor that some felt undersold the totality of their influences – the fact that it persists to this day is a testament to how essential the original ethos of the riot grrrl movement remains. Plus, seeing Bikini Kill perform is one of the rare occasions to witness a lineup who demonstrably paved the way for the ferocious sounds and tone enjoyed by listeners of punk and punk-adjacent music today.
One need only scan the front row at Roadrunner during the band’s Boston date for proof of how the band still speaks to so many – the telltale X shapes on hands denote that plenty of those who eagerly made their way to the front were still ten-plus years away from existence when Bikini Kill was first branching out from the Pacific Northwest, but that hasn’t stopped them from filling this all-ages show in one of the larger venues in Boston. Bikini Kill’s classic among classics, ‘Rebel Girl’, has been covered numerous times in recorded form by bands including a recent rendition by The Linda Lindas, and countless more have performed it ad hoc in venues big and small across the world. The bevy of Idles shirts in the crowd suggests some may have also learned of the band that way, courtesy of a particularly sharp mental image conjured by Joe Talbot of Hanna dealing with a notable sex pest.
The night is a showcase of both talent and theory from original members Kathleen Hanna, Tobi Vail, and Kathi Wilcox, as well as touring guitarist Sara Landeau – all four change instrumental duties throughout the set, and Vail and Hanna have plenty to say about the state of the world now between their potent missives from the 90s as they alternate lead vocals. Early on in the night, Hanna says: “It’s amazing to be here tonight with everything going on in the world,” adding, “It’s a really fucked up time for our country,” a jab at the cabal of deranged politicians and pundits trying desperately to exert control over the bodies of others. But she also has an optimistic angle: “These motherfuckers are scared as hell, because they know their time is coming to an end,” she declares to massive cheers. With their song lengths tending towards the shorter side of things, compact and hard-driving as they are in the vein of their own forebears in the hardcore scene, Vail and Hanna have time to address the audience plenty even during a two-dozen-song set. At one point, the crowd is so silent and attentive that Hanna stops in her train of thought and just says, “You guys are really listening… You just undid 54 years of generational trauma” – and it’s true, the room is practically silent, and as in her lyricism, Hanna has a presence that implies that when she speaks, you’d be well-served by listening. She picks up the next song, ‘No Backrub’, which deals with the self-care people are so often reluctant to afford themselves.
‘I Hate Danger’ sees one of several rearrangements of who’s where on-stage, with Vail coming down from the drums to sing lead, Hanna rotating to bass, and Wilcox taking up the drum kit. Vail says the song is about growing up in the male-dominated hardcore scene, which she balances with a more positive memory of playing records from Boston-area bands on the radio in the eighties in Olympia. Meanwhile, Hanna’s motorik bass line is as powerful an anchor to the songs as her melisma is to the tracks where she sings. Not touring in support of any new release, the resurgence of Bikini Kill is an opportunity for fans both older and younger to experience a wealth of the sub-genre-defining songs that made them such a staple. ‘Jigsaw Youth’, which derived its name from a zine Vail made, even went on to spawn a band with the same moniker in 2021. There’s a constant mosh pit that begins early on, and before too long crowd surfers start emerging, some turning around to high-five their friends over the barricade before disappearing to the wings.
Over the course of the night, it’s almost impossible not to think of the core issues underlying riot grrrl and punk shows in general in 2023: the universality of the problems the band confronts in their lyrics, the fact that everything is recognizable in nature, demonstrates not only the strides made in equity in the past thirty years, but simultaneously how far there is yet to go. Hanna says that ‘Sugar’ is a song about “taking our bodies back from objectification,” a problem that proves difficult to eradicate even if the specifics shift with time. Songs like ‘Sugar’, with their frankness and deliberate vulgarity, helped breach what was once a much-heavier veil of silence on the quotidian struggle with the male gaze. The joy in the room is both a celebration of the progress that has been made, and a recharging point to come together and refresh a collective resolve to tackle the obstacles that still remain.
If there’s one thing that emerges as a theme as Hanna and Vail address the crowd, it’s how essential a lack of rigidity is to the process. Vail, calling back to her reminiscence on the hardcore scene in Olympia, says “I think it’s hard to keep two ideas at the same time” – while there were plenty of things wrong, there were are are women in the scene, people who kept it from being “100% fucked up”. Similarly, Hanna discusses how essential it is to learn from other generations, reframing the times she’s been told by someone younger that her terminology is outdated: “How many times have we been given that gift?” She invokes this necessary duality once again before the final song of the main set, dedicating ‘Suck My Left One’ to her sister whom she says is “kind of a bitch,” having voted twice for Trump. “I can love my sister over here, and still be disgusted by her bigoted behavior”. The song’s titular command draws a huge vocalization from the crowd, who remain in a circle pit during the encore break.
Hanna returns and says playfully, “Thanks for sticking around,” adding that their willingness to mosh even with no music is pretty cool. And naturally they wouldn’t dream of leaving, an electricity in the room signaling that a much-anticipated moment is at hand – the band has saved ‘Rebel Girl’ for last, a thematic and emotional culmination for the evening. The song – and the whole show, for that matter – have kind of felt like a punk baptism of sorts, especially for those seeing Bikini Kill for the first time. “Punk is about building community,” Hanna says in her final words to the crowd for the evening, and around these songs and the cluster of records from which they come, the band helped define a chapter in a story that continues to evolve and welcome new faces.
