Girl in a Band: A Memoir
Author: Kim Gordon
(Day Street Books)
B+
One thing becomes very explicit within the first dozen pages of Kim Gordon’s Girl in a Band: This is not a story about Sonic Youth. Though the text does gravitate toward the music-centric discussion many rock memoirs tend to provide, Gordon’s autobiography remains in orbit like a hybridized satellite. In an appropriate retrospect, this is not dissimilar to the polymerized sound from the band’s prime. Girl in a Band, however, not only captures the cathartic feeling of artistry, but the inevitable triumphs and terror of life and love.
The memoir begins with Sonic Youth’s final performance in Sao Paulo, Brazil against the backdrop of a tropical downpour. Post-preface, the text assumes a more linear path, as Gordon harkens to her early life, focusing on the most impactful moments of her upbringing. She expertly weaves memories and traumas within the present despite decades of distance, and noticeable attention is drawn to the writer’s brother, an individual’s whose mind was as troubled as it was brilliant. From there, Gordon describes her many moves, an emergence into New York’s shifting art scene, and her pivotal entry into music. Of course, a description of the author’s time with Sonic Youth follows, but a reflection of her lengthy marriage to Thurston Moore and interactions with her daughter, Coco, hold the highest precedence.
Though it at times wanes to the point of dullness, Gordon’s writing is enticing enough to keep a reader engaged, and the brevity of the chapters yield continually developing insight. She offers an incredible depiction of setting; from the aforementioned South American musical festivals to the juxtaposed cities of the U.S. coasts, Gordon breathes an air of authenticity into these locales in just a few paragraphs. In tandem with this skill, Gordon illustrates the minute and major growths a city may garner over time, finding that even graffiti-stained garages may hold the theses of eras.
Perhaps ironically, Girl in a Band’s most draining passages deal specifically with musical production. Any tangent into what made Gordon famous comes off as violently jarring, while the much more substantial, personal bits are dangled only a few lines forward. Luckily, these periodic speed bumps fail to hinder the work detrimentally.
Visual aids are abundant, adding another layer of tangibility to the account. The images vary, often begetting chapters and featuring childhood photos — stills of an aging Gordon and snippets from live performances. Though probably not inherent, the grayscaled pictures embody things the text itself conjures; creases of darkness — sometimes monstrous in size — often work hand-in-hand with light, producing a somber, yet hopeful beauty. In this regard, the photos act more as a healthy supplement than a superficial page-filler.
Despite contending that “what had happened was probably the most conventional story ever,” an infectious intricacy and timelessness is found in this self-proclaimed, normal tale. Perhaps Gordon intentionally implies that the mundane can foster a hell of a reflection. It can, as it turns out.
