The original Rock ’n’ Roll Camp for Girls was founded in Portland, Ore., in 2001 and has since spread worldwide with independent girls rock camp branches in Denver, Chicago, Brooklyn, Washington, D.C., and even London. Among all of these camps, Girls Rock Camp Austin has the decided advantage of being in Austin, Texas—the self-appointed live-music capital of the world and home to many talented female musicians more than willing to give their time as instrument coaches, guest lecturers, and performers.

All the camps have the same basic premise: The girls (ages 9-18) break into bands based on common musical interests and goals. Assisted by band managers and counselors, the young ladies create an entirely original song during the course of one week. Along the way, they attend classes and lectures on topics such as empowerment and self-defense. Campers are given complete creative power over their performances, and as I know from personal experience, that gives you a feeling that performing a cover song never could.

I first attended the Austin camp in 2007. It had just opened, and there were only 50 or so girls in attendance. The experience opened my eyes to all the possibilities of my creative potential and clued me in to the powers I possess as an independent woman. Once you know what it’s like not to have to apologize for who you are, to stand in the spotlight and have an audience cheering just for you, there’s nothing you can’t do.

I have remained a part of Girls Rock Camp since then, as both a camper and an intern, spending half of the camp writing and performing and the other half moving equipment. At this year’s first of two sessions—July 22-27; the second session took place July27-Aug. 1—in addition to doing a bit of roadie work, I interviewed campers, performers, and instructors and also photographed various workshops, band practices, and the final showcase for the GRCA blog.
　

The typical Girls Rock day usually begins with a sort of rock ’n’ roll warm-up that involves screaming, dance parties, and exercises in trust, confidence, and self-defense. Then campers are given lessons in their chosen instrument (vocals, guitar, bass, drums, or keyboard). At lunch all star guest performers, which this year included Rosie Flores, Follow That Bird! , LZ Love, and Adrian & the Sickness, performed for the girls and answered questions about every aspect of being a female musician.

Then it was time for band practice, followed by a variety of workshops and seminars on everything from making your own merch to demonstrations of the musical saw and seminars on gender roles in music. While the older girls cut and pasted zines for their bands, the younger half of the girls, ages 9 through 11, piled into a classroom and sprawled on the carpet for a seminar on gender in music videos.

This year Dr. Mary Kearney, associate professor in the Radio-Television-Film Department at the University of Texas at Austin, was a guest speaker. She talked about gender roles and women in music, such as Joan Jett and Patti Smith.

Kearney explained how women in music videos are seen through the eyes of the (usually male) directors, producers, writers, and cinematographers as she flipped through a series of ads for everything from yogurt to cars, all of them objectifying women. She paused the slideshow on a particularly striking ad for some sort of mixed drink—in it a faceless man straddles a buxom, bikini-clad woman lying on her back.

“Who’s in control here?” Kearney asked the campers.

The answer from the group was deafening: “THE MAN!!!”

“Why?” she asked.

“’Cause he’s wearing pants!” one camper said.

“Because he’s a jerk!” another declared.

“Because he’s standing over her!” yet another camper shouted.

Kearney moved on to the music video for Lita Ford’s “Kiss Me Deadly.” Indignant and just ever so slightly red-faced, the girls exploded in protest.

“They’re more interested in how her body looks than her music!” one said.

And another: “You can barely see her play guitar!”

They were right, of course. There’s a lot of blond hair and hips, but the shots of Ford playing guitar are brief and vague. She stands a good 10 feet away from the camera and in deep shadow, hands and guitar hidden. The group went on to discuss how hard it is to fit into the young-blond-haired-blue-eyed-big-breasted-white-girly-girl stereotype. It was an indication of the solemn mood that the word “breast” induced no giggles. Not a one. These girls were dead serious.

As the seminar wound down, the topic switched to challenging the male gaze. Music videos by Ciara, Keri Hilson, Björk, and Courtney Love played on the projector as Kearney explained how these women desexualize and empower themselves through their videos and in some cases even reverse and draw attention to the gaze. There was a great deal of nodding and determined looks among the girls.

As I went from room to room during band practice the next day, Kearney’s influence was clearly apparent in the attitudes of the newly formed bands and even more so in their lyrics. I peeked into a crowded practice room with its amps pumped up so high the floor shook. “We’ll put up a fiiiiight!” howled a petite, long-haired girl with a huge voice. The rest of the developing songs were just as impressive.

I walked in on the practice of a yet-un-named band made up of Zoey Graham on guitar, Chandler Lindsey on keyboard, Frankie Blue on drums, CiCi Blackwood-Cross on bass, and Natalie Shey on vocals. I expected there to be at least a little bickering among these middle-school girls, but they all got along. It was amazing how cooperative and smooth their song-making process was—from what I could tell, there were no arguments, hurt feelings, or an excess of bossiness. Instead, a palpable air of excitement filled the room.

After a few brief tangents and snatches of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It,” the band got down to work. In just a few days they had already managed to lay down the foundation for their eventual performance. They had been working on a roller coaster of a song, incorporating both heavily distorted riffs and a pretty, ethereal chorus with lots of cymbals and bluesy vocals. It was pretty frickin’ great.

They diligently practiced transitioning to the bridge for a while before deciding to break for a snack and choose a band name.

All Things Freckled was dismissed as much too Irish. Freckles was too short. The Mitch Mitchell Jamboree Experience was too long. And so on … until they hit on Schmillion, which went through a number of evolutions: Straight Up Schmillion, A Schmillion Ways, The Schmillion. Eventually the bandmates decided on their original Schmillion. The exact origins of the word were unclear, but the whole band agreed it was a perfect band name.

For the past two years, the Girls Rock Camp showcase has been held at the Parish, a local live-music venue known for hosting world-famous acts. And this one, of course, was no exception. After all, these girls are the future world-famous acts, the next Joan Jetts. And make no mistake, these campers were, without exception, confident and “totally psyched” about their impending debut.

Just before the show started, volunteers handed out camp T-shirts and conducted sound checks while the girls milled about the venue, chatting excitedly and applying copious amounts of black eyeliner.

I took pictures of a group of girls (most from a band aptly christened Supernova) as they hastily tuned their guitars and smeared glitter eye shadow on one another.

“How do you feel?” I asked. “Nervous at all?”

“NO!!!” they shrieked, practically in unison.

“I cant waaaait!” moaned one girl as she flopped down on the couch.

Another drummed excitedly on her bandmate’s head, ignoring her squeals of protest. “We’re gonna ROCK!”

Every style of music was represented at the showcase, ranging from the fun and contagious Awkward, who got the audience moving with a catchy bassline and even threw in a few bars from the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated,” to the more ethereal sounds of “The Dreadfully Ugly Children” and a Girls Rock Camp rap composed by the vocal class.

There was no anti-climax; every band tore up the stage with their own unique styles—punk girls with spiky hair and spikier collars, metal goddesses, pop princesses, neon leopard prints, plaid and glitter galore, enthusiastic head-banging and duck-walking, and some memorable bits of audience participation.

After the show, the girls ran out into the audience hugging and singing snatches of each other’s songs.

“That was sooo awesome!”

“You were so good!”

“You were better!”

“Schmillion forever!”

“I want to do it all over again!”

“We ROCK!”

That really says it all, doesn’t it? PD






Eris Tock is a Girls Rock Camp Austin graduate. She aspires to be a music journalist someday.