Audrey Golden – chickfactor zine

July 10, 2025July 10, 2025

Interview with Culture Documenter and Author Audrey Golden

Audrey holding Ana’s 1979 Raincoats tour diary. Photo: Shirley O’Loughlin

Just a few days before the U.S. publication date of Shouting Out Loud: Lives of the Raincoats, we caught up with the New York writer-editor-journalist and cat mom Audrey Golden to ask about her process, the music she loves and her life. She also wrote the great oral history I Thought I Heard You Speak: Women at Factory Records, which finally unearthed the stories from the women behind the famed Manchester label. Scroll all the way down to see where some upcoming book events are and read our excerpt as well. (Photographs courtesy of Audrey Golden)

READ: Our excerpt from Shouting Out Loud

chickfactor: What are you up to today?
Audrey Golden: I’m listening to a new Lung Leg song that’ll be out in October, and I LOVE it. It’s so powerful, and so fun and cathartic to sing along to. I’m writing a piece about them and the music scene in Glasgow, and I’m trying to finish that up today.

I’m getting ready for the publication of and a lot of upcoming book events for Shouting Out Loud! I’m getting ready to head to Seattle and Portland next week (for events on July 17 and 18), then some events on the east coast (Rough Trade NYC on July 25 and Mass MoCA on July 31) before I head to Europe, where I’ll be joined by The Raincoats for events. Since the book is out really soon, I’ve also been doing interviews and some publicity for it. I’m so excited for it to finally get into readers’ hands! And really hoping it’s what all the lovers of The Raincoats are hoping it’ll be.

Where all have you lived?
I’ve lived in a lot of places, actually! I grew up on the east coast, in Connecticut and Florida, mostly. I went to college back in CT (at Wesleyan), law school in North Carolina (at Wake Forest U), and grad school in Charlottesville, Virginia at UVA, where I got my PhD. Being in academia, I also ended up in some places I didn’t expect but loved living, including Iowa City. I’ve spent the most time living in New York – both the city and the Hudson Valley, where I live now.

Inside cover of Audrey’s own Raincoats book notebook: “I start a new notebook for each project I work on,” she says

What was your family like? What were you like as a teenager?
Oh, man. There is so much I could say here but won’t (haha). My family was a little dysfunctional, and I’m the oldest of four kids who are all sort of close in age. Like any dysfunctional family, though, there were good aspects, too. I grew up in a family of readers, and I’m really grateful for that. Even when we barely had any money, my parents made sure we had books, and always let us pick out new books. It made me a person who values books and reading immensely. (I’ve definitely long been a believer in that John Waters quote, “if you go home with somebody and they don’t have books, don’t fuck them!” I think I’m getting that mostly right.)

I had a lot of responsibilities that a teenager probably shouldn’t have, and I felt really discouraged by what I saw as a really sexist world around me that just wouldn’t budge no matter what I did. I listened to a LOT of music and I loved making mixed-media art. I generally did really well in school academically (and I was lucky that I could do that without putting in very much effort), but I also hated high school so much — all the social bullshit, all the sexist, racist crap from the school administrators and teachers. I must have forged maybe 100 notes from my mom so I could have “excused” absences — there were so many days where I’d let my younger brother out of the car in the student parking lot, and as soon as I saw him go through the doors, I’d drive off and bring a note the next day that “explained” I had period cramps and had to stay home. None of those idiot administrators wanted to get into a conversation with me about that! Always worked like a charm. I listened to so much Nirvana, Veruca Salt, Soundgarden, Bikini Kill, Team Dresch, Screaming Trees, Letters to Cleo, Mudhoney, REM, Velvet Underground, NIN… and I took myself to so many movies when I skipped school. I got a lot of my music knowledge from film soundtracks, and I loved sitting alone in those theaters seeing Sofia Coppola’s The Virgin Suicides and Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous and dreaming of another life.

A notebook page from when she was working on Shouting Out Loud

Do you play music? Karaoke?
I started playing piano when I was 3 years old, and violin a few years later. I really hated taking lessons and playing classical music, but it was good training for being able to play different kinds of music later on. I’ve only recently gotten back into thinking about the violin, decades later (after playing up to college, with a symphony) because I recently bought a Fender electric violin that I can plug into pedals and really mess around with (I mean that in the best possible way!). I’ve never really stopped playing piano and keyboards/synths, and it’s a mix of just messing around in my music room and playing covers, playing a little bit on some of my partner’s music, and writing a little bit of my own (under the pseudonym Warm Druid). I also love playing ukulele, and I have way too many ukuleles depending on who you ask (haha!). Every time I see one that sounds just a little bit different, or has a cool design, I can’t help myself!

Tell us about your radio show — is it still going?
It’s on a little bit of a hiatus right this moment (largely because of time I just can’t seem to find!), but it’ll be back up and running very soon. The show is called “Breaking Glass,” and it highlights women in music — as musicians, obviously, but also women doing “behind the scenes” work that often doesn’t get recognized. And there are a lot more women doing that kind of work than I imagine most people suspect. We should be celebrating them more, and really encouraging younger women to get into some of those roles that are still dominated by men. I have a pipe dream of opening a small studio to train women as sound engineers, and at some point, I really want that to become more than just a pipe dream!

Did you always want to be a storyteller?
Yeah, I did, I think. Does everyone say this? I was constantly writing stories as a kid and making my own books. The latter is something I’ve actually continued to do, too — I make my own artist books and archival clamshell boxes. I really love the detail and precision work these require, and I especially love making miniature hardcover books and books with various Japanese bindings. But yes, back to the question, I think I’ve wanted to be a storyteller since a very young age because of how much I loved reading stories, and I’m on a constant search for books that make me sort of stop in my reading tracks, if you will. It feels like an incredible kind of thing to be able to contribute to the world. And my dad was also a wild storyteller (orally though, not in print), and maybe I’ve inherited a little bit of that, too.

Do you have any stories about hilarious/difficult/standout interviews you’ve done?
In terms of standout and hilarious interviews, and Shouting Out Loud-related, I LOVE interviewing Liz Naylor. I’ve talked to her now for three different projects (I Thought I Heard You Speak: Women At Factory Records; Shouting Out Loud: Lives of The Raincoats; and a draft a just finished, QUEERCORE for Bloomsbury’s new 33 ⅓ “Genre Series”), and she’s always such an incredible storyteller. She often will say she doesn’t have a great memory for X, Y, or Z thing, and then she ends up having a really fantastic and detailed memory. She’s also witty and hilarious. I hope I end up interviewing her for every book I write!

As for a sort of difficult one: I interviewed Mark Arm of Mudhoney several years ago for an article in advance of their first European tour after the pandemic lockdowns. I’m a really big Mudhoney fan, and I was very nervous to talk to him. I felt really self-conscious during the whole thing (over zoom), so I probably wasn’t at my best. Anyway, I got the sense he wasn’t having a good time talking to me, and I think I was getting a little flustered. At some point, I made a comment about my having been “around for grunge” (argh, I regretted it as soon as I said it), but yes said it, and he ran with it a little. I still feel sort of stupid about the whole thing, if I’m being honest. It feels good to let my embarrassment out here, ha!

Do you have any rituals or do’s and don’ts regarding interviews? Tips or advice?
In terms of do’s, always do research in advance, and as much as you can. Especially when you’re doing oral history research, it’s really crucial to have a lot of background information so you can ask the kinds of questions that are going to produce information that’s helpful to you. As for don’ts, this is probably obvious, but yes-or-no questions are rarely useful unless you’re really just trying to clarify a point or get someone to confirm some sort of “fact.” I really like oral history research — regardless of whether you’re ultimately gonna write a book in an oral history format — because of the way it creates a dialogic process of storytelling. So my techniques and approaches are always about trying to develop the kind of rapport with a speaker where they know they can trust you (and I hope most of the people I’ve interviewed for oral history research feel that way!), and where you’re able to actually engage in a kind of dialogue through which you can dig deeper into their responses with the knowledge that’s necessary to do that.

A tip/advice that I always like to do whenever I’m doing any kind of oral history interview research: give your interviewee the option (within reason) to come back and tell you that something they said is off the record, and that you’ll agree to keep this private. I think this is really crucial if you want to get as full a story as you can, and to ensure that you’ve attended to your interviewee’s emotional and psychological needs, and their own comfort, as well. I don’t ever want to be in the business of telling something that someone wants to keep private, and I feel like that’s a good rule for anyone doing oral history work to follow. It’s different, of course, if you’re interviewing an artist for an article about an upcoming record or tour, and you’ve gotta get the piece out in a couple of days. Essentially, use your good judgment, and always think of the ethics of the work you’re doing.

Why did you decide on the oral history format for I Thought I Heard You Speak? What are some of the challenges and benefits of doing an oral history?
I knew that book needed to be in an oral history format because of the stark exclusion of so many women’s voices from the history of Factory Records. I wanted their voices to be the thing in that book and to really shine — especially those women who did so much work to make that label work and weren’t even mentioned once by name, or were mentioned once in existing books and got their names misspelled.

You know, I originally wasn’t going to name him, but after some recent stuff, I feel like I really should. Can I do it here? I heard from one of the women I interviewed for that book (and who’s in the book), that she’d mentioned to James Nice she was interviewing with me, probably back in 2020 or 2021. She’d told him about my book and relayed to me that he’d replied with something to her like, “who’d want to read that book?” and I thought UGH. Up to that point, I’d loved reading his book on Factory, and loved knowing a lot of those stories. I’d hoped I Thought I Heard You Speak would be something that he and anyone else who’d written on Factory would see as this wonderful thing that enlivened the music history they loved so much, too. Anyway, on top of that comment, I saw Faber just reissued his Factory Records book, and in all the marketing and announcements, he’s doubling down on calling his book the “definitive history” of the label while adding stuff about how, essentially, everyone who is anyone agrees with that description. And people wonder how certain voices get marginalized from histories? It’s because of that insistence on the “definitive” label (as I’ve said a million times, I suspect, and in so many places, no history is EVER definitive), and the refusal of anyone to just own something and say “wow, can’t believe I missed some of these voices. So glad there’s something out there that really makes this history fuller!” Honestly, it only makes me want to break down all this male gatekeeping even more. For fuck’s sake. It bums me out, but I’m also not that surprised in the end. Sad about it, and demoralized, but not that surprised.

But let me also say a couple more good things about the oral history format and its challenges!!! Because this is also how I did a lot of the research for Shouting Out Loud. I knew I wasn’t going to write this book as an oral history (which Mojo got really wrong after reading it, which made me sad!) because there was a lot more research going into the book beyond those oral history interviews, but I also really wanted this to be a book with my narrative voice telling the story.

Oral history research can be really challenging because it can be REALLY difficult to track some people down, and it can be difficult to connect with people in interviews sometimes — no matter how much background research and work you do before the interview (so my advice about this is, give yourself a little grace if you’re doing this kind of research and an interview just doesn’t feel like it clicked, or that you got anything great out of it — it’s not always you!). And when you’re planning a book in an oral history format — like I Thought I Heard You Speak — you can feel a real need to get ALL of the voices you want in there, but if you can’t track someone down, or just can’t convince someone to speak, you can feel this sense of incompleteness. Ultimately, I think you’ve got to just live with that, and I like to provide a note about who I really wanted to talk with but couldn’t for whatever reason. One of the great joys of oral history work is that you become this interlocutor in the collation of a narrative and oral archive, even if it never leaves your own hard drive, and even if a lot of the material doesn’t end up in the book you’re writing. You become a collector of stories, and the histories alongside them, and I adore that aspect and find it really meaningful.

Audrey with Shirley, Ana, and Gina at a London pub dinner one night after she had been archiving their stuff

How did the political moment the Raincoats formed in shape their character?
So much, I think. They were thinking about the DIY rise of punk, the anti-racism and anti-sexism of the political moment in London (especially coinciding with Rock Against Racism and Rock Against Sexism), and I think they took all of that to heart and did something distinctive with it.

What are some classic Raincoats lessons we can apply to the current moment?
They saw that these converging moments (that I noted above) meant it was possible to truly make something your own way, and do it on your own terms. I love this quote Ana had when we were talking for the book, which I used in Shouting Out Loud, and it had to do with a fan coming up to her and Anne Wood at a 2010s show in Japan. The fan, a young girl, said she wanted to be like The Raincoats, and Anne essentially told her that you can be like The Raincoats by being yourself! What a great life lesson, and it reflects (to me) the line in “Fairytale,” that “no one teaches you how to live.” I wish I’d had that advice when I was a lot younger. I probably would have had a lot more self-confidence, and it wouldn’t have taken me until I was in my 40s to feel like I had a true sense of myself and what it means to really exist as yourself in the world. But I do now, I think. Thanks, Raincoats!

The Raincoats’ music seems like one element in their life’s work. They also show us that art is something you do into your older years, and many get better at it. Why do you think they have stayed relevant and what’s the secret to their longevity?
You know, I was just telling a friend something my grandmother said to me a few years before she died (and she lived a very long life in terms of years!). She said something like, “I always feel 25 yrs old when I’m just sitting here thinking, or watching something, and we all mostly do, until we try to stand up (she was having mobility issues at the time).” And, she added, “it all goes by like lightning.” What she meant, or at least how I took it, was that we don’t feel like older versions of ourselves (or oneself) at any given point in time. It’s still possible to have so many of the feelings we had a long time ago — sitting in an art classroom, and dreaming about the future, for example, or sitting in a park with a walkman while listening to Nirvana — time collapses in that way, and we still have access to the senses of wonder and possibility that are so characteristic of being young. I don’t know for sure about The Raincoats, but I think this is one of the things that makes it possible to feel like there’s no expiration date on creativity. And especially for women — that idea is such a product of a misogynist culture.

I think The Raincoats would also say that artists of varying generations becoming interested in their music has sort of re-catalyzed them, in turn, to come back to their own music and to want to make more art anew. They’re constantly inspiring, and being inspired — this circular process that’s really lovely to be able to track and to witness across time and space.

And, of course, in terms of the longevity of their music, there’s just absolutely NOTHING that’s tethered to a particular temporal moment in any of their songs or albums, and that is something that’s so amazing to me about their work. It feels like it could have been written at the same time the Fluxus artists started dipping into sonic expression, or just recorded yesterday. That’s one of the ways their music lives outside time (in addition to their intentionally arrhythmic time signatures), which is something that I really wanted to come across in Shouting Out Loud, and something that I think is so special about their music.

Audrey in a grizzly bear mask she sculpted with some ‘found’ grizzly jaws

The Raincoats had their community in the UK in the early days but seemed to fit in with the NYC scene more when it comes to music. It seems like a common theme with women musicians of that era – they were not taken seriously even though they turned out to be legends. Why was that?
Yeah, as I hope anyone who reads Shouting Out Loud will see, there’s a really indelible connection between The Raincoats and NYC. Their sound fit in (not by being similar to sonically, but by having a similar experimental approach to) so many of the no wave bands coming out of the downtown scene at the time. And so many of those artists were women! And as to the women-musicians-not-being-taken-seriously, argh, it’s so true, and I think it’s so much a result of women just not being taken seriously in general. I think a lot of that is because the gatekeepers were men — and by gatekeepers, I mean the ones writing the music journalism, running labels, overseeing venues, etc etc. I talked to Vivien Goldman about this for Shouting Out Loud, and in more detail for a profile I just did of her for Gusher magazine, but she was among the only women in this crucial role. For the most part, I think, you just weren’t getting male music journalists and A&R guys (and yes, they were mostly guys) celebrating female artists. I think that’s changing a little, but not as much as it could. I mean, look at the data coming out from UCLA’s Gender in Popular Music project. Female-fronted bands are still few and far between on major festival lineups, at the controls in sound booths, and on. And the same goes for so many artists of color, and women of color. There are still a lot of gatekeepers with ideas that don’t seem to have progressed from the 1970s and 1980s, at least when it comes to a lot of music stuff that isn’t in indie spheres.

What is it about the word feminism that many people have a hard time with, even feminist trailblazers. Is there a different word we should use?
I think there are different issues surrounding its use. Within The Raincoats, the band members who didn’t want to explicitly call themselves feminist definitely shared a belief in female equality and power but didn’t want to be pigeonholed. There’s also the question about (or lack of) intersectionality that became prominent in riot grrrl communities, and that’s quite obviously a significant and salient point — the way the term feminism was imagined was often a very white one. Even if there wasn’t an intentional exclusion of women of color, there was often a de facto one in terms of issues addressed and the way in which a “feminist” was envisioned.

I go back and forth myself about how I think of the term, and I think there are pros and cons of its use (but NOT pros and cons to the idea that women, including women of color, are equal to men). I don’t know if there’s a better word for that… EqualRightsist doesn’t quite have the same ring to it! Sort of pathetic we have to even think about defining ourselves in ways that make clear we believe women are equal, but that is indeed where we (still) are, and perhaps more than we even were a couple of decades ago, in some ways given the current political situation in the US.

Since we are facing a democracy crisis in the U.S., tell us how the idea of democracy worked for the band.
I think, like a lot of bands, The Raincoats really wanted to be a democracy, and it was their ideal. But, in practice, nothing ever really quite works that way, right? There were shared ideas that were always brought to the group, and they shared royalties very equally and fairly — everything to do with money was absolutely equal, no matter who wrote a particular song or came up with the bass line or whatever — and that’s something that remains really important to them. But I think when you put several very strong-willed and powerful women together in a group, a true democracy isn’t necessarily possible. Ongoing friendship and compromise, certainly! But true democracy, probably not really in the end (but perhaps it’s true to say they came closer than many other bands trying to get there!).

Tell us a story you had to leave out of the book for whatever reason.
I learned from The Raincoats that Anton Fier (of The Feelies, Lounge Lizards, Pere Ubu, and more) had auditioned to be their drummer at one point in the early 80s. I’m a HUGE fan of The Feelies, so I wanted to explore this a lot more. It turned out it wasn’t something that had stuck in the memories of The Raincoats as much as other things had, and unfortunately, Anton Fier had already left this realm, so I couldn’t get in touch with him to hear more.

Audrey’s hands at a 1/4″ tape reel to reel

What part of NYC do you live in?
I actually live in the Hudson Valley now! I was one of the NYC departers during COVID. I honestly love living near a train and being pretty close to the city now but having a backyard with a garden, and more wall space to hang more art! I feel really lucky to live in such a cool old house where I can still have access to NYC in all the best ways.

What are you working on now? Any other books in the pipeline?
Yes! I have a book for Bloomsbury’s relatively new “Genre Series” coming out in the nearish future on QUEERCORE, which was a total dream to write. I turned that manuscript in not too long ago, so I’ve now completely immersed myself (research and writing-wise) in my next big project, which is a biography of Mark Lanegan. I’m doing oral history research for this one, too, but unlike other books I’ve written, I’m planning to really craft this one in the form of a novel for all kinds of reasons that are constantly running through my head.

Audrey in a Guerrilla Girls paper cutout mask while sewing

What are you reading, watching, eating?
I’m one of those people who is always reading several different books at once, and in little spurts. I’ll go from one to another without finishing one, is what I mean. I’m currently revisiting Stefan Zweig’s The Royal Game, and I’m in the middle of Markus Werner’s The Frog in the Throat, Karen Russell’s The Antidote, and Nick Cave’s book of interviews with Seán O’Hagan. I’m also always going back to and reading new little portions of Walter Benjamin’s The Arcades Project, or rereading portions that I’d forgotten I’d read. There’s always something in there that brings meaning to me at some random moment.

Watching: I’m such a sucker for British detective shows, so that’s usually what I’m watching if I’m looking for something to interest me for a given 50 minutes or so! I especially love the detective shows with female leads.

I also recently watched Andrew Haigh’s film All of Us Strangers and loved it so intensely. And I also just saw The Ballad of Wallis Island, which warmed my heart like no other film has in recent memory — I loved it.

As for food, I’m always eating pasta and desserts… haha, maybe that doesn’t sound too great. I’m especially a sucker for really delicious pies.

Day jobs, pets, hobbies?
I work a regular 9-5 day job as an editor at Bard College. Writing books would be totally impossible, financially speaking, otherwise! I was on university faculty for a long time at a few different institutions, but I ultimately decided to leave academia in 2021 after a lot of careful thought, and I’m honestly really glad I did, although I miss teaching some of the great students I had over the years!

As for pets, I am a really ardent animal lover. Currently, we have three cats (two newly adopted 2-yr-old bonded siblings, Ozzy and Augustus Pablo, who are super sweet). Our third cat is Marguerite, a 13-yr-old weirdo, who we’ve had since she was a kitten, and who I love for who she is! I recently lost my sweetest boy, Matin, a 13-yr-old tabby cat who we’d also had since he was a kitten (some friends found him, along with his sister Marguerite, in pretty bad shape in the woods, and we rescued them). He was the best animal, and I miss him every day, honestly. I’ve also had and fostered dogs in the past, and I’m constantly pestering my partner about adopting another dog (he’s sort of agreed to move forward with that plan in January, after my book travel settles down). I’ve also been trying to convince a couple of local farmers to let me “invest” in two sheep on their farm (meaning, basically, I’d have two sheep of my own at their farm). I’d honestly have a whole menagerie of rescue creatures if I had the space and finances to do it.

And hobbies! I’m a book and art and record collector, and I play a lot of music in my spare time. I also love fashion design and try to work on my own clothes when I find cool new textiles, or something at a thrift store I can dye and repurpose.

Upcoming book events for Shouting Out Loud:

July 17, Seattle, Hex Enduction Books and Records, 6pm (part of Art Walk, and there will be a singalong!)
July 18, Portland OR, Powell’s, with Gail O’Hara, Corin Tucker, and Sheri Hood, 7pm
July 25, NYC, Rough Trade NYC, with Evan “Funk” Davies of WFMU, 6pm
July 31, North Adams MA, Mass MoCA, 5pm
August 30, Dorset UK, End of the Road Festival, In-convo with Gina Birch, 10:30am, signing 12pm
August 31, Bristol UK, Rough Trade Bristol, with Ana Calderon of Digital Resistance, 5pm
September 3, Glasgow UK, Glad Cafe, with The Raincoats, 7pm
September 6, London UK, Rough Trade East, with The Raincoats, 7pm
October 14, Porto PT, Termita bookstore, with Ana da Silva
October 18, Lisbon PT, Well Read Lisbon, with Ana da Silva
TBD:
- Los Angeles
- Boston

Records Audrey cannot live without

New Order, Power, Corruption & Lies
Ramones, Rocket to Russia
Hole, Live Through This
Townes Van Zandt, Live at the Old Quarter
Leonard Cohen, Songs from a Room
Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs
The Feelies, Crazy Rhythms
Mark Lanegan, Whiskey for the Holy Ghost
The Raincoats, Odyshape
Bikini Kill, Pussy Whipped
Nirvana, Unplugged in New York
Velvet Underground, Loaded
Team Dresch, Personal Best
Bob Dylan, Blood on the Tracks

Audrey with Ana and Shirley, leaning over a record label in their living room, trying to help them figure out if that was an original 1979 The Raincoats vinyl label or a 1993 reprint for Rough Trade (it was in a folder of Ana’s stuff)

Audrey looking at a color photo slide while cataloguing the Raincoats archive in Ana and Shirley’s kitchen. Photo: Gina Birch

July 8, 2025July 8, 2025

Excerpt: Shouting Out Loud: Lives of the Raincoats by Audrey Golden

Ana da Silva by Joe Dilworth, 1995, courtesy of the Raincoats

Gina Birch by Joe Dilworth, 1995, courtesy of the Raincoats

We are thrilled to present an excerpt from Audrey Golden’s new book SHOUTING OUT LOUD: LIVES OF THE RAINCOATS: Read three sections from the book’s midsection about the impact the Raincoats’ music had on Olympia, Washington, in particular. It’s a wonderful snapshot of how we all discovered music in the pre-internet (basically) era and it shows how bands like the Raincoats exploded the notion of what it means to be punk.

US folks can order here – out July 15
UK folks can order here – out July 31

Or come get a book at one of Audrey’s book events next week:
July 17 Seattle: a book reading and a Raincoats sing-a-long at Hex Enduction Records in Seattle as part of Art Walk!
July 18 Portland: Come to Powell’s Books for a book launch event featuring Audrey, Corin Tucker, former Raincoats U.S. manager Sheri Hood and Gail O
July 25 NYC: Book talk and signing at Rough Trade Below in NYC
July 31: MassMoca book event

LIFE NUMBER 2

“We realized eventually that in the United States, that’s where we had the most people interested in what we do, and where we had the biggest influence,” Ana says. And so, in the rainy musical wilds of America’s Pacific Northwest, The Raincoats’ second life began.

Beautiful KAOS at 89.3 FM

Unbeknownst to the band, their second life was germinating well before they’d even broken up and their first life came to a somewhat unceremonious end. It all began at KAOS, Olympia, Washington’s independent public radio station operating in partnership with the gloriously radical Evergreen State College.

Bruce Pavitt, who’s perhaps best known as a cofounder of Sub Pop Records in Seattle, developed a lifelong interest in hyperlocal music communities once he made it out to Olympia in 1979. As he saw it, the scene in Washington’s small capital city was a place shaped by the influence of The Raincoats. When Bruce left his hometown of Chicago to attend Evergreen and joined the slate of presenters at KAOS, he discovered “the most progressive music policy in America,” and what he emphasizes is “an unexplored impact.” That story actually starts with John Foster, Bruce explains.

“John was the music director at KAOS, and his feeling was that a community radio station should play music that prioritizes music made by members of the community,” Bruce says. “So he instituted a policy that stated eighty percent of what got played at KAOS had to be on an indie label. This is where I got my real education.” Bruce started his KAOS show and zine of the same name, Subterranean Pop, out of which he eventually formed Sub Pop Records to the north, “and all this flowed out of the KAOS music policy.” Bruce got a quick introduction to the Rough Trade bands, which were central at KAOS. “Rough Trade happened to be an indie DIY, of course, but what’s also crucial contextually is that they were supporting so much music made by women.” In Bruce’s KAOS show, he pulled from the station’s vast collection that included The Raincoats, Delta 5, Young Marble Giants, and others. “‘Lola’ by The Raincoats was getting a lot of airplay,” Bruce says, “and it influenced the culture of the whole community.”

As John reflects, “The one thing I can say about Olympia in the late seventies and early eighties is that it was not a bunch of snobby scenesters; folks were very nice. Everyone who participated in the scene, playing or observing, was welcome and accepted for whatever they brought. The Raincoats embodied that ethos to us.”

Bruce cites Calvin Johnson and his band Beat Happening as particularly influenced by The Raincoats, thanks to KAOS. Calvin was playing The Raincoats on his KAOS Olympia Community Radio show Boy Meets Girl. Fellow Olympia artist and musician Lois Maffeo also draws a connection between The Raincoats and Beat Happening: “It would be pure speculation to say that Beat Happening found inspiration in The Raincoats’ music, although sonically, I can see a parallel in the skronky songs of Supreme Cool Beings, whose cassette was the first release on K Records [the label Calvin would later establish in Olympia].” Referring to Calvin specifically, Lois says, “His anti-corporate philosophy and esthetic of both music-making and music-listening are central to the Northwest scene.”

Slim Moon, who’d go on to found another influential Olympia label, Kill Rock Stars, remembers Lois’s own KAOS show Your Dream Girl as a constant source of Raincoats songs. It created a dialogue among a wide and diverse range of female artists, and there was rarely a Your Dream Girl show, if there even was one, that didn’t feature at least one Raincoats track. Lois frequently drew from The Kitchen Tapes, playing “Puberty Song,” “Rainstorm,” and “No Side to Fall In.” As for the latter, Lois was completely taken in by the sound of the electric violin on that track, explaining, “‘No Side to Fall In’ just starts with that ripping scratch sound and then matches it at the end with the bare chorus of voices singing along with, what, a stick and a can? That combination of wild sound and plain sound was catnip to me! Today!” She also loved “In Love,” the first Raincoats song she ever heard when she bought a copy of Wanna Buy a Bridge? on vinyl in a Seattle record shop.

Lois’ playlist from January 1985, courtesy of Lois Maffeo

Lois regularly featured tracks from The Kitchen Tapes for a simple reason: “I was proud to own it,” she says. “I’m not a record collector/nerd/jerk in general, but I think I was bragging a little with that. I loved that tape because it was authentic-sounding. It had all the mistakes and out-of-tune moments that only happen on live recordings and I found that really invigorating.” For Lois, the cassette was also a prized possession because it “shared songs from my absolute favorite record by The Raincoats—the ‘Animal Rhapsody’ 12-inch with ‘No One’s Little Girl’ and ‘Honey Mad Woman’ on the B-side,” so she was “delighted to hear live versions of beloved tracks.” Lois loves that single so much that, she says, “It’s the only record I have two copies of. I wanted to make sure that if I wore the first one out, I’d have a backup!”

As a KAOS presenter, Lois’s show was crucial not only in cementing the significance of The Raincoats in Olympia, but illuminating a sonic lineage of which The Raincoats were a crucial part. On Your Dream Girl shows, The Raincoats played alongside artists who came long before like Eartha Kitt, contemporaries such as Kleenex/LiLiPUT [due to legal issues, the band initially called Kleenex changed its name to LiLiPUT in late 1979] and Crass, as well as more recent hip-hop and disco artists like Taana Gardner. Lois describes her playlists as “genre-busting.” That term, she says, also emerges if you listen solely to Raincoats records. “If you hear The Roches, African electric guitars, eighties NYC hip-hop, nursery rhymes, British pop,” Lois reflects, “yep, it’s there but it’s re-patterned and made into something new. Radically different from pastiche.”

Bruce is certain: “KAOS came to shape the culture of Olympia,” and “KAOS is ultimately the roots of Raincoats appreciation in Olympia and ultimately the Northwest.”

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But Really, All Roads Lead to Olympia

The Pacific Northwest became ground zero for the birth of The Raincoats’ second life, centered on a vibrant new generation of feminist, anarchic, queer musicians. After KAOS playlists had enough airtime to shape the cultural framework of the small Washington city, connections to The Raincoats really became apparent. Fellow West Coaster and drummer extraordinaire Patty Schemel declares, “Olympians revere The Raincoats.”

According to Lois Maffeo, the “ethos of the music and art scene” in Olympia at that point in time was akin to what The Raincoats revealed was possible: “Make do and make magic out of nothing.” Simple enough, right? But as Lois emphasizes, “The scene in Olympia was aware that simplicity wasn’t simple”—they recognized the trick of The Raincoats’ music.

The Raincoats’ songs became part of the fabric of the city and the culture it (re)produced. “The acts of making music and making art were liberating,” Lois says. “What were we liberated from? Corporate culture. Patriarchy. Religion. Military. Expectations. And many of us heard the sound of those expectations being dissected and the sound of that freedom being enacted in the music of The Raincoats. The arrow flies from ‘No One’s Little Girl’ to Riot Grrrl pretty swiftly.”

Like Lois, Jean Smith of the Vancouver band Mecca Normal was also taking cues from The Raincoats. Although Jean was based in a city a few hours north of Olympia, her two-piece band with David Lester would, like Beat Happening and so many of the Riot Grrrl artists to come, become abidingly linked to Olympia and K Records. “Listening to The Raincoats freed me from many previously held limitations,” Jean says. “That they were women made that freedom tangible. Visceral. I could hear their like-minded affinities and encouragement, yet their approaches were all very different. They seemed to be functioning based on working fully with what they had at hand, giving it everything in terms of creativity, confidence, and vulnerability.” Jean underscores that she and David are a bit older than the Riot Grrrls who emerged out of Olympia in the early nineties; Mecca Normal’s music was important, like Lois’s KAOS show, in making Riot Grrrl possible. “The Raincoats allowed me to take inspiration, to build and maintain confidence, and some years later, to inspire the cofounders of Riot Grrrl,” says Jean, “along with The Raincoats and all those other women-fronted bands that energized a social movement that, to this day, still shows signs of being ongoing as opposed to over, in the way that rock historians like to nail things down.”

Corin Tucker during the time Olympia was discovering the Raincoats. Courtesy of Corin

Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker of Sleater-Kinney, who were some of those original Riot Grrrls in Olympia (with the bands Excuse 17 and Heavens to Betsy), confirm Jean’s words. “I always liked how The Raincoats felt deliberately and dangerously strange,” Corin says, “and that gave license to a lot of bands in Olympia, including Sleater-Kinney, to forgo traditional instrumentation. We didn’t have a bass, and often we were playing dueling melodies. The Raincoats deconstructed all these entrenched, codified ideas about music and yet remained very appealing and clever.” Carrie agrees: “I love the artiness of The Raincoats combined with this intellectual quality. The music showed a real openness to experiment within the band that I really related to, and that avant-garde element was something that really influenced Sleater-Kinney.”

As any fan knows, the band name Sleater-Kinney originates from Sleater Kinney Road that runs through Lacey, Washington, adjacent to Olympia. “We didn’t relate to that meat-and-potatoes punk rock and were always striving for something more experimental,” Carrie says, “so The Raincoats were very influential to us in that way.” Corin adds, “I don’t know if they were trying to be ugly, with a sort of dissonance, but to us, there was something so charming about that, and that charm had teeth to it. It was a kind of cloaked weaponry that Sleater-Kinney was really into.” She continues, “With Sleater-Kinney, we wanted to say, ‘Come a little closer, and out come those teeth,’ and The Raincoats did that, too. I feel like bands in Olympia wouldn’t dare be as weird as they actually were without The Raincoats, because otherwise people are too afraid to do that stuff. But The Raincoats sounded fearless.”

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In 1983, Calvin wrote one of the first US Raincoats cover stories and interviews in OP magazine, in which he asked Ana what she liked to have for breakfast (she wasn’t keen to answer). John Foster of KAOS was a cofounder of OP with Toni Holm, Dana Squires, and David Rauh. The magazine was short-lived—only twenty-six issues, one for each letter of the alphabet—and the founders wanted more Raincoats. Dana, who also served as art director for the magazine, says: “They were an influence, as they sounded like they were doing what they needed to do . . . sounded natural.” Bruce Pavitt remembers Dana’s love of The Raincoats in particular. “I very specifically remember her reproducing the Odyshape cover,” he smiled. He also describes OP as an influential magazine that did in print what KAOS did in sound, ultimately reaching a bigger audience. “KAOS DJs wrote for OP,” he explains, and, “Both KAOS and OP began getting international recognition.”

Kathi Wilcox and Ana da Silva, 1993. Courtesy of Kathi Wilcox

As a fan and interviewer of The Raincoats, Calvin would ultimately be the one to introduce The Raincoats to one of the artists who permanently put Olympia on the feminist map. Tobi Vail, cofounder and drummer of Bikini Kill, “first heard The Raincoats in September 1984 because Calvin put them on a mixtape for me,” she says. She was fifteen years old.

She knew Beat Happening as a local band and had gone to see a few of their shows, but she also associated Calvin with his day job: He drove a shuttle from Evergreen State College to downtown, and that’s how Tobi got to a lot of gigs. She’d also listened to Calvin’s KAOS show and was eager to know more about some of the female artists he’d been playing. Tobi spotted him one day in downtown Olympia. “I ran up to him on the street and said, ‘You just played this song on the radio, and you said the band was all girls, and they weren’t singing in English. Who was it?!’” Calvin assumed it was Shonen Knife (an all-female Japanese pop-punk band from Osaka, who’d ultimately be released in America on K Records), but Tobi insisted it wasn’t and that she needed a mixtape. It turned out the band was the female-fronted French group The Calamities, who recorded a single eponymous LP on Posh Boy Records (a Hollywood label linked to the rise of the early-eighties punk scene in Orange County). Calvin’s mixtape included The Raincoats’ “In Love.” Tobi fell in love with The Raincoats.

She started hanging out at Calvin’s apartment where she could listen to his Raincoats records, and a couple years later got her own KAOS show. “The reason I did it was because, that way, I wouldn’t have to bother other people to tape me records,” she remembers. “I could hear all the music I wanted and listen to The Raincoats [album].” KAOS was the only place in town besides Calvin’s apartment with an original copy. “I immediately started listening to that record. It got stuck in my head, it lasted, and there was more and more to discover,” Tobi says. The song “The Void” would become her anthem of sorts, shaping her musical sensibilities as she formed bands that included the Go Team (with Calvin) and, soon after, Bikini Kill. “I was obsessed,” she admits.

Tobi didn’t actually own the record herself for several more years—British import copies from 1979 were extremely hard to come by. “I’d never seen it in a record store here ever,” she remembers, initially assuming it was because Olympia was “pretty isolated, and the record stores here had a limited selection of punk and post-punk.” When she went on tour to San Francisco in 1987, she thought she’d find it, but nothing. “As a kid in the United States, it turned out you could only have that record if you happened to be alive and buying music when it came out in 1979.” Tobi introduced her friend Kurt Cobain, who was about to become known worldwide as the frontman of Nirvana, to The Raincoats. They’d listen to them together on the cassettes they’d recorded from Calvin’s vast collection. She eventually got her own copy when Kurt and Nirvana went over to Europe. “He brought me some Wipers records from Germany, too,” Tobi recalls.

A manifesto from Ana and Gina for @wepresent

Meanwhile, in a more roundabout way, Calvin was also the link between Kathi Wilcox of Bikini Kill and The Raincoats. Around 1984 or ’85, Kathi’s stepbrother gave her the Fairytale 7-inch EP. He was a student at Evergreen and lived across the hall from Calvin, so “he was familiar with the music scene and bought all these records,” Kathi remembers. She wasn’t even in high school yet. Eventually, her stepbrother wanted to listen to his vinyl on cassette, so he brought the goods to her and asked if she’d make cassettes of them all; the upshot was she could keep the vinyl. Fairytale was in that stack. “Suddenly I had the Raincoats!” Kathi says. “I didn’t have any frame or reference for understanding their music, but that record hit me the hardest when I got into high school and was really trying to wrap my mind around what music was.” It gave Kathi a way to completely recalibrate her thinking about songs—how they’re made and what they can do. When she eventually met Tobi, they came to one another as Raincoats fans. Kathi didn’t have the self-titled LP The Raincoats, and Tobi didn’t have the Fairytale EP, so they shared their records.

Carrie Brownstein of Sleater-Kinney confirms that the apartment complex where Calvin and Kathi’s stepbrother were living was a Raincoats hotbed. “I definitely first heard The Raincoats in the Martin Apartments in Olympia, around 1994. Everyone was looking for those records,” she says. “They were just something you were searching for. And if you had a Raincoats record, you definitely showed it off in your apartment!”

“I didn’t know then, but it seems like lots of encounters people were having with our music was through tapes, and people making tapes of tapes of tapes,” Ana says. “In Portland, Olympia, I heard from Calvin of K Records that he was doing that kind of thing, and Rob Sheffield in New York, as well.”

Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill eventually made her way to Olympia to attend Evergreen State College. It was there—thanks in large part to the ethos of a city inspired by The Raincoats—that she learned without a doubt “punk is NOT a genre,” Kathleen declares. “I was already open to the idea that punk wasn’t a genre—it’s an idea!—but listening to the bands on K Records, and listening to The Raincoats, made me know that punk doesn’t have to be this in-your-face aggressive, fuck-you music. It can be this really complicated, nuanced thing.” What punk meant, Kathleen learned from The Raincoats, “was that we could do whatever the fuck we wanted, and what felt important was making the kind of music we wanted to make.”

Here’s Audrey in the Quietus on the Raincoats

You can read another excerpt here