Talk about buzz bands: Go Betty Go is it in Southern California. They've opened for Ozomatli and Los Lobos and secured a spot on this past summer's Warped Tour as the only non-male act. Entertainment Weekly recently deemed Go Betty Go “LA's ass-kickingest punk band,” and LA Weekly rewarded the group earlier this year with a gargantuan 2,000-word profile. Rumors are major labels have sought to sign the quartet and Ozomatli's Wil-Dog Abers is producing their coming EP.
The word of mouth around Go Betty Go is unprecedented in the local Latin-alternative music galaxy, and more is sure to come. But one question remains: Why?
Sure, the punkeras are adept songstresses who barrel through a tight repertoire of screeches, screeches and screeches. And charismatic? Lead guitarist Betty Cisneros slices off gruff shards from her distorted electric self, golden-tressed drummer Aixa Vilar pounds on her kit with the intensity of a Texas oil-well striker, Michelle Rangel commands an ominous bass almost as large as her own frame, and Nicolette Vilar (hermana de Aixa) fronts this cacophony with smartly timed howls.
It's good stuff, really, but not enough to warrant all the attention. While pleasing to the ear, the group doesn't differ much from a load of other local bands. Their bilingual repertoire is becoming standard for any Latino musical act; the music—while moshingly acceptable—isn't adventurous. It's Bikini Kill without the politics and minus the guy, the Bangles with more edge, a Hispanic Donnas or Sahara Hotnights.
So what's with the Go Betty Go go-go phenomenon? Gender. In LA's Latin-alternative music scene, women are usually relegated to lead singer or tambourine. To see four chicks onstage ripping chords with as much if not more rancor as the boys (most of Southern California's rockeros are mop-topped impotents) is an empowering experience for anyone who cares about smashing sexism in music.
Yet Go Betty Go want to hear nothing about womanhood when discussing their music. Their publicist scoffed when I recently told her that maybe one reason the Glendale gals are so popular is because they're attractive and they know their punk. The publicist (voice like a box of broken bottles) accused me of chauvinism and sexually objectifying the band's members for even bringing up gender.
And then she revealed more. She said the girls have been “traumatized” since I wrote a March 6 show review for LA Weekly criticizing Vilar for “Gwen-ing a bit too much” during a Roxy performance (I said she'd allowed her “bouncing breasts” to “speak louder than her growls”) and for asking Rangel to the prom in the course of 300 words. To focus on Go Betty Go's femininity, the publicist fumed, would be unwise, and the band was hesitant to speak with me because of my “inappropriate” criticisms.
Go Betty Go ultimately refused an interview request for this story, remarking that they'd rather speak to me “when we have a bigger concert to promote”—bigger than this Sunday's show at DiPiazza's.
I'd like to say it's understandable that Go Betty Go wouldn't want to talk gender when discussing their music. But it's not. To talk about gender in rock N roll is to acknowledge the psychological power of the female form, the absence of women in music, the mainstream culture's resistance to seeing women in a position of leadership—up onstage, without men, acting out the darker impulses of the American Id. That power isn't the only reason for the group's success, but it's a reason the group sees even if its publicist does not: “The fact that we're all girls seems to help,” Aixa told an LA Weekly reporter, commenting on why the police take it easy on them whenever they have to stop Go Betty Go's extra-loud practices.
This macho world needs more bold women—boldness not merely of the body but also of the mind. And the band is missing a chance to open a new, revolutionary string in the dialogue on sexism in music. If we can't talk about gender, we can't say much. Without that, Go Betty Go is as unremarkable as they come.
Go Betty Go perform with Sons Of Bitches, Audiopilot and Siberian Stepchild at Dipiazza's, 5205 E. Pacific Coast Hwy., Long Beach, (562) 498-2461. Sat., 9 p.m. $10. All ages before 11 p.m.; 21+ after.
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