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all the articles, all the time. |
The Hype: Quick Quotes for the Harried and Flustered Reporter
The Press (Hedwig and the Angry
Inch):
Creative Loafing:
Wiggy Stardust
The Press:
| a
n g e l a m o t t e r :
THE HYPE quick quotesfrom around the nation for “Pleasure and Pain” |
from the gay
“...one of the
best singer/songwriter
albums from an Atlanta artist this year.”
“...an album shimmeringwith dignified soul. ...husky,
uncut vocals and smart, tuneful
songwriting.”
“This level of talent offers
a backbone of musical confidence that radiates
without question...”
“...swampy, steamy, incredibly
sexy.”
“...one of the
best albums
of the year, independently released or otherwise.”
“...Pleasure and Pain is one of the most
compellingdiscs
of 1999.
...clever, thoughtful lyrics... unwaveringly soulful vocals. ...it’s
inexplicable why the mainstream press has yet to catch on to her stunning
sophomore set.”
|
The Press: Angela as Yitzhak in Hedwig and the Angry Inch
ARTS | THEATER 06.12.03
Wiggy Stardust
Actor's Express' Hedwig measures up to Inch
BY CURT HOLMAN
Out-of-towner Mark Salyer has some big wigs to fill as the lead in the Actor's Express production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask created the title character as an early 1990s drag act -- one that evolved into the toast of off-Broadway and an indie-film starlet. As the stage play's originator and the film's star and director, Mitchell, it would seem, owns Hedwig in perpetuity. And with Mitchell setting the standard, Salyer has a task akin to an Elvis impersonator -- only with lipstick and feather stoles.
During Hedwig's opening number, "Tear Me Down," Salyer sounds so much like Mitchell that he seems to be doing an imitation. But Salyer measures up to Inch with his dynamic stage presence, wry humor and soulful crooning. It's a relief that the Express found the right Hedwig, because the stage version is very much about the performer, while the film more richly suggests the character's journey.
Hedwig is a transsexual German rocker fronting a band called the Angry Inch. She recounts her life story between songs and raunchy one-liners like, "I do so love a warm hand on my opening." The scandalous, hard-living lounge singer combines elements of David Bowie's glam Ziggy Stardust phase, Courtney Love pre-Versace and maybe a little of the Velvet Underground's Nico from her drug-addled solo tours.
She -- and I use the pronoun advisedly -- claims to have written the hits of teen idol Tommy Gnosis, who's playing to a packed Philips Arena while Hedwig serenades barflies at a country-western hole-in-the-wall called Dwayne's Range. The play makes a running joke of Hedwig opening the bar's back door and hearing Tommy's amplified voice. "Tommy, can you hear me?" she calls out in one of the show's many rock references.
In a combination of monologue and musical, Hedwig explains how she,
an East German boy named Hansel, became a celebrity stalker of uncertain
gender. The country ballad "Sugar Daddy" pays homage to Luther, the U.S.
serviceman who
offered to wed Hansel and whisk him to the States -- if he gets a sex
change operation. The thrashing rave-up "Angry Inch" describes how the
botched surgery left him/her with a "one-inch mound of flesh." And "Wig
in a Box" takes the cliche of the transformative power of drag and makes
a universal statement about personal reinvention. Unlike most rock-influenced
musicals, Trask's songs have catchy hooks and witty rhymes that make them
stand on their own.
The play could show the other people in Hedwig's life, but Salyer speaks for them, marvelously drawing out Luther's low, lusty voice and Tommy's nervous naivete as a Midwestern army brat. Still, the material feels narrow without seeing the other characters in the flesh.
Hedwig's main on-stage relationship is with her current lover, a man named Yitzhak, who, in a further tweak of sex roles, is cast by a woman. Angela Motter shows off pumped-up biceps conspicuously bigger than Salyer's, but she only gets a few words of dialogue, making her mostly a physical presence. Motter's best moment comes after she locks Hedwig outside the bar, then trudges back to the door, like a kid dreading a punishment, to let the singer back in.
The play's emotional weight rests on Salyer's shoulders -- and he carries
it with ease. He's best in poignant moments,
conveying the pain of romantic separation in "The Origin of Love,"
or when he vulnerably says of Hedwig's ruined sexuality,
"It's what I have to work with." Though not a graceful dancer, Salyer
demonstrates a punk's passion for pogo-ing and Mick Jagger moves in the
faster songs. And he struts across the bar for "Sugar Daddy."
Speaking of which, Actor's Express itself dons drag for the show, with Kat Conley's set dude-ing up the theater's interior as a perfect replica of a country-western bar, down to the black velvet Elvis painting. The production includes continuous bar service, which proves a double-edge cocktail sword. Though it has the vibe of authenticity, it leads to such distractions as audience members taking bathroom breaks and the sound of bottle caps bouncing off the floor.
Director Randee Trabitz provides inconsistent stage effects. A video
projector throws a haunting video image on a sheet
draped over Hedwig's arms for "Dirty Little Town." But "The Origin
of Love's" shadow puppets, rendered on a high school-style overheard projector,
look pretty crappy.
The play has fun with rock gestures, especially when Hedwig emerges
in a jacket festooned with 45s. Comprised of Marc
Cram, Andrew Davis, Chad Yarborough, Jim Johnson and Katy Carkuff (as
the waitress/groupie/keyboard player), the Angry Inch's musicianship could
be tighter, but the band crunches and wails with conviction.
With Hedwig, Mitchell and Trask hit upon a character with unexpected dimensions. Hedwig embodies a variety of roles: abandoned woman, abused muse, celebrity stalker, showbiz bottom feeder, post-communist immigrant, gender pioneer, high priestess of rock 'n' roll. She even compares herself to the Berlin Wall in "Tear Me Down" -- and the Actor's Express show proves that symbols stick to her like glorious graffiti.
curt.holman@creativeloafing.com
Copyright © 1996-2003 Creative Loafing Inc.
All rights reserved.
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MOTTER BRINGS 'PLEASURE AND PAIN' TO TN |
| Southern Voice
Mid South Edition Thursday, 5 April 2001 GLAMA award-winning singer and guitarist Angela Motter takes her advocacy to MTSU by Keely Brown
There are different ways for a performer, constantly in the public eye, to come out. All these ways take courage. Singer, guitarist and songwriter Angela Motter has come out twice-the first time as a young, openly lesbian performer. But now, at age 40, Motter has decided for the first time to speak to the media about her life-long struggle with clinical depression. "It' s a miracle that I'm still performing in the first place," laughs Motter. "And even though people in Atlanta have seen me perform since I was 19, now I'm the poster child for late bloomers. "This is the first I've talked about it," she adds. "I'm feeling good now. My last major bout was at the end of 1999." Motter, who has won Gay & Lesbian American Music Award, has spent her career making the spotlight part of her personal, musical mission. Her work with gay organizations, and particularly gay youth, has been a major part of her life as a performer. But her fans never knew she was struggling with overwhelming fatigue and illness. "I had to use my spirit because sometimes there was nothing
else there," she recalls.
"I created my last CD, 'Pleasure and Pain,' in the throes of this depression," she recalls. "I'd work really hard, then I'd have to pull the covers over my head and go to bed for a few days. One minute you're okay, the next you're slammed. It took four years to finish. That's too long for any artist to be pregnant. You don't want to carry the baby that long. "In the last two years since the CD came out I've finally been living depression-free instead of with depression. It's a whole new world. My peers were out there touring and I couldn't-I would have come back with my tail between my legs. I spent years on my recovery and getting medications right." Motter grew up in Marietta, Ga., and often has to field questions about why she has never moved to the performer's mecca-New York. "I ask myself that often, because I really love that city,"
she says. "The only answer, really, is that I travel a lot. And my family-my
sister-is here. Besides, I have this thing about oak trees. I spent most
of my childhood on a horse or hanging out in the woods."
|
With the recent improvement in her health, Motter is
hitting the road again. Her next concert takes place in Murfreesboro, Tenn.
"I'm pleased that they invited me back to play," she says. "I went up there with Doria Roberts and others from Atlanta and we did a Rock the Vote up there. "It's a God thing, that these gigs are falling on me now when I'm finally able to do them again," she adds. "I'm making a living at music, performing and also teaching some wonderful guitar students that I adore. So, I'm a happy camper." Motter describes herself as "a goofball with a nutty sense of humor, even though I sing about serious things." She also speaks about serious matters at college campuses while on tour. "I represent what a masculine-looking female looks like, so I speak about gender variants, transgender issues. The idea is, it's okay to be who you are. You can be proud," she says. This confidence in herself has been part of the recovery
process.
One thing Motter wants to share with her fans is her overwhelming sense of gratitude for being alive and on her feet. "How do you write about the preciousness of life-of how wonderful it is to be alive?" she asks. "If I hadn't had depression I might have been an egomaniac asshole. I'm not saying that this was anything but a gift. I don't feel wronged or inflicted." As a gay performer, Motter has been a role model throughout her career, using her songwriting skills to address social and personal issues. "Being openly gay has never held me back," she insists. "It's all in the spirit of how I present myself. I just assume that people will accept me. And I've always been outside the commercial music business so it's never been an issue for me. "Besides," she adds with a laugh, "I get to wear leather pants and talk about gender bending. It's a damn fun way to make a living." In addition to working on her new CD, Motter plans to
do more touring, while keeping Atlanta as a home base. "I can't see myself
leaving Atlanta at this point, but never say never," she observes. "This
is my home. I can get anywhere from here."
"I want to help de-stigmatize mental illness in our country, doing my advocacy onstage," she says. "It's all about having the courage to be who you are. That is making it."
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Decoding Gender Mapping out butch, femme, and all points in between |
| by Lisa Neff
staff writer June 2000 "Think of me as electricity," Dottie Arnold says in a refined Southern voice. "Think of my butch as an atomic blast. We're energies, not identities." For 42 years, Arnold and Casel have shared their lives in genteel Richmond, Virginia. Their partnership is a traditional butch-femme relationship. It began in 1958, when such relationships were fashionable, even mandatory, in the lesbian community. The partnership has thrived for four decades. It survived in secret in the late 1950's. It survived the 1970's when Lesbian Nation decreed that butch-femme relationships were politically incorrect, as well as damaging to the gay liberation and feminist movements. Despite claims of a recent butch/femme renaissance, Arnold, 68, says she still feels ostracized from the lesbian community. "I feel like a bastard at a family wedding," she says, "Jane and I, we keep mostly to ourselves, socializing with a small group we've known for ages." The group, Arnold says, consists of mostly butch/femme couples of her generation. Several times a year the women meet at the old brick home Arnold and Casel share to retell stories and look at old photographs. There is one photograph-a picture of six butch-femme couples dressed formally for a dance-that sometimes brings Arnold to tears. "We were so young," she says. "And all so beautiful in our own ways. It's very hard to lose your youth." In recent photographs, Arnold and Casel resemble each other-they're both just over 5 feet tall with short gray hair, creased brows and smile lines circling their mouths. But in manner and dress, they are almost opposites. Arnold is slender and straight-backed, wearing pumps and silky dresses. Casel, stocky with shoulders hunched, wears starched white dress shirts and tailored pants-occasionally a tie. "She spends two minutes getting dressed in the morning," Arnold says of Casel. "I spend more time on myself." I am femme, a Marge," Arnold continues. "That doesn't mean I cry if I break a nail. It doesn't mean I'm a big-haired bimbo. It doesn't mean I'm a heterosexual. It doesn't mean I can't find the gas tank on my Cadillac or unclog a shower drain. It means I am a feminine woman. I like satin and silk and lace and strong arms around my waist." Arnold grew up in a stately home in Albermarle County, Va., and admits to a pampered childhood. "Even the air-with the Columbine and lavender-was fragrant." she says. She watched two sisters marry wealthy man and settle into other stately homes in Albermarle. "I was envious of their securities and their luxuries, but not their choices in husbands. I wanted a woman." Arnold met Casel at a party in Richmond in 1958. "She was so gentlemanly, but a bit rough around the collar," Arnold recalls. "She reminded me of Clark Gable. She even had big ears." Casel remembers Arnold: "In a green gown-very fashionable then. I was 28 and she was just the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Still is." Arnold relishes the flattery. "She knows it gets her everywhere," she says, "I love a good compliment." |
DIESEL AND DUST
Most weeknights, Joe Zoline walks into a lesbian bar in Denver and scopes out the prettiest girl in the place. She tips her hat, tells the woman she's the prettiest girl in the bar and then extends an invitation to dance. No one can accuse me of not knowing how to treat a girl," Zoline says. A 27-year old mechanic and occasional mover, Zoline says she learned to be a good butch from older dykes in the local lesbian bar and male heroes in the movies. "It's me," she says. "I was a tomboy before I was a butch. But we got all our heroes. The biggest butch in all Colorado is Badger. All us baby butches, we're in awe of her. She's a real diesel dyke." Badger was born Barbara Cartland in 1944. She shortened the name to Barb years ago and welcomed the nickname she earned working in copper mines in Southwestern Montana. I got nicknamed Badger because I was always pestering the guys on my crew to get to work," Cartland recalls. "They didn't mean it bad. It was all friendly." Cartland stormed into Zoline's life three years ago. "She's my mentor," Zoline says. "She taught me how to not let things get me down, how to take care of myself. If you can't take care of yourself, how're you going to take care if your girl? She told me I've got to be strong and know who I am and be who I am. I am a butch." THE ANDROGYNOUS ZONE "Shoot, I guess I sort of define myself by what I'm not," says Leah Clifford, 32, a convenience store manager in Bellefontaine Neighbors, Mo., a blue-collar suburb of St. Louis. Just as Clifford's hometown lies on the shore of the Mississippi River and is neither East nor the West, Clifford feels she's neither butch nor femme. She says she's androgynous. "I don't know quite how I fit in. I know I'm not femme, but I'm not butch either. Sometimes I feel like I'm not all me yet," Clifford says, "Like I haven't completely formed yet." Musician Angela Motter understands Clifford's confusion. Motter describes herself as a "Southern butch with transgender/gender variant leanings." As a butch, Motter knows the anxiety of running the restroom gauntlet. She knows the pressure of passing as a man in potentially dangerous situations. And she knows the humiliation and fury of being denied entrance to women-only events. "I am a person who gets mistaken for a guy even among lesbians," says Motter, a 39-year old Atlanta musician ready to return to the studio to follow up her critically acclaimed "Pleasure and Pain" CD. Coming out as a lesbian in the late 70's, Motter adopted the androgyny standard. On stage in the 1980's, she masked herself in make-up. "I was a pretty girl, but I always felt like I was in drag," she recalls. "I didn't know who I was. I'm so comfortable with the way I present now... I'm a late bloomer." Today Motter presents herself as a "masculine female" in black T-shirts, boots and packed jeans spitting aggressive, angry lyrics. She also presents herself as a tender butch dyke who likes to open doors for her girlfriend. "I like to do the gentleman thing," Motter says. Some 500 miles away, in a red two-story Colonial in Richmond, Arnold finds comfort in Motter's statement. "Chivalry," she says, "will live on." |
April:
Angela Motter releases Pleasure
and Pain, one of the best singer/songwriter albums from an Atlanta
artist this year.
Pleasure and Pain (Hey MISTER!) by Angela Motter, who is yet another GLAMA nominee, is one of the best albums of the year, independently released or otherwise. There's not a mis-step on this disc of original and intelligent pop songs. From the opening title track to the timely "isitaboyisitagirl" to "Cake" to "My Mama Told Me" to "Imprint," Motter gets politically and emotionally active without ever sacrificing her singer/songwriter chops.
Southern Voice - 22 APR 99,
Time Out by Laura Brown
Pleasure and Pain
Chronogram
Serving the Hudson River Valley, NY
October 2001
CD Reviews by Todd Paul
Angela Motter:
Pleasure and Pain
(Hey MISTER! Records, 1999)
You'll love Angela Motter. A leather-jacketed, muscle
chick with Brylcreme looks, she plays queer funk with extreme musicality
born of her classical guitar training and a life spent immersed in jazz,
blues, folk, and pop. She's opened for B.B. King, shared the stage with
Indigo Girls, and won a 1999 Gay and Lesbian American Music Award. According
to her Web site, www.angelamotter.com, she spent more than $23,000 recording
Pleasure
and Pain. If so, she got what she paid for-a professionally, lushly
recorded collection of original songs ranging in tone and texture from
Delta Blues to alt-pop. Motter will play the West Strand Grill in Kingston
on October 10, along with Jamie Anderson.
| ANGELA
MOTTER,
LESBIAN TEEN BEAT PIN-UP FOR THE 90’S |
| Following is a piece which was never
published that Jinny Hawkins wrote in late 1998 as I was preparing
to release Pleasure and Pain. Jinny is perhaps best known
for early 90’s coverage of the the Atlanta singer/songwriter scene in the
‘zine published by Jennifer Eberlein called Acoustics.
Acoustics kept us up to date with hometown heros such as Shawn Mullins, Michelle Malone, Joyce and Jacque, Kristen Hall, Don Conoscenti, Caroline Aiken, Billy Pilgrim, Natalie Farr, and, well you get the idea. I ran across the article after re-organizing one of my piles and thought y’all might enjoy it. I especially got a kick out of her little walk down memory lane. Jinny’s byline for Acoustics read: “Jinny Hawkins knows everything about everyone. When she’s not out getting the poop for Acoustics, she is Guru-in-Residence at Eat More Records.” |
| ANGELA MOTTER,
LESBIAN TEEN BEAT PIN-UP FOR THE 90’S HAIR OF THE DOG
I remember our first meeting. She was scheduled to play Sunday Brunch at the [Little Five Points] Pub. The locals were straggling in for a taste of hair of the dog from last nights rowdy show from Michelle Malone and her band incarnation Drag the River. Angela took the stage in a flower print sundress [I NEVER wore a sundress. It was a longish skirt. And I NEVER wore flower prints. They were pastel, mostly solid colors. I can't stand prints. -Angela] and proceeded to calm the nerves of the crowd with some impressive jazz guitar. I can't quite explain it, but in my bleary hung over stupor, the audio and the visual didn't quite mesh. Angela is tall, well-muscled and boyish. It was the same effect the first kd lang album cover had, the "what IS that", boy, girl, huh? She was the first in the Atlanta scene to openly declare her sexuality and use it in a positive way to reach her audience without apology. We all knew who we were, but at the time no one was going anywhere NEAR gay press or gay publicity for fear of being outed and losing possible major label record deals. |
I respected Angela for sending her gig list to Southern Voice and etcetera magazine. I was living with another singer/songwriter at the time and we would go around in circles about what was best for her career and how to handle an ever increasing pressure to come out. A few years later at Rhythmfest [a now defunct Southeast women's music festival] we ran into Angela again. This time she was set up in the s/m section of camp sporting massive leather gear. She was quite obviously in her element. I didn't yet understand the leather community and was even a bit apprehensive about going over to visit. But Angela made everyone feel welcome and not embarrassed to ask stupid questions.Years went by and we passed each other at various shows, parties, and places lesbians go to see and be seen. POSITIVELY GIDDY
|
MALE MODELING
Remember when you were in sixth grade and you had pin-ups of those adorable teeniebop idol boys on your wall? You actually dreamed of dating them, or what it would be like just to meet them. As they got older and grew facial hair or went bald, you realized that there was a reason everyone had always said they all looked like little girls and that was exactly why you liked them. Enter Angela Motter, Lesbian Teen Beat pin-up for the 90's. She'll never lose that girlish flair, cause, well um, she's a girl. Despite recent attempts to break into male modeling, Angela is the quintessential pin up girl, for girls. In the business of music, an artist having any kind of history can be the kiss of death. Major labels and publicists want the public to think that they were the only ones who ever saw the new artist perform in public, and that buying the CD now gets you on the "I knew them when" bandwagon. This is a bit hard to justify if the artist in question has had a very successful independent career and has even had her fan base donate the neccesary cash so that she could put out her own CD. So, without further ado, and at the risk of damaging her career as an overnight success, I present to you one of the standout performersin the over-hyped but not yet over-exploited category of singer/songwriter, Angela Motter. --Jinny Hawkins, copyright 1998
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Creative Loafing
June 12, 1993
by Jeff Clark
Razor Sharp
Angela Motter is one tough woman. And if you want proof, she could probably pick you up up and hurl you across the floor! Not that she would, of course, but recently the longtime Atlanta musician has been putting on some formidable muscle on those slide-guitar-stroking arms of hers. Is she trying out for the Olympics? No, just concentrating on getting in shape.
"I'm healthier now than I've ever been," she boasts. "I'm tryin', man!" I work out three or four days a week. It's fun. It's a hobby for me. I've been working out since I was 19. I used to dead-lift 250 pounds. From the floor up. And I can bench press 135 which is nothing compared to the really big women in my gym, but I'm proud of it. I can bench press my body weight, at least for a single repetition, and I weigh 145. I tell you, if I wasn't a musician, I'd wanna be a bodybuilder!"
Lucky for us, she decided to go into music, although it wasn't without a few distractions along the way. Now 32, Motter took up the guitar way back when she was ten, and she began writing immediately. "I swooned over Carole King," she says, citing an early influence. "That music just made me cry."
As a beginning performer, Angela says, "I cut my teeth in Marietta at the Granary, when I was too young to be there, like 17. That was in 1977, when Caroline Aiken was coming through and wowing us all!" Aiken's sultry singing and blues-influenced playing would later serve as a point of reference for Motter's own style, but she first she found herself sidetracked by college.
"I started out as an English major," she recalls, "and then for some reason I decided that that wasn't helping my songwriting career, so I ended up studying classical guitar, which really didn't help my songwriting either, but... I don't regret it. Because I really wasn't ready for the club scene and all that stuff anyway. I'm such a late bloomer. I was such a young 19 years old. It was just my upbringing."
Still, she says that "school screwed me up a little bit, 'cause it sorta upped the ante, and that's when I started studying that jazz shit, which really fucked me up, because it kinda got me to the point where I was afraid to play. Because it was that higher, faster, louder, harder routine. And I was not that kind of player."
Even so, upon graduation from Georgia State University in 1985, Angela put together a poppy, jazz-lite group featuring some of the more accomplished jazz and rock musicians in Atlanta, including guitarist Jimmy Herring and drummer Jeff Sipe (currently with the Aquarium Rescue Unit) and bassist Jerry Peek (previously with Steve Morse, later with [Atlanta's] Big Sky.) One of the groups songs, "Secret Lover," was released on he fourth "Jazz Flavours" local compilation CD's that the radio station 94Q (now Star 94) issued in the mid-1980's.
But that diversion was unexpectedly uprooted when she developed a node on her vocal chords ("from singing over that damn band!" she says), and had to stop singing for two years.
"And oh man, I went through some shit," she remembers. "When I got the node, I had to quit talking for 17 days, I couldn't say a word! (Then) I cut my finger at work, I had to have stitches, I couldn't play my guitar. And plus, some personal stuff with my family that really fucked me up. So I know what the blues is about now. I was out of the music scene for a year, and then it was a year recuperating. I had to sorta relearn how to sin. It scared me."
When she did reemerge onto the Atlanta music scene, it was with a new, acoustic-blues direction, partially inspired by a B.B.King concert that she had opened in 1989. "That concert just psyched me up so much that I got started on slide," she says."And then Chris Whitley came out, and he blew that top of my head off... What I'm doing now is more from the heart. I'm a real personal songwriter. And some of the jazz stuff was limiting me. And it was ending up that I couldn't really talk about the things that I needed to talk about."
Eight examples of her writing and playing talents can be found on Outta Control, a self-released cassette that she put out last November. With straightforward acoustic pop numbers like "Out of the Blue" and "Anytime" mixed with haunting, Delta-influenced songs like the title track, Robert Johnson's "Preachin' Blues", and the rapturous and yearning "Finely Tined Machine" (which received ample airplay on Album 88), the tape offers a good snapshot of the different styles that Motter seeks to merge, and showcases a songwriter of considerable strength, tenderness, and honesty.
Having sold upwards of 700 copies so far, Outta Control has sold mainly through sparse radio airplay, gigging, word-of-mouth, and reviews in the gay and lesbian press. Often found playing at Gay Pride celebrations or benefits, Motter finds that audience to be extremely loyal, although she says "I don't wanna get stuck there, though. It's like, Martina Navratilova said at the March on Washington, 'I didn't work my ass off to be the best damn tennis player in the world to be called 'That lesbian tennis player.' I mean, I do things for the community because they've supported me, and I enjoy that. The women's community is so embracing. But getting into the mainstream is like getting into the real world. They don't know who the fuck I am!"
In an effort to expand her toehold in the mainstream outside of Atlanta, Motter is planning a West Coast tour for the second half of July. "Not all of the dates are definite right now, but I'm confident that it'll work out. I'm really excited about this," she exclaims, adding that although she has played San Francisco once before, the other dates will be in brand new markets.
Motter says she's ready to start touring more, which may mean cutting back on the guitar lessons she teaches at the Atlanta Guitar Center in Buckhead. "That's my day job," she says. "I've been teaching on and off since I was about 19. Right now I have about 30 students that I teach one-on-one every week, and I'm maxed-out. I'm hoping that I'll eventually be able to phase it out so I can tour more. I can teach when I'm 50, ya know? And I love it. They break my heart, those students. I just have this compassion for anybody trying to learn that instrument."
Whether you're trying to learn guitar or not, you'll probably learn something about life from Angela's aching songs. A familiar name in Atlanta clubs for years, she's finally coming into her own. Check her out before she decides to switch to bodybuilding, OK?
|
-Angela
|
From the Outvoice Listserve. Some kind words from the ever-provocative Jim Fouratt:
"...if you haven't caught Angela Motter live, you haven't been touched by the sexy butchness of a tender gender bender who can stand right up there with Bonnie Rait and Ellen [McElwaine](help me here with the correct spelling please) as she rocks your world with a slide guitar and a heartfelt song narrative....
By the way: in my house, right
now, MOBY's new record has replaced Hole, Barnes, Sleater-Kenny, Mark Weigel,
and is running neck 'n' neck with Angela Motter for most played."
-
Jim Fouratt, free-lance writer and former President of Beauty Records,
former VP of A&R for Mercury Records.
Visit Outvoice at www.outvoice.com.
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