In March 2007, we sought out Gaye Adegbalola, Annieville Blues, Eleanor Ellis, Andra Faye, Judy LaPrade, Annie Raines, Del Rey, and Lauren Sheehan for a conversation about their lives as blueswomen.
Centrum: As professional blues musicians, what are the challenges and opportunities for you as a woman in what is often seen as a male-dominated field?
Del Rey: What field isn’t “male-dominated” (other than kindergarden teacher and other under-paid professions)? I see few arenas where women shape the paradigm, and while the highest compliment in the old days was “she plays like a man,” I suspect this is still a compliment in many listeners’ minds, but they know better than to say it! Although I frequently do hear “You’re the best woman guitar player I’ve ever heard.” To which my reply is, “Exactly which man can play better than me?” I feel that my challanges are those of any artist whose media outlets are dominated by corporations which market to an eighteen-to-twenty-five-year old male demographic: those outlets will never play the music of an independent middle-aged artist—male or female. My challenge is to stay content playing small gigs and doing things DIY while not growing bitter when young cute people who can’t play get giant marketing pushes. The good thing is that there is a devoted and knowlegeable audience for my music all over the world, from Paris to Sydney. Exactly thirty-five of them in each town.
Gaye Adegbalola: [All-female band] Saffire has been together for almost twenty-five years. Initially we were like some novelty act because we were women. Then the media slant became “old women.” Then “old raunchy women.” Then “old raunchy culturally-diverse women.” Finally, one day, someone said, “oh, and they play good music too.” I don’t think this would have ever happened to men. Our 
worth was lessened and downplayed, not by the fans, not by other musicians, but by the media. Ultimately, it really helped us get out there. People came out in droves to see this novelty act. But one has to be good to have staying power and we stayed.
The classic blues created by women of the nineteen-twenties was the first commercially viable music ever—the first of any kind of music created by anyone. Those women built the music industry. Today, they are almost written out of history. Even in the Scorsese The Blues series—fourteen hours of blues—not fourteen minutes are about those women. I think even the so-called blues “purists” try to write them out of history. As a woman and as a black woman, it is my challenge to keep this music alive.
For me, I see it as a real opportunity to write from my perspective—as an older, black woman who has been around the block a few times. It’s an opportunity to express unique stories in a universal way.
Lauren Sheehan: I find that many people are curious to see if a woman “can hold her own.” When a woman has a reputation for being able to do so, there is a tendency for audiences to rally behind her. After that, it seems to me that musicality and giving a good show is what really matters over time.
Annie Raines: Some people find me less threatening as a competitor, while some people are more intimidated, so it comes out about even. The great musicians I love never played up that angle, so I don’t either. I would have trouble marketing myself that way and being sincere in my performances. Music doesn’t judge you by your gender or the color of your hair or skin; it helps you realize that the truth is much bigger than those things. I think the field has opened up dramatically since I started playing. On the positive side, peoples’ attitudes have changed and women are widely accepted as instrumentalists in the blues world. On the negative side, the job doesn't pay what it used to, so maybe the kind of men who used to dominate the middle of the field aren’t motivated to compete for the top jobs.
Eleanor Ellis: To quote my friend Pearl—“Who says it’s a male-dominated field?”
Sometimes it’s hard to separate the personal from the general. Which things are the result of being a woman? A woman playing music at a particular time in history? A consequence of just being me? Some of my greatest challenges have probably come from myself. But not all of them.
As of now I really can’t complain, but I did encounter some situations when I was first starting out. Women have always been accepted as vocalists, but in the nineteen-seventies there weren’t nearly as many of us playing instruments as there are now and it was harder to be taken seriously. My first band experience was with a bluegrass group, and I was asked to join because of my singing. They stuck a funky old upright bass in my hands, put some white tape on the neck to indicate where the frets would be, and gave me a week or so to learn how to play it. It had a beautiful sound. It also had a hole in the side about the size of an old-time silver dollar, which I covered up with a piece of black tape.
I could play guitar, but they had a guitar player and the leader of the band never wanted me to play guitar, not even when the regular guy wasn’t there. Maybe I never got to play guitar because I was such a good bass player, but I don’t think that was the reason. I think he was afraid I’d mess up. So I got to be in a band and sing and play some bass, but I wasn’t given the chance to play guitar. Which I could have done, and did do in other situations.
But—it was my first band! I was in a band and we got to be on local TV and play a few festivals and had a regular Sunday afternoon gig at The Maple Leaf. So we all dressed alike, so what? I left off the black bow-tie as my little sign of protest, and had a great time. It was a challenge, but it was also an opportunity.
And there are definitely advantages to being a woman in a male dominated field.
Sometimes it’s really good to be different In the early days, when I played with street bands the more women we had in the band the better we did. We got more attention which, unless it’s cops telling you to move on, is always a good thing and usually translates to money.
I guess it’s important to take advantage of what comes your way, whether it’s a challenge or an opportunity or a little bit of both. Or to try to make an opportunity out of a challenge. I wonder if things are different for women musicians who are starting out now? It will be interesting to see what other women have to say about it.
Annieville Blues: What I’ve learned is that you have to make your own way as a woman. I’ve always made my own territory. In Seattle, they plain hadn’t had a woman start blues jams, so I did it, in 1996—I started the first kids blues jam on the west coast. The kids worked with mentors in the blues world and did onstage jams. It was a wild success; after five and a half years I’m the one that left! That’s what women need to do in the blues, start your own thing. That’s the beauty of a woman in blues. Guys tend to stay in their own compartments.
The women keep the women up. Although male musicians can be supportive, we can’t depend on it. Often I find the women educate and inspire the men in this music business. Women have come a long way and it should not matter whether you’re male or female but are you a good artist, period.
Andra Faye: I think we have a wonderful opportunity to shine at what we do, because there aren’t as many women. Sometimes we might get attention just because we are women, sometimes, that we 
might not get as men, but you have to be able to back that up with being pretty darn good! It’s a challenge to be taken seriously, not as often now, but still once in a while. Saffire occasionally will still get asked, “Where’s the band?”
Cheick Hamala Diabaté is recognized as one of the world's masters of the ngoni, a traditional Malian instrument. A much sought-after performer, lecturer, storyteller, and choreographer throughout Africa, Europe, Asia, and North America, Cheick Hamala is a steward of the 800-year-old tradition of the Griot (the storytellers of West Africa).
