So, instead of waxing philosophical about the process, or the journey (I’ll save that for later), instead I’ll write about the amazing manes that exists in the music industry: the hair I admire; the hair I covet.
About a year and a half ago, a few months after enduring a challenging, life-changing experience, which was the genesis of MIDWEST’s upcoming EP, I started to notice clumps of really short hair around the crown of my head. I’d been doing a little bit of “self-medicating” with whiskey…so, I thought, maybe I’d had a drunken hirsute accident, unbeknownst to me. Turns out, I’d actually been using a curling iron that was set at too hot a setting, which had been slowly singeing off strand after strand of hair. Not as dramatic as this, but the finished effect was identical.
This wouldn’t be the first time I’d had an erratic trim. (I’ve attempted self bang trim; once around 12, then again a few years ago. I shouldn’t be allowed to own scissors.) However, these newest short strands started to behave oddly; they were incredibly, insanely curly. Turns out stress can cause drastic shifts in the texture of hair by changing the shape of the hair follicle. Who knew.
I’d always had wavy hair, but never curly. Never kinky. Never frizzy. Until now. It was puzzling because the majority of the rest of my hair still maintained the soft wave I’d grown accustomed to styling. Fast forward to now, a year and a half later, and my hair is a wonderful, wonky out-of-control mess of curls with a serious mind of its own. I tried for awhile to straighten and then soft-curl my hair for shows, but playing like it’s the last show I’ll ever play makes me sweat like beast. The moisture turns the hair near my scalp so curly that it looks like I have a bunch of misshapen squirrels living underneath an ill-fitting wig.
So, now, instead of constantly trying to tame them locks, I look to my favorite musicians to inspire me to let my hair do its thing: to let my mane be the beast it is; to let it sing its wild song.
Here are just a few ladies (and a gent) that provide solidarity for rocking an unleashed coif:
Not only has she dyed it to look awesomely ghostly, but she’s teased it up into a state of pure curl-monster glory. Eye heart hrrr.
Both of them. Look at ‘em locks! Gorgeous, uncontrolled curls. Victoria in concert is all growling voice and massive wavy and curly mane.
Cary Ann Hearst of Shovels & Rope (circa 2012)
Lady embraces the wonk of curly hair like no other. She owns it. She sells it. She means it. She don’t give a damn, and, damn, is it sexy.
These ladies continue to be an inspiration to me, on and off the stage.