Bikini Kill reveries
I was the world’s biggest Bikini Kill fan as a freshman in high school, circa 1994. I also wanted to be a drummer SO SO bad, saved up money for a used set but couldn’t afford those damned cymbals. I would sit in my room, banging along to Toby’s sick beats on my text books with drum sticks, DIY style. I wrote her a total fangirl letter telling her of my plight as a wannabe chick drummer in a conservative Midwestern town and how I admired her and wanted to someday be as rocking. She sent back a handwritten letter full of encouragement, and it’s been one of my most prized possessions ever since. Bikini Kill was the soundtrack of my adolescence, and it still supplies the backbeat of my life.