The music that spreads our culture is man's music that exalts the power of the cock. Maybe that in itself doesn't have to oppress women, but it does.
Women usually sing about pain, men usually about the power of their pricks. Women are asked to rock it, shake it (but not break it), bend it, squeeze it, and chew it. Women's role in rock is to be busy lighting Jim Morrison's "fire" or down by the river touching Leonard Cohen's mind with their perfect bodies. It's made to sound easy-- be passive and collect your reward.
"Lay, lady, lay
Lay across my big brass bed. " : (Dylan)
Those of us who succumb to the temptation of trying to be "livin lovin maids" find out we're really "homebreakers," "man's temptation," "devil women," "evil women" and "black magic" women, despised and discarded.
"I don't want you to be high
Don't want to tell you a lie
Just don't want you around. . .
Please don't you bother my wife. . .
You're rather common and coarse anyway. . .
Don't want you out in my world
Just you be my backstreet girl" (Stones)
Women who try to break out of the wife-or-whore trap don't fare too well in rock. "Stone Free" (Jimi Hendrix) has the world locked up in her plastic box. The riff is that if you don't love them or at least need their cocks, then you're plastic. Of course, if you do feel, then back to being an old lady or whore.
No one is worse off than the woman who tried to be independent.
"Under my thumb There's a girl who put me down. . .
There's a girl who pushed me around
Under my thumb
There's a squirming dog who's just had her day. . .
There's a girl who just changed her ways. . .
The way she talks when she's spoken to
The change has come
She's under my thumb" (Stones)
Janis Joplin was another prototype for the woman in rock. Most of all she was a prisoner:
"Why is love like a ball and chain?
There's a certain kind of light
That's never shone on me. . .
They ain't gonna love you any better babe
They ain't never gonna love you right
So you better dig it now, right now."
You can be a whore, a no-nothing-say-nothing saint, or a plastic woman, but you have to be a victim for the penis gun. Remember "I am the Hunter" (Albert King), shooting all the pretty women down? And "Midnight Rambler"?
There is no room for women in the world of rock, or in the world talked about in rock. . .