I was born in 1990, and began consuming media right at the peak of the pop craze. Everyone was part of a fandom and it was the norm for kids my age to cover their walls with brightly colored photos of their favorite musicians and celebrities. For many, the kings and queens enshrined on these vertical pre-teen altars consisted of artists like Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, The Backstreet Boys, and N’Sync. The edgier crowd idolized rock and hip hop artists like TLC, Kid Rock, Wu-Tang, Limp Bizkit and Korn.
But for me, a shy, bookish horse girl who lived between Washington state and rural Sweden, only one supergroup existed:
The band formerly known as The Dixie Chicks.
I remember first hearing their 1997 hit single “Wide Open Spaces” blasting on the country radio at the Woodinville, WA horse farm where I took lessons. But my life changed forever on a fateful night in the year 2000 when I saw their faces on CMT, stopped flicking through channels, and felt my eyes widen and my hair stand on end as Martie Maguire’s fiddle cut through the air like a knife, and Natalie Maines opened her mouth to sweetly croon words I will never forget:
“I wanna touch the earth
I wanna break it in my hands
I wanna grow something wild and unruly
I wanna sleep on the hard ground
In the comfort of your arms
On a pillow of bluebonnets
And a blanket made of stars
Oh, it sounds good to me
Cowboy, take me away
Fly this girl as high as you can
Into the wild blue
Set me free
Oh, I pray
Closer to heaven above
And closer to you”
The song, and the feeling behind it, encapsulated so well what I was going through at the time. Living in a difficult home situation, being in a city I hated, going to schools and churches I hated, being bullied and having few friends…. wanting to spread my wings and break free. The late 90’s were a time when everything felt possible, when the world felt like a friendlier and more carefree place. It made me believe that someday, a handsome cowboy would sweep me off my feet and take me far away from the life I knew.
(That was long before I learned that most cowboys are idiots and a girl can really only save herself. But that’s a story for another time.)
I digress, but the point I’m getting to is this:
Last Saturday night, when after a two-decade absence, the trio consisting of Emily Strayer, Martie Maguire, and Natalie Maines took the stage at the Gorge Amphitheater….
A long-forgotten piece of that little girl’s heart was healed.
It’s been 22 years since I first saw the music video for “Cowboy, Take Me Away”, but I never imagined then how different the world would become in just a few short months. Almost exactly a year after that night, 9/11 happened, and the sky became a limit I no longer wanted to test. The world became less friendly, less free, and the country and music I loved became bitterly divided. When Natalie Maines spoke out against then-President George W. Bush’s invasion of Iraq, the group received so many death threats to themselves and their families, that they had to stop touring in the United States indefinitely- even following the success of the song that won them the 2007 Grammy for Song of the Year: “Not Ready to Make Nice”.
I had just turned 16 when The Chicks released “Not Ready to make Nice” off their 2006 album “Taking the Long Way”, and my friends and I strongly related to the feminist and anti-bullying message of the song. By then I had begun playing open mics and small shows at local coffee shops, and knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life singing and writing. At 19, I was finally able to move out of my parents’ house and into my own apartment. I was attending college an hour away in Olympia and supporting myself as a freelance model, and barely had any money to eat or pay rent, let alone shell out for internet service or pricey albums off iTunes (this was long before the days of online streaming services). I would go to my local public library and borrow CD’s- among them were the Chicks’ first two major label albums, “Wide Open Spaces” and “Fly”. A burned mix containing hits like “Ready to Run” and “There’s Your Trouble” lived in the CD player of my Nissan Sentra for years. My love for country music only grew as the years went by, and I began a small career of my own. But I credit these three women with that first spark of joy, that first idea that, through the power of music, anything was possible.
Since the success of “Not Ready to Make Nice”, they have become reluctant-yet-effective political icons, using their quick wit, poignant prose and widespread (dare I say bipartisan?) appeal to bring awareness to hot-button issues such as domestic abuse, reproductive rights, and gun control. In the year 2020, after rebranding as The Chicks, the band released their long-anticipated comeback album “Gaslighter”, following the divorce saga of lead singer Maines. However, the global Covid-19 pandemic postponed the accompanying tour until this summer.
So when I heard they were playing the Gorge this August, I called up my best friend Caitlin in Seattle and said three words:
“BITCH, WE’RE GOING”
The Gorge itself is a magical place. Located on the banks of the Columbia river in the desert of Eastern Washington, it boasts a huge stage, a seating and lawn area accommodating tens of thousands of people, fully equipped overnight camping, and a picturesque backdrop of red volcanic cliffs and the northeastern Cascade Mountains in the distance. In terms of most beautiful music venues in the United States, it is only rivaled perhaps by Red Rocks in Colorado, and The Caverns in Tennessee.
It is a particularly important place to me because my extended family resides in the town of Moses Lake, just 20 miles from the Gorge. After all those years of traveling to and fro, I know the road there like the back of my hand. When we lost cell phone service, my friend nervously laughed and asked if I was worried we would get lost. I jokingly replied, “It’s Eastern Washington! I can’t get lost here!”
I laughed, but realized it’s true. There aren’t many towns out there. There aren’t many roads through those towns, and there aren’t many roads in between them.
I’ve been down them all.
Even without the looming anticipation of seeing my all-time favorite band, this was an especially important trip to the Gorge. It was my best friend’s first time there- and probably my last for many years.
This is the last time I’ll see Eastern Washington before I move to San Diego.
After a HIGHLY questionable lunch at a Sonic drive-thru, we made it to the venue around 6pm and pitched camp, made friends with a pair of girls parked next to us, and got ready to head to the venue grounds together. Walking there, we made a few key observations:
1.) 95% of the audience was female
2.) 3% of the audience was nonbinary
And the other 2% were men who, in all probability, were only there to accompany their wives or girlfriends because they were stupid enough to think their women would be hit on….
AT A CHICKS CONCERT?!?!
What morons!
Again, I digress.
We got to the amphitheater and found a spot on the lawn while Patty Griffin (another artist I’ve loved for years) finished her set. There was about an hour in between and then the visuals started flashing. The crowd began buzzing. Finally, the famous “Daisy” video (a PSA about nuclear war) began playing and as the clock counted down to one, suddenly, like a vision….
There they were.
Tears rolled down my face as the band started into “Sin Wagon”. Like a demon, I shook and screamed, letting out all the hurt, anger and confusion I remember feeling when I was young. My inner child felt seen- for probably for the first time in many, many years. We danced and danced and danced.
And then…. something incredible happened.
As the band leaned into a bluegrass version of “Cowboy, Take Me Away”, I threw my head back to look at the night sky, and suddenly a shooting star catapulted across it. And then another. And another.
Little did I know, we happened to be in the perfect time and place to witness the Perseid Meteor Shower. The sky lit up with shooting stars all night long, and being a witch, I knew it to be a sign that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. It was the universe telling me it was all right. That I was safe and it was okay to let go.
The band paid tribute to Olivia Newton John, who had died just two days before, with a heart-rending cover of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”, and to the great Stevie Nicks with their infamous cover of “Landslide”. Caitlin and I clutched hands tightly as we sang along to the familiar lyrics that suddenly took on new meaning: “children get older, and I’m getting older too”
There was not a dry eye in the house as the band revealed that their new guitarist and bass player were none other than Maines’ son Slaid, and Maguire’s daughter, Eva. They alluded that more of their kids would be joining the band in the future, and for some reason that made my heart swell with joy.
The Chicks ended their set with “Not Ready to Make Nice” and an emotional encore of “Traveling Soldier”, a hit song they hadn’t played live in many years. Finally, Natalie Maines giggled slightly as she said to the crowd, “Well, it seems like we just have one more piece of business to take care of…”
And as the band started into their final encore of “Goodbye Earl”, the crowd. Went. WILD.
Even having played in metal, punk and hardcore bands, what happened in that moment is a spectacle I will never forget. The Gorge turned into a deranged mosh pit of 40,000 pissed off moms, screaming like banshees and zealously throwing limbs around as though it were Limp Bizkit onstage. I realized it wasn’t just me who needed this release. It was all the women around me who had felt unseen, unheard, unappreciated, unimportant. In that moment, we were all teenagers again.
As women, we are so accustomed to making ourselves smaller.
Making ourselves less loud, less powerful, less talented, less opinionated.
The Chicks are my favorite band- not only because they have the voices of angels and can shred their instruments better than any man alive- but because throughout their careers, they have said a resounding “fuck you” to anyone telling them to just shut up and sing.
For 20 years, they have stood their ground and waited for their moment to rise from the ashes like the beautiful, magical, 3-headed phoenix they are.
I am so grateful to have witnessed that moment in person.
And from the stars shooting across the night sky, to the ones shining brightly onstage after a long, dark absence:
I will hold that night in my heart forever.
Norse Western 