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By Charlotte Cooper
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`Godspeed`
is the first novel by Lynn Breedlove. No idea who she is? Only one of
the most significant dyke musicians alive today. Forget Melissa Etheridge
or kd lang or even Avril Lavigne, Breedlove could kick their arses any
day as lead singer and general hellraiser with Tribe 8, the first and
best punk dyke band in history. If Tribe 8 are the Sex Pistols, then
Breedlove is easily the lesbo equivalent of a sneering Johnny Rotten
at his `God Save the Queen` best. With a pedigree like that you`d expect
her first book to be a cracker. Luckily it is.
`Godspeed` is the rambling story of Jim, an occasional bike messenger
boi-dyke in San Francisco, who has a lust for speed, the chemical kind.
Throughout the novel Jim gets addicted to whizz, deals, kicks, starts
using again, and so on. It`s not your average drug redemption story,
but it`s obviously based on Breedlove`s own experiences as an addict
in past years, and that`s what makes it compelling and real. Jim goes
on the road as a hired hand with a band that`s not a million miles away
from Tribe 8 and finds some kind of peace with himself. There`s a love
story intertwined in it as well, but naturally it`s unconventional and
of course there`s no fairy-tale ending.
Breedlove energises what could be a hackneyed story with spot-on character
portraits of people around her scene, including the bike messenger users
who hang around a vacant lot, and Ally, the love of Jim`s life. From
her list of acknowledgements, and the lyrics to her Hag Anthem, the
prose in `Godspeed` is so power-charged that reading it makes you feel
as though you`ve been mainlining crystal meth too!
Like `Valencia,` written by fellow Sister Spit performer Michelle Tea,
`Godspeed` is a snapshot of a crazy time and place. It`s hard to believe
that Breedlove survived those times, but any reader of this book would
be glad that she did, and that she lived to tell the tale about it too.
SF
Bay Times
Volume 23--Number 15--April 18, 2002
Lynne
Breedlove Does It All --by
Don Baird
You know,
it really thrills me when locally known or identified talents suddenly
hit upon new levels of achievement or notoriety, a convergence of details
all in their favor or the creation of their finest work to date, hitting
their full artistic stride or the top of their game, entering a realm
that will likely insure them some of the exposure they so richly
deserve. There have been a couple of shining examples of this recently
and it would be a sin to not faithfully sing their praises here in the
pages of Beat This.
The first is Lynn Breedlove, upon the publication of her first novel
entitled Godspeed. Lynn, best known as the full-on, balls-to-the-wall
vocalist for the punk dyke metal band Tribe 8 whose very existence has
pushed issues of expression and equality and sexuality into places and
faces as diverse and unsuspecting as the male dominant punk rock scene
and the separatist and initially perplexed Michigan women's music festival
for a decade now. There was really nothing like seeing Lynn onstage
skank dancing in a circular motion, shirtless with a strap on dildo
sticking out of her pants, which at times she'd eventually saw off with
a chainsaw or dull knife or force a guy in the audience to go down on,
but the simple fact that she did these things not just here in SF but
all across the states in places where people weren't so tolerant of
anarchist feminist political vaudeville, or mock genital mutilation,
or genitals for that matter. Wherever Tribe 8 went, they blazed the
trail for so many other women of the underground, lesbians that even
most lesbians were afraid of, the marginalized subculture of extreme
butches to FTM's, mod prims, green-haired punk dykes, cartoonists, lesbian
S&M sex workers, women of contemporary literature, aggressive spoken
word artists and poets, filmmakers etc., all these unique factions brought
together by simple mutual admiration and respect for Tribe8's tireless
commitment or just the awe they inspired in so many others like themselves
to be themselves. After all, not every dyke wore khakis, had bad mullet
haircuts and dangly earrings and listened to the Blazing Redheads.
There was a new outrageous dyke emerging, defying assimilation, being
confrontational, throttling the gay community with artistic endeavors
replete with political purpose, creating a new voice and opening the
floodgates to thousands of others. To me Lynn Breedlove was the perfect
example the new and extreme lesbian of the 90's, Futuredyke, like a
super-hero flanked by her band of equally empowered, fearless female
greats. She also created and ran an all-female bike messenger service
called Lickety-Split and one day she had some photos delivered to my
home to accompany an article I was writing and the messenger who made
the delivery was the most stunningly beautiful woman imaginable, an
enigma with eyes that danced with light, and I thought, Lynn, you're
such a dude, imagining a fleet of similar Goddesses making up her staff.
More recently there has been some changes in Tribe 8's line-up, most
notably the departure of long time guitarist Lynn Flipper, a great player
with teen idol-good looks who has decided to make films instead of music
for now. Her departure had some worried about the fate of Tribe 8 but
some new players were added and reportedly the change has sparked new
life into the band. Enough so to have earned them a spot on an upcoming
bill that in some ways must be a big highlight, thrill or milestone
for them as a band, for on April 25 at the Warfield Theater Tribe 8
will be opening for Siouxsee and the Banshees! But wait! Right at press
time another show was added on the
previous night at the Fillmore same line-up so that's twice they'll
have the honor-and a possible second chance for folks to get tickets
as the Warfield show sold out like instantly.
But enough about that, the book Godspeed (St Martin's Press, $24.95)
is what I wanted to talk up here. I'm only about half way through Lynn's
first novel and it's the kind of book I purposely force myself to put
down and halt my consumption of it because I want to make it last as
it is so rich and fascinating and hard and funny, a page turner that
takes you on a journey weaving in and out of harsh reality and drug
induced hallucinatory whimsy, memories to present moments, heroism to
humility, violence to
tenderness all in a rapid-fire highly detailed manner so fresh it crackles
with amplified surges of uncontrolled noise, rolls you through filth
and smells so acrid and blows directly to the synapse of nervous impulse
as opposed to just getting under your skin. You experience this uniquely
alive turn of the phrase with all five senses and it takes your breath
away. For a first novel this is so strong it's frightening.
In the acknowledgements it states, "Mom says to tell everyone this
is a work of FICTION." as the book's main character Jim, a dyke
bike messenger speed freak who dates strippers and kicks ass and sells
drugs and lives in a squat and tours as a roadie for a punk dyke band,
bears some definite parallels to Lynn's own life. If you've ever heard
Breedlove do any readings or spoken word stuff that she does so magnificently,
you have an idea of the narrative fast paced style Godspeed takes on,
but just an idea
because she hits on a whole new realm of effectiveness in construction
and she tells so many stories within stories, with incredible characters
bouncing in and out of Jim's singular quest for the ultimate drug high
or the love of Ally Cat, the stripper of his heart who can't abide the
junkie behaviors yet can show him glimpses of the one thing in life
he might fully submit to, romantic love.
Or at least that's what I've gathered so far, being only halfway through
the book and savoring each chapter like a fine feast. I will say that
the book portrays certain drug experiences with the most evocative accuracy
and conceptually detailed descriptions that I've ever read. The rituals,
the preparation, the ceremony, the high, its metamorphosis as you introduce
another drug on top, and then another, the personalities encountered
in buying drugs, the people surrounding dealers, the casualties who
lose their minds and are hearing aliens, the perpetual tweak projects
that never reach completion, and some of the most graphic and ugly details
of severe abuse I've ever heard-they're all in there-the agony and the
ecstasy, served up without judgment, romance or glamour, just the truth.
I maybe should read the rest of it before going on more but I think
the literary world is going to take note and recognize that with Godspeed
a brilliant new talent has emerged-alive and kicking ass. Buy this book-it's
beyond just great.
Bay
Area Reporter April 11 2002
Ride
with the devil
by Zak Szymanski
Early reviews of Lynn Breedlove's first novel have suggested its significance
is based on the storyline of a drug-addicted lesbian bike messenger
surviving in the underworlds of San Francisco and New York."Godspeed
is the most important novel this side of Naked Lunch," says author
Judith Halberstam of the book's release. "Imagine The Odyssey set
to loud punk music and featuring a tough butch hero on a quest for her
stripper
girlfriend."
Don't believe it. The lead singer for the lesbian punk band Tribe 8
and spoken-word artist as featured with the troupe Sister Spit has indeed
put forward a worthy piece of literary work. But innovation tends to
thrive outside confinement, and the brilliance of Godspeed, while propelled
by its characters' lives, is not dependent on its plot, or even its
premise that the world revolves around tattooed jobless lesbians on
the run. And with all due respect to Burroughs, Breedlove's book goes
far beyond the disassociation and science of addiction, redefining not
only gender and culture, but how thought itself should be conveyed upon
the page.
This was apparent even at a brief reading as part of the Harvey Milk
Institute's Arts and Lecture Series on Thursday, April 4. Godspeed,
published by St. Martin's Press, would celebrate its release that night
to the tune of an all-star lesbian/FTM lineup and a packed house at
San Francisco's new LGBT Community Center.
The evening's genderfucked punk theme was set early on, with Breedlove's
fellow Sister Spitster Sini Anderson picking up microphone frequencies
through her nose ring, and transgender hip-hop poet Marcus Rene Van
sputtering the rhythms of marginalization. But this was Breedlove's
night, with a table set up for autographs and a slide show providing
a glimpse of the images that provoked her groundbreaking work from life
onto paper.
The hero of Godspeed, a lesbian named Jim, has something to say about
everything in a way that has never before been said, and doesn't apologize
for assuming you understand.
"The great thing about history is it makes you whole," Jim
muses while imagining quizzing young punksters on their cultural forefathers.
"No more lonesome fragment, me."
And on heterosexuality, she delivers a theoretical conversation that
may even strike a chord with some members of the opposite-gender-loving
population:
"Oh yeah, let's pretend we have stuff in common. OK we don't. OK,
I'll just pretend I'm not me at all and that I know what you're talking
about. OK great, and I'll just ignore you."
The story itself may hook you, and why shouldn't it? We're breathing
bus fumes down hills and through South of Market, kicking ass and calling
straight boys "faggot"; giving up everything for a girl because
she's the only one who wouldn't want you to; jumping from the streets
to the crafty finagling of sustenance and shelter; trading roadie labor
for a chance to ride the sex-driven tour bus of a dyke band known as
Hostile Mucous;
bodyguarding a drag queen weakened by AIDS; falling for a bio-fag who
wants you because you can't hurt each other; almost loving a rebound
f**k whose tears just come too soon; avenging the sloppy rapes of the
world, Lorena Bobbitt-style; and defending a Manhattan squat by throwing
Molotov cocktails at the cops below, all in the midst of kicking —
and rekindling — a relationship.
But it is the careful construction of reckless language — as well
as what isn't said — that will ensure Godspeed's place in our community's
canon.
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