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Lilith, according to Jewish folklore, was Adam's first wife. Dumped and banished for refusing to be submissive, she returned as a vengeful ghost to haunt and unsettle Eden.
Likewise, the proudly female Lilith Fair began as an idea scorned and ridiculed, only to rise triumphant and render the touring industry's male canon ... well, impotent. Last year's inaugural Lilith raked in roughly $16.4 million and was declared 1997's top festival tour - ahead of Lollapalooza, H.O.R.D.E. and similar boys' clubs. (It was 16th when ranked along with solo tours.) Bean counters expect bigger grosses from this year's 47-city trek, launching June 19 in Portland, Ore. Rather than sinking to nyah-nyah-nyah bragging, the festival's organizers are diplomatically savoring revenge on a music business that traditionally nixed all-female marquees as unmarketable. ''On a reactionary level, it was absolutely empowering to succeed after hearing so many people say you can't do this, it won't work,'' says fest founder Sarah McLachlan, who again headlines slot. ''In my heart and mind, those attitudes never made sense to me. But we were an unknown entity last year, and I don't really blame promoters for hesitating or artists for not wanting to be involved. It's a huge organizational feat to make something like this run smoothly. It could have been terrible, but it wasn't.'' ''Not terrible'' isn't exactly a victory cry. Loath to crow, McLachlan downplays her role in Lilith's ascendancy and credits the allure of such '97 co-stars as Tracy Chapman, Suzanne Vega and Jewel. But she takes pride in bucking the system. ''It was thrilling to look at an audience last summer and think, me and 25,000 people can't be wrong,'' says McLachlan, 30. ''It exceeded every expectation I ever had. It was tons and tons of work but really rewarding. And so much fun.'' Born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, to a homemaker and a marine biologist, McLachlan was signed at age 19 and released her first album, Touch, a year later. A supernova in her native Canada, she enjoyed a lower profile south of the border, building a cult following that widened with 1994's Fumbling Towards Ecstasy and 1997's Surfacing. By her own admission, the classically trained guitarist was an unlikely candidate to spearhead a pop music revolution. But after music execs repeatedly rejected her proposals to tour with other women, the frustrated McLachlan drafted her dream team. Hype and girls-night-out novelty status boosted Lilith's profile last year. A golden track record and keener media attention now fuel momentum, along with such promotional ammo as a new book, From Lilith to Lilith Fair (Madrigal Press, $19.95), and a 25-song memento culled from last year's performances. The two-CD Lilith Fair: A Celebration of Women in Music premiered at No. 24 in Billboard and sold 86,000 copies in two weeks. |
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The 1998 sequel has greater geographic reach (47 cities compared to last year's 37), expanded concourse attractions, a 14-city talent search and such hefty sponsors as Levi's, Volkswagen and VH1, which plans extensive tour coverage. Nonprofit groups, including the Breast Cancer Fund, Planned Parenthood and the RAINN sexual assault hotline established by Tori Amos, will receive $1 from each ticket sold. (Lilith shelled out $700,000 to charities last year.) The main attraction is the blockbuster talent pool. Rotating lineups are drawn from a roster that includes Joan Osborne, Paula Cole, Bonnie Raitt, Sheryl Crow, Emmylou Harris, the Indigo Girls, Lisa Loeb, Sinead O'Connor, Erykah Badu, Liz Phair, Natalie Merchant, Me'Shell NdegeOcello, Meredith Brooks, Tracy Bonham, Lauren Hill, Missy ''Misdemeanor'' Elliott, Cowboy Junkies, Luscious Jackson, Neneh Cherry and Queen Latifah. About 60% of the 50-plus performers are returnees. And they're coming back with enhanced credibility: Lilith grads walked off with 25 Grammys in February. Despite rosy projections for Lilith, McLachlan isn't anticipating a cakewalk. ''I went into it last year with an open heart and open mind, without thinking about how many tickets we'd sell,'' she says. ''It was our year of innocence and growth, and I was naive and overwhelmed. Because of the learning curve, I'm now painfully aware of the bottom line. The shows are so expensive to produce that we have to sell 34,000 tickets at some venues to break even. I don't want to dwell on that, because it makes me nervous.'' Changing their tune She's heartened by increased cooperation this year. Artists who resisted coming aboard last time lobbied hard to get on the bill. Promoters who scoffed at the notion of a testosterone-free ticket eagerly lined up this year. ''I don't know if Lilith changed their attitudes, but it certainly changed their pocketbooks and their tune,'' McLachlan says. ''They know they can make money on this little creature that grew wings and took off.'' For consumers, Lilith means more bang for the buck (a $25-$35 ticket buys 11 acts). For the players, the professional payoffs - press coverage, a broader audience - seem less enticing than the opportunities for girl power and girl talk. ''It's beautiful to make friends with other women,'' says Paula Cole, a fixture on last year's stage. ''It's wonderful to connect and unify and not feel like such a minority.'' Newcomer Margo Timmons, singer for Cowboy Junkies, delights in knowing her male bandmates will be outnumbered. ''I'm praying the conversation goes beyond hockey and cars,'' she says. First-timer Bonnie Raitt, the tour's self-confessed den mother, looks forward to creative cross-pollination. ''I hope there's some interplay between the different acts,'' says Raitt, who embraces Lilith more for its diversity than its feminine distinction. ''I don't think it's such a good idea to offer three or four acts that play the exact same kind of music. I'm glad to see such a range of talent.'' McLachlan is game. On Lilith's maiden journey, the initially shy participants eventually got chummy enough to collaborate onstage. ''A lot of walls got broken down,'' McLachlan says. ''It takes a while for things to warm up, but once everyone opened up, it was amazing. I felt like a kid when I went into Emmylou Harris' dressing room and said, 'Do you want to sing together?' And she said yes! ''I am such a big fan. To sing with Emmylou Harris was a huge thrill. To watch her perform is a lesson in grace and pride. She's beautiful. I'm looking forward to the same thing with Bonnie Raitt, who has this down to a fine art.'' It's like I belong New soul-rocker Rebekah, likewise, says she's grateful for the chance to learn from Cole, Raitt and others she admires. ''My father's going to keel over when I tell him Bonnie's on the tour,'' she says breathlessly, adding with a laugh, ''I need to be around women and be feminine again. After being with the boys in my band, my language is so dirty right now.'' The exposure should benefit her career, but Rebekah sees a bigger reward in Lilith's cosy sisterhood. ''Nobody knows who I am yet. I keep hearing, 'Who's that black girl with the funky hair?' As part of Lilith, I feel comfortable and welcome, like I belong here. Sarah has been so sweet.'' Rising star Meredith Brooks, back for round two, says Lilith's seasoned players offered friendship and guidance. ''These girls just opened their arms to me,'' she says. ''I was still trying to figure out how to sleep on the tour bus. I'm used to being on tour with 10 guys, so Lilith was a very calming environment.'' What? No rivalries? No vicious gossip? No cat fights? ''There's this weird false assumption that we might be catty or competitive,'' says another Lilith alumna, the very pregnant Shawn Colvin. Impressed by last year's roster (and the catered meals), she'll return for two shows in June. ''The press pits us against each other. I used to be scared of Liz (Phair), but I'm not now. I met her, and she's really nice.'' |
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McLachlan took some shots last year for headlining every show and assembling a homogenous roster of campfire-girl singer/songwriters. None of the criticism came from within Lilith's ranks. ''The girls defended me and supported me continually,'' she says. ''Even though the media (were) incredibly supportive and generally very positive, the questions at the press conferences mostly focused on what Lilith Fair should have been or wasn't. I felt like I needed to justify it every step of the way. Sheryl Crow stepped in at one point and said, 'Look, this is her thing, and if she wants to do this, she can!' It was really nice.'' As for any ill will about McLachlan getting top billing over more established acts, the Lilith ringleader says she attempted to coax Tracy Chapman into the slot but was rebuffed. ''I would be happy not to headline, but nobody else wants it,'' she says. ''It was intimidating going on after Tracy, who was doing one hit after another. Luckily, there was never a problem, because the audience was so respectful.'' Hmmm, could that be due to a heavy representation of the fairer sex? A paucity of Y chromosomes in Lilith crowds prompted detractors to dismiss the tour as a musical petticoat junction, a goddess retreat or, worst of all, a man-hating convention. McLachlan has struggled to ensure a guy-friendly atmosphere. ''You can only hope that men give the show a chance,'' she says wearily. ''It's just so sad that any time women get together, some men feel very threatened by it.'' While Lilith clearly boasts a feminist stance, its purpose is to celebrate pop music's female talent, not provoke a gender war, McLachlan says. Rather than proffer a radical manifesto or rail against sexism in the industry, Lilith's attitude is inclusive, and its constituents aren't above poking fun at themselves. Face it, these grrrls just wanna have fun. ''I'd like to test the theory of our periods all getting synchronized,'' Raitt jokes. Liz Phair's retort: ''I'd hate to be at the PMS show.'' |
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