My favorite books about music that put women center stage

Sinéad O’Connor rose to fame in the early 1990s, before social media, when tabloids made millions taking women down, as did the music press.

Back then there were few mechanisms to clap back, so much of what we thought we knew about her, before and after SNL, was warped by that perspective. Left with little sense of who O’Connor really was, we also had limited awareness of the great music she made long after she stopped making hits.

Unlike a lot of celebrity memoirs, O’Connor’s isn’t a victory lap or a bitter tell-all. Nor does it try to gloss over the difficult parts. Instead, it’s a chance for her to tell her story herself, and for us to finally see her for the brilliant and complicated artist she truly is.

Nashville-based singer-songwriter Margo Price is the real deal.

Her beginnings were humble, and her struggles have been many. Her memoir takes you on the road with her through bad low-paying, low-attended early gigs, drinking, and drugs. Price's marriage/creative partnership is tender and beautiful, yet becomes fragile as it shoulders the unbearable loss of a newborn son.

Through it all, you can feel Price’s grit and determination to survive with her soul intact, making it in an industry that pressures artists to conform to its priorities and sets them up to fail when they resist- or simply try to be themselves.

Price’s music is the soundtrack to her courageous story in progress. In the best possible way, this book reads like the liner notes: honest, heartfelt, and profound.   

Daphne A. Brooks’ book is a revolutionary work, centering more than a century of innovations by Black women in popular music who have been marginalized, overlooked, or erased.

Situating Zora Neale Hurston as a sound archivist and performer and Lorraine Hansberry as a cultural critic alongside blues pioneers such as Bessie Smith and Mamie Smith and contemporary artists like Janelle Monáe and Valerie June, Brooks doesn’t merely fill in blind spots.

She exposes how those blind spots reflect the partial, subjective view of white male critics and historians.

Showing us a different way of seeing and listening to culture, Brooks has informed and inspired my thinking, and some of the best work I’ve done as a journalist, including this piece about Elizabeth Cotten, whose music fueled the 1960s folk revival.

With amazing illustrations by Rachelle Baker, the journalist Clover Hope spotlights dozens of women who have played an integral role in hip-hop’s story, from legends such as Roxanne Shanté and Lil’ Kim to less often celebrated trailblazers like Bytches with Problems.

Documenting women's often unrecognized influence, Hope leaves you with a sense of how deeply they have nevertheless left their mark, and keeps their legacy alive for future generations of music-makers.

Living Colour enjoyed an all too brief moment of superstardom at the same time as Sinéad O’Connor.

Grappling with issues such as racism, classism, and police brutality, it fused different musical styles. Yet white critics often saw the all-Black band as a rock anomaly- which was ironic considering that Little Richard and the saxophonist Maceo Parker (who played with James Brown) were among Living Colour's key collaborators! 

Through interviews with the band and key players in the production and reception of its bold, experimental 1990 album, Time’s Up, Mack shows why Living Colour was (and is) musically and politically powerful, and why it remains influential.

For me what makes this book really shine is her presence in the story as a Black girl growing up loving rock, then later as a scholar reclaiming it.