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 Women Who Rawk:
Janet Robin
Article By: Nikki Palomino
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Very young groupies would cruise the Sunset Strip making the Rainbow Bar and Grill and the Continental Hyatt House (a.k.a. “Riot House”) their second homes. Groupie Morgan Welch said, “There was a power in being able to provide fulfillment of fantasies of these (rock) men who were older than me.”
And then there was a different kind of woman.
Kim Fowley, one of rock’n’roll’s early entrepreneurs as manager of the Runaways, launching pad for future stars Joan Jett and Lita Ford, said, “Laurel Canyon was a kind of refuge for people who were incapable of eyeball-to-eyeball hustling on Sunset Boulevard...If you took away their tumbleweeds and eucalyptus, they were fucking boring.”
And here’s where Janet Robin’s story starts as one powerful chick with an ax.
Robin grew up just over the hill from the Strip in North Hollywood where she and her older brother switched to electric guitars with a referral to Musonia School of Music owned by Delores Rhoads. Nine year-old Robin’s teacher was not only Delores’ son but Quiet Riot’s guitar player the tiny, skinny Randy Rhoads. The heavy metal band would later rack up hits like “Cum On Feel the Noize” and “Metal Health.”
L.A. again was creating a burgeoning music scene between punk rock and early metal chipping away at the cultural somnolence of the sixties for which Hunter S. Thompson had said “he could point his motorcycle in any direction and be absolutely certain that no matter which way he went, he would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as he was.”
But soon-to-be guitar slinger Robin had found her place in the male-dominated world called rock’n’roll.
Robin took lessons as the youngest and one of the only females of Rhoads’ students.
“The room Randy taught in was very non-descript. Had two chairs, a music stand and his small tweed Fender amp. He had an ashtray because he smoked like a fiend and drank diet cokes. I learned confidence, discipline and the love of music. Inadvertently, he taught me songwriting because during lessons, he would show me a progression which was usually a riff of some sort- melodic sounding, not just plain chords. Then I would play that while he would wildly solo over what I was playing. When I got better with playing lead, he would switch.”
About those Rhoads’ guitar progressions Robin speaks of? Zakk Wylde (Black Label Society) said, “Rhoads’ solos were compositions within a composition.” Nikki Sixx (Motley Crue) said “he bridged metal, pop, (hooks) and classical.” What better teacher for a young guitarist?
“Randy was dedicated to his students. When I was fifteen, during his time with Ozzy, he taught me my last lesson. He came out and told his mom ‘she’s doing great…when she’s my age, she’ll be better than me’. Not sure about that.”
Rhoads was tragically killed in an unfortunate accident March 19, 1982 on tour in Leesburg, Florida, but as a mentor, he had left an invaluable gift.
Had Robin read the Rolling Stone magazine article quoting David Dalton as saying, “There was a place for women in the music biz all right, as torch chanteuses, teen angels and back-up singers?”
Or had she even been alive when L.A. music figure, writing for L.A. Weekly and contributing to the L.A. Times, the late Judy Raphael, asked Ray Manzarek if she could join him and Jim Morrison to form the Doors, Manzarek told her, “No, there aren’t any girls in rock bands.” The folk inroads women had made during the Southern California folk boom had diminished with the ultimate boys club of sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.
Robin must have been mastering the six string guitar without the hippie-chick-meets-hooker bravado. She was really and truly rock’n’roll and oblivious to Manzarek’s declaration.
“I answered an ad in the local paper, Recycler, for ‘lead guitarist for an all girl band’. I had played with a lot of guys, and they were cool but at some point they either liked me or hated me. I think they were maybe jealous of my discipline and focus on the guitar and music,” Robin says of her landing a gig with Precious Metal. “I was in high school and guitar was a really huge deal for me. I thought, ‘I’ll try an all girl band’; maybe it will be different and we can feel equal’.”
Lead singer Leslie Knauer had a connection through her boyfriend to KROQ’s DJ Rodney Bingenheimer who loved all girl bands. “We sent him a demo that he played on his show. Also DJ Eddie X played us on his local L.A. lunch time radio show.” Like a crazy Hollywood dream, Russ Reagan, president of Polygram/Mercury Records happened to be driving with the radio on, called the station and asked who Precious Metal was and wanted to sign the band.
“As a woman through the rock machismo eighties, especially, there seemed to be a lot of proving we had to do as a band. We heard the comments like ‘Are your boyfriends playing behind the curtain?’ really ridiculous remarks like that. We had various “toys” thrown at us while onstage, but really apart from all that, when people came to see us live, they could see we really could play. We built our loyal following through our live shows.”
Robin could talk with the exclusive male rock’n’roll crowd about guitars and gear and had the confidence to keep going. “Later down the line, Precious Metal became friends with Ann and Nancy Wilson (Heart) and began writing songs with them, especially for our last record. It was an exciting time for us. They were real supportive, and Nancy was kind of a mentor to me. The Wilson sisters validated our positions as women rock musicians.”
“When Precious Metal broke up, it just so happened Fleetwood Mac’s Lindsey Buckingham was putting together his first solo band for his record “Out of the Cradle”. He wanted to do something different and have sort of a five guitar orchestra, two guys, two girls and himself. He wanted female guitarists who could sing so the harmonies would be rich with male and female vocals.”
Robin’s gig with Buckingham would last three years. “Working with Lindsey in the beginning was stressful, everything had to be perfect, but the pay-off was so amazing, and I truly learned how to be a professional on an even higher level,” says Robin. “Between rehearsing with him and the band, writing songs at times, TV shows, interviews, big theater and arena shows, it was like going to music grad school. Playing songs like ‘Go Your Own Way’ and ‘The Chain’, you just WANTED TO KICK ASS!”
At a time when Tina Turner was selling out arenas, the North Hollywood guitar slinger Robin got her chance to open for the female legend with Buckingham’s band. “I would stand on stage and watch Tina go out, study her every night. I was in awe. Forget about a woman, not many men could do what she did. Towards the end of the tour, I finally got to meet Tina. Liza Carbe (other Buckingham female guitarist) and I went to her dressing room. You could feel how she commands attention just when you walk into the room. She had noticed that we were two female guitar players in his band and thought that was totally amazing.”
“Buckingham mentored my songwriting, meeting Saturday afternoons, so when the tour ended, and Buckingham went back to Fleetwood Mac, I went for it solo and started writing and playing shows on my own, and co-writing with a lot of other artists like Maria Sharp, Garrison Starr, and others. I still wanted to take hired gun gigs too, but I was really focusing on my own solo career at that point. Now I actually am able to do both… and have had the great opportunity to play with some other amazing artists as well as open for some, including Ann & Nancy Wilson on an acoustic show they did.”
Robin still kicks ass, continuing in the Randy Rhoads tradition with everyone from the Wilson sisters to Meredith Brooks, Michelle Shocked, Air Supply and opening for and playing with legendary guitarists like Monte Montgomery and Tommy Emmanuel.
So Ray Manzarek might have underestimated the power of Women Who Rawk when he said, “There aren’t any girls in rock bands.”
Janet Robin is really and truly rock’n’roll and here in Ginger Coyote’s Punk Globe Magazine coupled with Nikki Palomino’s DAZED on WE68Radio we will put the rumor to rest. Women fuckin’ rawk!
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