Purposely or not, pioneering women have long been written out of music history; the fields of jazz and popular music are no exception. It is exciting to see that these historical mistakes are being corrected in our media, scholarship, and classrooms. In recent years, we have amended these biases by affirming trailblazers such as the Go-Go's in their recent documentary and their induction into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.Footnote 1 Other women have been “rediscovered” through mini-documentaries, books, and historical footage gone viral—like Sister Rosetta Tharpe, whose guitar prowess and charismatic performance style influenced many of the men considered to be rock's founders, including every member of the Million Dollar Quartet, Little Richard, and Chuck Berry.Footnote 2 The act of “rediscovery” allows scholars and journalists to revise old narratives about music history that foregrounded the contributions of men. The new narratives being forged creates spaces for other voices that have shaped and reshaped popular music.
Dottie Dodgion and Wayne Enstice's The Lady Swings: Memoirs of a Jazz Drummer is the latest autobiographical addition to unearth the contributions of a central figure. Dodgion and Enstice take the reader on a journey through a life that is well-lived and chock-full of intrigue, making Dodgion's story ripe for a Hollywood adaptation: Its tales of kidnapping, rape, illness, abortion, romance, divorce, strip clubs, prostitution, an open marriage, and more makes the reader's jaw drop nearly every chapter. However, Dodgion's music career remains front and center throughout the text; in the words of Enstice in the prefatory notes, the book focuses on “her long-overlooked legacy as a player: How hard she swings, her artistry on the drums, and her rock-solid, in-the-pocket accompaniment” (ix). There are thirty-four short chapters (called “Scenes” in the book) divided into three parts according to their geographical locations. Parts 1 and 3 bookend her years in California, where she has spent most of her life, and part 2 details her East Coast, New York years, 1961–85. The book's accompanying videos, recordings, and illustrations round out this story. Dodgion tells her personal and professional anecdotes with a voice that is sometimes humorous but always vulnerable and likeable, as evident from the book's first line: “Hi, honey. It's me, Dottie D” (1). Her relatable tone makes it easy for the reader to understand why she deserves a bigger focus in the story of jazz.
This book appeals to several types of audiences. For jazz fans and scholars, Dodgion unearths stories about the genre's central figures not heard elsewhere. For instance, she tells about her time singing with Charles Mingus and drumming with Benny Goodman, Chick Corea, and Dave Brubeck. Dodgion also talks about befriending Louis Bellson, Pearl Bailey, and Sarah Vaughan and encountering Dizzy Gillespie, Billie Holiday, and Frank Sinatra along the way. The book speaks directly to musicians—especially drummers—who will appreciate hearing about a 90-year-old's career from her point of view. She talks honestly about a musician's life, and how it is often full of excitement, travel, and unpredictability. Her story thus foregrounds the role perseverance can play in success within the music industry.
One pleasant surprise within this text is its deep engagement with musical sounds and the physical experience of drumming—a topic lacking in many autobiographies. Dodgion describes the act of jamming and how to get into a groove with other musicians. She incisively links her formative activities in tap dancing, basketball, and typing directly to the rhythm and coordination of her drumming. Most enlightening is her conceptualization of swinging around the simple words “apple pie, apple pie, apple pie.” Dodgion even relates her success as a player to her gender in describing how she envisions her role in a band:
[T]he drummer has to lay down the tempo, but often for drummers of a particular gender persuasion, that means power and volume. To the contrary, I've found that a rhythm section works together best when I moderate my power. When somebody kicks it off, I give that first note life; I make that first snap of my stroke swing by giving it a “hint” of an edge on top of beats one and three. I listen to the overall sound and then I play right in the middle or just under the rest of the band so I never get in their way. I don't change their conception; I make them feel comfortable with it: I'm a supportive player (97).
By explaining how she conceptualizes her role in the rhythm section through controlling power, being purposeful with dynamics, and connecting closely with her bandmates, the reader begins to understand Dodgion's style. Anyone looking for descriptions of how musicians think about performance—from scholars studying performance practice to fans—is sure to find this resource helpful.
However if the book speaks to one audience above all, it speaks to women musicians who play instruments traditionally coded as “masculine.” As a nonbinary rock drummer, I often felt like Dodgion was writing about my own experiences, heartbreaks, trials, and tribulations. She writes often about men doubting her and her resolve to continually rise to each challenge and beat her way through jazz's glass ceiling with her drumsticks. Her book displays a nuanced understanding of exactly which boundaries she broke and the covert sexism she faced throughout her career. Dodgion also speaks openly about the hard choices she had to make in order to achieve success, particularly the difficulties of embarking on a touring career while her parents raised her daughter for much of the child's formative years. Anyone who identifies as a woman musician (particularly in a rhythm section), who studies this topic (in gender studies or beyond), or who simply cares about women's roles in music should read this book to understand the unique challenges they have faced in the music industry.
I hope in the coming years to see more documentaries, books, and media about the great unsung (and un-drummed) women of music history. These would include women like Johnnie Mae Matthews, the first African American woman record label owner who taught Berry Gordy the art of acquiring distribution deals; Goldie and the Gingerbreads, the first all-woman, instrument-wielding band signed to a major label; and Tina Bell, the founding Black godmother of Seattle grunge. More than that, I challenge us as scholars to treat women as the core figures they are in music history: For instance, teaching Joan Baez as our example of folk revival rather than Bob Dylan, or Madonna as our example of an MTV-era pop icon rather than Michael Jackson. The Lady Swings tells a story not many have heard. It honors one woman's significant contribution to jazz drumming. Most importantly, it presents a woman's voice and point of view in the history of a male-dominated genre on a masculine-coded instrument. Moreover so, I end my review with the same last sentence that Dodgion used to conclude her book: “who could ask for anything more?” (241).
Mandy Smith is the director of education at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. She oversees all pre-kindergarten through college onsite and online learning as well as The Garage, the Rock Hall's interactive musical instrument exhibit. She earned her PhD in musicology from Case Western Reserve University, her MA in musicology from California State University, Long Beach, and a BA in the history of Rock & Roll Music from Indiana University. Smith has drummed in punk, metal, alternative, and progressive rock bands for nearly 30 years.
