FINDS IT'S NEW VOICE
AS JANE CHILD UNLEASHES THE HOTTEST
KEYBOARD DEBUT ALBUM OF THE YEAR
By ROBERT L. DOERSCHUK
Somewhere in Hollywood, the ghost of
Vidah Bickford rests a little easier. Known in her day as
one of L.A.'s top guitarists and mandolinists,
she shares her space now with a kindred soul-not another
spectre from yesterday's musical whirl, but a young dynamo
whose corporeality in the nascent '90's is hard to deny.
Only a few days before her encounter
Jane Child bought the house once owned by Bickford. Built
in 1917, the rambling old building is surrounded by a wrought-iron
fence whose design motif centers around a musical notes.
Two old photos of
Bickford came with the purchase. 'I've put them in
the built-in bookcase,'
Child smiles. 'I feel her presence all the time.'
As for Bickford, it's easy to imagine
her faded framed face taking it all in as the new tenant
makes herself at home. If the sight of strange electronic
keyboards and futuristic digital studio gear-not to mention
the spectacle of Jane's black nails, gold nose ring and
chain and corn-rowed, waterfalling 'do- spooks the spirit
she doesn't show it. More likely, she's glad for the company
of someone whose own passion for music matches her own.
Child's ticket to Bickford's digs was
paid for by the success of her eponymous debut album, a
collection of razor-edged performances built from equal
parts hook, groove and savvy musicianship . Jane Child probably would have demanded the industry's attention in any
event, but MTV gave the record some extra momentum by airing
her video to 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love,' an arty montage that reflects the
songs twin strengths: street energy and solid chops.
With this video, Child pulls off a
nifty trick: Shots of downtown Manhattan at night alternate
with scenes of the artist at work, laying down tracks on
a Fairlight and mixing the results on a
Quick cuts between the two make the
point that street energy and high-tech gadgetry aren't necessarily
incompatible. Indeed, in Child's hands, it seems a natural
partnership. Her thorough training in classical piano instilled
a respect for technique that carried over easily to the
task of mastering the intricacies of electronic music; for
Child, executing scales evenly and programming the perfect
bass sound are equally crucial preliminary steps
Toward the greater goal of making music
that speaks with both passion and authority.
This is the key to Child: her balance
of technique and spirit, glitz and substance. In an industry
where image often carries more weight than talent, Child
pays attention to both at the expense of neither. In her
music too, conflicting elements collide and connect in a
A feeling of sponteneity animates her meticulously layered
parts. Her bass lines hop all over inflexible backbeats.
Intricate harmonies animate raw sequenced grooves. She even
tosses in a synth solo into the stew, on 'Don't Wanna Fall
In Love'- transcribed on page 63-. In short, Jane Child's music and public
persona draw much of their power from the instability of
This wild Child was born into a musically
sophisticated Toronto family. Her father, a violinist and
composer, and her mother, a vocalist and pianist, provided
the foundation on which she would build her musicianship.
By age 12, she was singing in the Canadian Children's Opera
Company's children's chorus; soon afterward, she began her
piano study at the Royal Conservatory of Music. Though Child
dreamed of making her mark as a classical pianist, the siren
song of rock proved irresistable; by her mid-teens, she
had fled academia to tour with a group of Deadheads who
called themselves Summerhill. 'It was great training,' she
remembers. 'I really played a lot of blues cliché
piano and organ. It's a lot more fun to play blues than
to listen to it. It's such a blast to play a l-lV-V.' Half
in embarrassment she laughs, then concludes, 'Really, it's
just jerking off.'
Helpful as that gig was in exposing
the fledgling artist to the mysteries of improvisation and
survival on the road, Child's destiny involved more than
jamming the blues. She had been writing her own songs-one
a day for years by the time she left the band circuit and
returned to Toronto to launch a solo career. There, she
cut a demo tape that eventually led her to Warner Bros.,
whose support of Child has proven extraordinary by industry
After an expensive video was completed
for the opening cut on the album, 'Welcome To The Real World,'
for example, they agreed with Child that it's concept and
execution were unsatisfactory. The result: An entirely new
shoot, conceived from scratch. If one measures a label's
belief in an artist by how much money they're willing to
dump into the promotional budget, Warner Bros. Clearly are
true believers in Child's future.
As are the mainstream media-Time magazine
was chasing down a Child story when we met with her in L.A.
And, most importantly, growing numbers of fans. Though new
to the international scene, Child seems to have timed her
arrival perfectly. A self-contained composer/performer with
a flair for the camera, a skilled player and programmer,
an opinionated-even blunt-observer of pop trends, she has
found her niche on the battleground where technology, fashion,
and traditional musical values have finally found concord.
In her work we glimpse an enticing future of the decade
to come. Vidah would be proud.
you've battled your way onto MTV rotation and the Billboard
charts, you're no longer a keyboard player struggling to
break into big-time pop music. Suddenly, you're in head-to-head
competition with major-league players, most of whom are
either musicians grouped together within bands or singers
doing their own act unencumbered by instruments. Does maintaining
your connection to your past as a keyboardist inhibit you
in creating a place for yourself in this company?
Well, first of all, it's not really
an image thing: It's the truth. It's what I am. I was a
keyboard player before I wrote songs, before I sang. To
this day, if I'm in a place away from home and there's a
piano there, I feel comfortable. I made the transition from
being a keyboard player in a band to singing out front when
I was 18 or 19. It was pretty scary. But when I perform
live, I'll definitely be playing as well. Not all the time
of course: the main thing is to put the song across, and
I think I'm most effective in getting across what I'm trying
to say when I'm singing. But I'll still be playing solos
and doing that kind of stuff.
Are you making plans to support
the album with a tour?
The real payoff is to perform live;
that's the best part of it, and I'm looking forward to doing
that. But I want to make another album first. I'm not going
to go out before it's right. I have no intention of doing
track dates; that's just not what I'm about. And when I
do perform, I have no intention of having it be a taped
extravaganza. Live, to me, is live. I don't mean to sit
in judgment of people who do that, because they are entertaining
and making people feel good. But it's not what I'm about.
would be some sequencing in your show, but it wouldn't be
the dominant element.
Thinking about it, the bass line on
songs like 'Biology' would have to be sequenced. For the
most part, though, it's going to have to be live. You know,
I did play all that stuff into the sequencer.
Well, yeah, I did some quantizing.
I did step some stuff in. I'm really anal, so the velocity-everything,
actually-had to be exactly the way I wanted it. I spent
the first part of this album working 14 hour days, programming,
sampling, cataloguing all that stuff. It was a huge amount
of work to organize my samples, my sequences, and everything
My music is really bass-heavy, so sometimes there would
be six different basses on each songs. To make those not
flam, some times I'd have to program several versions of
the bass line so that they worked with the specific sound.
bass sounds certainly are complex.
And they're as tight as a motherfucker
to where the kick is [smiles]. I write with my left hand. I tend to sing as I write
and come up with a bass line with my left hand.
bass sounds on your album aren't clichés. There doesn't
seem to be a Minimoog buzz in any of them,
Well that's very much a compliment,
but I did use a Minimoog in 'Hey Mr. Jones.'
you're bass sounds are often not very bassy. Most of them
seem to have a lot of top end.
I really love the bottom end. I really wanted it to speak.
I wanted to feel it coming through the floor. The problem
is that that's the function of the kick drum. My bass lines
are very melodic. In order to make them speak, I had to
give the illusion of bottom-make the sounds have character
so that they'd speak through the rest of the track. If they
were bottom-heavy sounds, it would have been muddy; you
wouldn't have been able to discern the bass line.
especially true in your work, since the arrangements are
Each song is chock full of music [laughs].
almost an unfashionable approach. On a lot of dance records,
there's plenty of empty space. You seem to like to fill
I don't think my stuff is dance music per
It's danceable. The truth is, we're trying really hard not to say 'disco.'
But it's back. In fact I don't think it ever left. When
we were calling disco 'disco,' I didn't like it. I liked funk. There's a big difference between
or attitudinal difference?
Back when 'Disco Inferno' and that kind of stuff was happening,
there was also 'Brick House'. To me, 'Brick House' was funk.
The Ohio Players were funk, and the Bee Gees were
disco. Funk is blacker, more groove-oriented, nastier, more
sexual. Dance music 'disco- is more computerized. For the
most part, disco is what happens when white people try to
do funk [laughs].
like dance music, your music does strongly emphasize the
second and fourth beats of the bar.
I like to dance. I think that 2 and 4 are the reason why
everything is 4/4. On some dance music that I actually like,
a lot of the stuff is rooted to a shuffle-time triplet feel.
Teddy Riley did a remix of 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love' and
shuffled it. It's contagious; you have to move to it. But
you're still getting that 2 and 4. Still, not all my stuff
is that way: 'You're My Religion' and 'World Lullabye.'
ostinato did keep the rhythm going through much of 'You're
My Religion,' but the drums do eventually come in on the
right. Actually, that song is a demo. I'd written it on
a piano, and I went into the studio with it when somebody
had some studio time open. There was a Roland S-50 sitting
there, and Linn 9000, neither of which was mine. I did a
simple pattern on the Linn, and played everything
else on the S-50. Everything on that song I played live
that night. There are no real custom sounds on it, but we
did add some different effects.
song, and elsewhere on your album, you deviate from the
pop norm by exploring some unusual harmonies-clusters, jazz
chords, and so on. Do you think that a lot of the music
we hear on the charts these days is too harmonically simple?
Is there room for expansion there?
of two minds on that. Stuff that's full of chords just for
chords' sake I find boring and indulgent. I don't like 'musician'
music; it makes me kind of ill. And some of the stuff that's harmonically boring is also infectious and ingenious
in it's simplicity. I'm a big Public Enemy fan. I don't
know how many adventurous chords they're using, but they're
definitely taking some harmonic chances. They're doing things
that by our standards are quite dissonant, that breaks all
your heavy piano background, they're aren't any piano sounds
on the album. Is it hard to integrate the piano into your
depends on what I used to write the song. I wrote 'You're
My Religion Now' on the piano, but when it came time to
record, there wasn't one around. I like to write on the
piano because it's bare bones. If you can make something
sound good and original on the piano, then enhance it with
all the great sounds and tools that we have, it's only going
to get better. I probably will use piano more on my next
album, because that's my instrument. It's been used a lot,
so I would like to use it a s a color for something that
I'd like to make sound familiar.
your days as a piano student, did you give serious thought
to pursuing a classical career?
That's absolutely what I intended. I wanted to be a concert
pianist. I was definitely putting in the hours. I did all
the competitions when I was young. I won some scholarships.
I studied at the Royal Conservatory of Music with Samuel
Dolin, a contemporary classical composer who was the dean
of the Canadian League of Composers. The reason I wanted
out of it was that there are some very strict rules in classical
music. There's very little room for expressing yourself.
When I started playing in bands, I found that I could express
myself a lot more than I ever did in classical music.
delineating strict rules, doesn't classical music pose a
special kind of challenge to the performer?
that's probably why I still have a very structured way of
lover of Bach's music, did you listen much to one of the
great rule-breakers of classical piano, Glenn Gould?
[smiles] Yes. Although I never met him, I did listen to him. I even
heard him play live once. My favorite, though, was Alicia
de Larocha. She was more of an inspiration because she's
about my size. I heard her at Massey Hall In Toronto, playing
the entire Iberia
of Albeniz, which is huge. In some places, this music is written in three
staves, but this tiny little woman beat the shit out of
it. She didn't let [preconceptions about] her gender or
the size of her hands get in the way. That's a problem for
me, although more in jazz than in classical. I find myself
restricted if I try to play something that's been transcribed
from Oscar Peterson-even a tenth. I can barely, with my
fingernail, grab a
you can always arpeggiate the interval.
what I do. I have to do a lot of that with Chopin. I really
wish I had bigger hands. I mean, I met Oscar Peterson once;
he shook my hand, and his hand nearly came up to my elbow
[laughs]. But when you arpeggiate something, it's not the
same. It makes a different sound when you have the impact
of those notes simultaneously. That's why sequencers are
you interested in electronic keyboards even during your
days of classical piano period?
I played piano, organ, and harspichord; there was no call
for a synthesizer to play Bach. But I eventually got interested.
When I first went on the road, I had a Minimoog, a Solina
[ARP String Ensemble], a Mini-Korg, a Hammond B3 with a
Leslie 145, and a Yamaha CP-70 electric grand.
you ever intimidated by technology?
was a problem for me. There was a time when I was terrified
of drum machines. But, like anything else, you face it,
and you realize that it's not that scary at all. I feel
personally responsible for taking other people through that
too, because I know what it feels like. In fact, I made
my father, who was pretty much afraid of this stuff, more
at ease with it and showed him it's not that scary at all.
It kind of bothers me when we use all these [arcane] terms
in electronic music. I went into a stereo store to get a
CD player recently, and these guys were talking about oversampling-technology
terms that mean nothing! They said, 'This CD player oversamples eight times.' What
the hell does that mean? I'm a keyboard player, I'm a musician,
I'm in the studio every day of my life, and I don't have
any idea what this salesman is talking about! We tend to
use these terms to feel like we really know what we're doing,
but it's better if we can use English to explain it to each
other. It shouldn't be exclusive information [Shouts into
tape recorder:] Don't be afraid of it!
you feel equally comfortable programming on any of your
I made it my business to become familiar with as much of
them as I could. I don't want technology to start ruling
me. It's funny how intimidated people are by this stuff.
I was working one night, and Dave Jerden, who engineered
most of this album, and a couple of the guys from Jane's
Addiction came by. They were totally intimidated by what
I was doing with the Fairlight. I should have sat them down
and said, 'Look, this is what I'm doing. Here's what you
push. It's so simple!'
perhaps too simple? As great preset and third-party sounds
come to dominate the field, is the art of programming becoming
always end up with what you put into it. If you take the
easy way and sample something, you end up with a sampled
sound. If you sit down with a DX7 and start building something
with those algorhithms, you're going to come up with something
a lot more original.
from the intricacies of programming, did you have any problems
adapting a classical piano technique to other keyboards
I had a lot of tension in my forearms. I still do when I
try to play the piano, because when you're playing the blues,
you're pounding a lot. That's not what we did in classical.
I still miss the action of the piano. No matter what they
say, I've never found anything that matches it. I hate that
mushy action that most keyboards have. The Fairlight that
I'm about to get has a new Italian controller keyboard that
I hear has an action like a piano.
getting your own Fairlight?
just about to. Fairlight and I are like this [crosses two
fingers]-very tight. We spent a lot of time together. When
I started making demos, not being able to afford musicians,
I had to borrow somebody's LinnDrum and rent an MSQ-700,
the old Roland hardware sequencer. In those days, in order
to make the LinnDrum and the MSQ talk to each other, I had
to lay down two tracks of code-Linn Drum code and MSQ code.
I was dealing with 24 tracks, and of course I had to have
guard tracks, so this ate up some space. Then I moved onto
a Mac with [Mark of the Unicorn] Performer and an E-mu SP12
drum machine, which wrote and read all my SMPTE, so everything
was controlled from that. I was like kid in a candy store,
because I had one code that drove everything, things were
a lot tighter with my kick and my bass, and I had more flexibility
too. I could go in and change velocities by number. Then
I actually began moving to get a Synclavier
I spent a lot of time with New England Digital. I went to
one of their seminars at Dartmouth University. I was going
to go for the whole Direct-To-Disc system, although at the
time I wasn't sure if it was ready; I was about to make
the record, and the system was very new. At that point,
a friend showed me the Fairlight. It seemed like a really
powerful sampler. The sequencing software seemed really
friendly. I could just start it and play.
sequencing was more difficult to handle?
the main difference, aside from the price, is in the users.
When you get into an instrument like the Fairlight or Synclavier,
you hope that you get to know other users, to swap sounds
and stuff like that. Synclavier owners are purists. These
people spend hours and days getting the perfect Bosendorfer
sample. They have four partials per note of velocity and
sensitivity and that kind of thing. To me, it's just a waste
of time. You're not going to get any harmonic sympathy in
a Synclavier that a piano would have anyway, so why waste
your time sampling it that carefully? Play a Boesendorfer!
Fairlight people seemed more adventurous and kookie with
the things they sampled, and a lot more open to swapping.
I was going in without any of my own sounds, and the existing
Fairlight libraries seemed more in tune with what
I was looking for. So I embarked on a long journey with
the Fairlight. I used it pretty extensively on the album.
In fact, I've been to hell and back with the Fairlight.
Through the whole album, I was kind of pushing the edge
of Fairlight technology. I had guys from Australia [i.e.
Fairlight's home office] trying to make this thing do more
than it actually was able to do at the time.
instance, having exact microsecond triggering. There are
very few things that trigger in microseconds yet; I think
Forat [F-16 Sampler] does. But with the Fairlight, there's
this three millisecond window. When you're laying down things
with the Fairlight, there are three milliseconds of air,
so if you're putting down a kick and you want to put another
kick in, with exactly the same sequence, the same SMPTE,
and all, it's never the same; it goes where it wants to
go. I ended up having to re-record all the bottom end for
the whole album. I had to go in and do kicks and basses
simultaneously, using a Roland SBX-80. I found that using
SMPTE directly to the Fairlight was less accurate. MIDI
is more musical, so I wrote SMPTE through the SBX-80, shot
it back into the SBX-80 and gave MIDI to the Fairlight.
On 'Biology' I got the Mac back and used it because none
of these things was able to negotiate fast sixteenth notes
as well as the Mac.
video for 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love,' you seem to enjoy
using the Fairlight pitch wheel.
love pitch wheels. It makes the music funky. That goes back
when I started playing synthesizers. My Dad brought home
a Poly-Korg, pushed the flute preset, then played a major
triad and said, 'It sounds like an organ.' But of course,
if you're going to play something like a triad, it'll sound
like an organ. If you play it monophonically, it sounds
more like a flute. Therefore, when you're playing a guitar
sample and you use an artificial vibrato, like a mod wheel,
it doesn't sound as realistic. If you do it with a pitch
wheel, it sounds more realistic.
actually play the solo to 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love' on
the video, I'm playing it on the Fairlight, but on the record
I actually MIDIed a bunch of stuff together. I don't remember
what I used as a controller-something without a pitch wheel,
actually. But because I used the Fairlight so much, and
there was only the one song in which there was a solo, I
felt it was only right to do it on the Fairlight for the
it the only solo on the record?
feel very strongly about solos. Sometimes we put solos in
just for the sake of solos, even though often they don't
belong: They have nothing to do with the song, they don't
serve any purpose. The only time I felt a need for a solo
perse was on 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love.' From a writing standpoint,
it just felt like those notes wanted to be heard, and they
weren't singing notes.
wasn't an improvised solo?
was composed, especially the beginning. That's what I wanted
you kept any of your gear from your early days?
although I do have a Minimoog, which I love.
haven't had the mod done yet, but I'm going to. On the album
I used Michael Boddicker's Minimoog, which is MIDIed. Although
I don't use them anymore, I still really like the [Sequential]
Prophet 5 and T-8, which I used a lot on my demos. Through
a mistake, in 'Don't Wanna Fall In Love,' there's a
wakka-wakka bass slap. When I first recorded
the song with the SP-12 and the Mac, something went wrong,
so all of the drum information was going to the Prophet
200. All the hi-hat fills were coming through the bass parts.
It sounded great, so I left it in. That's the most obvious
mistake on the album.
other mistakes were made?
it's not exactly a mistake, but do you know what a sweater
shaver is? It's this little thing that takes off those tiny
balls you get on your sweater. I had one in the studio and
for some reason when we did 'Welcome To The Real World,'
I put it into the guitar player's pickup. You can really
hear it clearly [laughs.]
form the Fairlight, what other keyboards did you use on
Fairlight is good for sampling and sequencing. As far as
pads, it's kind of useless. I like those big, wet, synthy,
brassy pads. I was into the Dazz Band, the Gap Band, Stevie
Wonder-those funk people inspired me to go for those kinds
of sounds. So I had every keyboard in existence there. I
like the Casios; for bass sounds, they're great. I also
used the Prophet 2000, the Prophet-VS, an S-50, a D-50,
a Roland Super JX, an Oberheim Matrix 6'I mean every keyboard
is a certain analog presence in your textures.
glad, because I was really after that. There are a couple
of DX7's in there, but there's this nice edgy thing to digital
sound. You can't get that nice warm and full thing from
anything but analog.
original sampling did you do?
did a bunch of human drums, where I'd get whoever was in
the studio to do [pounds her chest]unnh! To add to the kick drum. I screamed for the snare sound.
Also I used the great big metal bowl I have at home. When
I was washing it, and it had water inside, it would hit
the sink and make these great sounds, so I sampled that.
I also had a couple of little toys I got at Christmas from
this novelty store. One is called Alien; you can hear it
on 'DS21,' going [makes
like a theremin.
did sound like a theremin! I wasn't able to find a theremin,
but this worked great, so I sampled it instead.
about the acapella choral intro to 'Hey Mr. Jones'? Were
those samples of your voice?
was all sung live, actually. I found that what I had wanted
to do in keyboards was a lot harder to do when I actually
go into the studio. It took me a weekend to do. To make
it seamless, I recorded four tracks of each part, bounced
them to one, and kept going. The engineer and I figured
it out: We used some ridiculous amount of tracks-maybe two
hundred and something.
compose that section before recording?
sketched it out on keyboards, but as I recorded it, it took
it's own direction. It was very odd to start o n it, because
there was nothing there. I had put a hi-hat down, but it
was leaking, so I had to lose it. It was really difficult.
I've heard this analogy of creating something from nothing:
That's what this felt like.
most of your drum sounds Fairlight samples?
got my drum sounds from everywhere, There was a kick sound
on the demo of 'Biology' that I'll never be able to reproduce;
I don't know how I did it. For the most part, the drum sounds
are big and gated, although that's getting old. But these
sounds document a part of my life. It's a different day
now, and the next album will reflect that.
what differences do you anticipate between your first and
listening to a lot of East Indian stuff. I'm really interested
in that music. In fact, I've made charts with the different
scales they use. Our smallest tone, in contemporary classical
music, is a semitone. But they have what is called a sruti, a much smaller interval. I plan
to get into that, probably changing the tuning of my Fairlight.
You can come up with great stuff by doing odd tunings and
playing the way you normally play. It's cheating, but it's
great. On the other hand, I don't want technology to start
ruling me. There are lots of great instruments and players
in East Indian music. Sampling a sitar just ain't gonna
work as effectively, so I'll probably get some live players
on there as well. To do otherwise would really be an insult
to the music. If something is becoming an influence, I have
to get comfortable with it. If you try to force it, it sounds
forced. That's not my intention. I'm going to use this stuff
for what I do, because that's the natural approach. I'm
not East Indian.
if your star continues to rise? If your reality in months
to come is that of a new pop star, is there a danger that
this will musically restrict what you do on subsequent projects?
[Sighs.] I'm not worried about it. I am a musician, but people will
find what they want to find in me. If they just see me as
a pop singer, and that's what they enjoy, fine. I'm not
trying to ram anything down anybody's throat.
still important for you to make the point that you are coming
from a musical background.
ego. I worked really hard on this. Maybe the general public
thinks that you come into the studio, and it's a party,
and you leave. But it's a lot of work.
a little unusual that the person whose face is seen singing
on her videos also did all the music. Maybe it's important
to point out to potential musicians that it is possible
to go after your dreams without surrendering control of
really the unusual thing is that I'm female. I happen to
be female, and I happen to be a musician. I don't know how
many female pop stars do their own music, but I do, although
I never think about the fact that I'm female when I write
a song. I hope that men can relate to what I'm saying lyrically-forget
musically-as much as women I've heard from some men that
my music is aggressive and hard'in other words, not female.
But I am aggressive, I am hard, and I am female. So, how
can you say those aren't female traits? They're human traits.
Women don't just write soft, pretty ballads. We have strong,
obsessive, crazy feelings, and we can express them in the
same ways that men do.
which makes it surprising that such a high percentage of
players in music, not to mention readers of Keyboard, are
Well, Keyboard is a technical magazine. I've always tended to be an egghead
myself. I've always had my head in a manual. Of course,
that doesn't make cooking and sewing any less important
of all that, had being a woman made it harder for you to
break into music as a self-contained player/producer/songwriter/singer
than it should have?
the purely technical end of it, I really have not encountered
any weird, sexist opposition. I think that's because it
never enters my mind. Someone technical comes into the studio
where I'm working, and I talk to them, and we're immediately
working. There's no time for anything else. But I do feel
it some other times. I own an Otari 32-track machine, which
someone came to service. Now I can't even be angry with
this guy, but he just didn't get the fact that this is my
machine. He proceeded to explain that this is a digital
machine, that it works by numbers-he was very carefully
trying to explain binary code to me!
didn't take offense; he was just ignorant. But it's very
rare that that happens.
would you say to those women who seem to encounter greater
levels of sexist opposition in the industry?
them not to use it as a crutch. Tell them to not even think
about it. It just doesn't matter.