Concerts

The Baroness Rules

San Francisco's Charlotte Kaufman, whose nom de plume is the Baroness, is an exemplar of a rare species: the female DJ. But even though she's the only woman in the Hardkiss Family collective, a group that's considered legendary by many participants in global electronica, neither of her names is of...
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San Francisco’s Charlotte Kaufman, whose nom de plume is the Baroness, is an exemplar of a rare species: the female DJ. But even though she’s the only woman in the Hardkiss Family collective, a group that’s considered legendary by many participants in global electronica, neither of her names is of the household variety.

Why not? For one thing, she operates in a part of the dance-music underground that has yet to penetrate the consciousness of middle America. Another factor, though, is her gender. Most of those involved in the subterranean scene put up a facade of liberalism, but if you look behind it, you’ll discover that DJ culture is too frequently a boys’ club that’s extremely difficult to crack.

Fortunately, the times seem to be changing. In the tradition of the riot grrrls who shook up grunge several years ago, women DJs are beginning to turn the tables on their male counterparts, and Kaufman is among those leading the way. Her current release, The Royal Treatment, is a remarkable mix album that immediately establishes her as a force in the dance universe.

Kaufman has always loved music; as she relates, “I’ve collected it since I was a little girl–and as a teenager growing up on the South Side of Chicago, I was exposed to dance-music culture at underground funk and disco parties. But while all my girlfriends were hanging out with their boyfriends, I would watch the DJ spin.” Still, she didn’t envision a career as a dance maven–at least not at first. She was interested in journalism, but her ambition to become a professional scribe was derailed by the onset of carpal tunnel syndrome. Casting about for a new direction, she moved to San Francisco, home of an incredibly rich and varied dance environment. Her initial forays into mixing were tentative: “I was on disability, hanging out in clubs, and had some free time on my hands,” she explains. But her abilities were such that she was soon working as a DJ for the Broun Fellinis, a pioneering jazz/hip-hop outfit. Before long, Kaufman recalls, “I realized that I had the same passion for DJing that I once had for writing. I had that kind of excitement where you don’t care if you have a date for a year, and you don’t care what party is going on; all you care about is making these two records mix together.”

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As time wore on, Kaufman began to realize that even in San Francisco, a community that prides itself on diversity, there was little female representation in her chosen field. “Eight years ago I was one of the only female DJs around anywhere,” she confirms. “And part of the reason it took me so long to establish myself is because I’m a woman. In a club environment, chicks are girlfriends; they don’t spin the records. If someone’s younger brother is hanging around the DJ, showing interest in how the process works, they would be taught–there would be an apprenticeship. But if someone’s younger sister was hanging around, that wouldn’t happen. That’s how it operates. Guys teach their ‘table skills to their little brothers and promoters give gigs to their buddies and so on.”

Clearly, Kaufman views this situation as problematic. But she’s reluctant to point fingers or place blame. “It’s a weird issue,” she says, “because no one wants to admit they are sexist, and no one is running around denigrating women. But it’s obvious that the vast majority of the players are male–and when you are at a party or dancing at the club, no one wants to deal with issues like sexism. You just want to have a good time.”

Nonetheless, Kaufman wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. So in 1992 she participated in Your Sister’s Party, a roaming event (meaning a happening that migrates from venue to venue) that helped garner attention for other talented female jocks, including Polywog, DRC, Tracy and Jan Cooley. The concept was subsequently put on the back burner, but Kaufman and Polywog recently relit the fire again, this time under the shortened appellation “Sister.” “Now that there is some serious press attention being focused on women DJs, we wanted to start the party back up again, to provide a space for new, up-and-coming mixers alongside established talents like ourselves.” She adds, “The Sister party is for everybody, male and female. The original intent was not to place emphasis on any particular style of music, but a high concentration of the new women DJs are playing jungle.”

Like Tranny Shack, a regular transvestite showcase, Sister is credited by scenesters with keeping San Francisco in the forefront of progressive nightlife trends worldwide. But it’s hardly the only major project in which Kaufman is involved. Sony recently signed a contract with the Hardkiss Family and with group co-founder Scott Hardkiss as a solo artist. Hence, Family members no longer need to worry about manufacturing and distributing their own vinyl releases. But the deal doesn’t preclude Kaufman from maintaining her connection with two of the Bay Area’s most prestigious dance-music organizations: City of Tribes, whose focus is electronica of a particularly organic and/or ethnic sort, and ZoëMagik, a Tribes spinoff that specializes in house music. The Royal Treatment, issued by ZoëMagik and credited to the Baroness, is Kaufman’s full-length debut as a mixer, and she feels fortunate to have been given the opportunity to make it. “I became a DJ because I never considered myself talented enough to pick up an instrument and learn how to play it,” she concedes. “But today’s technology has been revolutionary, and I’ve been able to realize a lifelong ambition to create my own music, in a way.”

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Made in conjunction with Kaufman’s partner, Mani Rosa, at a home studio set up for just such a purpose, Treatment features nine remixes that are of resolutely high quality. First up is Gavin Hardkiss’s revision of Beasts of Paradise’s “Red Rock,” a speedy electro-house song with psychedelic sound bites. Among the highlights that follow are “Give Away My Fear,” which finds Dianna Trimble’s lucid club vocal astride an easy-does-it drum program; Kenneth Newby’s “Sirens 1,” a mild drum-and-bass take on Middle Eastern sonics; and Stellamara’s “Kereshme” as remixed by 9000 Drummers, which features Broun Fellini Kevin Carnes. But Kaufman saves the best for last: “Infinitely Gentle Blows,” assembled and mixed by Scott Hardkiss, is less a closing number than it is a spiritual epiphany. Kaufman turns what was originally a brief snippet into a transcendent composition by stretching it over a four-by-four house beat that gives it structural cohesion, then looping female vocal samples into a mass of alternating harmonics and shimmering keyboards. The result is so beautiful that it’s probably spinning in heaven’s discotheque right now. “I love that track,” Kaufman declares. “Scott said he believes it came out so well because he did it for me, out of love.”

That’s how Kaufman operates as well. She didn’t set out to break down barriers by her very presence, but that’s the way things have worked out. “Things are definitely starting to change now that you see female DJs everywhere, in every city,” she says. “We’ve started our own culture, because those girls dancing out on the floor saw us up there spinning.” To illustrate her point, she offers an anecdote that leaves this firm-voiced woman practically quavering: “A woman approached me in Seattle and said she had watched one of my sets in San Francisco and then went out and bought turntables the next day.

“Hearing that was inspirational for me, and it gave a lot of meaning to my job as a DJ,” she goes on. “I mean, this is club life, and sometimes you wonder if you’re living a vapid existence; I’m not exactly walking on the moon. But those kinds of affirmations from young women really give me hope.”

The Baroness. 9 p.m. Monday, February 9, “Skunk Motel” at the Snake Pit, 608 East 13th Avenue, $2, 831-1234; 9 p.m. Tuesday, February 10, “So What!” at Ninth Avenue West, 99 West 9th Avenue, $5, 572-8006.

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