The Message Of International Women's Day? 'Lift Them Up': Women To The Front, Already!

To mark International Women’s Day, we offered a platform to three guiding lights of Australia’s music scene – Dallas Frasca, Candice Lorrae and Katie Noonan – to discuss how gender disparity has impacted their careers and the ways in which identifying as female has shaped, and limited, their experiences.   

We’ve been the underdogs, but there’s power in that” – Dallas Frasca 

“Wherever I can see an opportunity to lift a fellow artist – and, in particular, a woman – I see that as a core part of my responsibility as an artist” – Katie Noonan   

“I don’t feel women are valued enough in this industry” – Candice Lorrae

How old were you when you decided you wanted to pursue a career in music? 

Dallas Frasca: “I was about 18 when I realised music wasn’t just something I loved, it was something I had to do. I remember playing my first gig and knowing this was where I belonged. I’d cracked open a part of myself I didn’t even know existed. There was no plan B after that.”

Candice Lorrae: “Probably when I was seven years old. I’ve always done music – from a young age.” 

Nonmale role model roll call

DF: “There wasn’t enough. I had to dig for them. I grew up idolising women who owned their space: Janis Joplin, Joan Jett, Ann Wilson, Aretha Franklin, and later, Suze DeMarchi – they were lifelines for me. But honestly, they were few and far between in the rock scene. That’s why I fight so hard now – to be that person for the next generation.”

CL: “Whitney Houston [laughs]. I’m from Darwin – and as a child, the biggest band at the time was Yothu Yindi. I just remember how music made me feel. And all I wanted to do was dance, sing, and I would do that in the living room on a daily basis.

When I was seven, my mum and dad split up, then mum and I made the move from Darwin to Perth. On the drive down from Darwin, we pulled up on the side of the road, and there was this pile of junk, and in the junk there was a cassette tape of Whitney Houston’s The Bodyguard soundtrack. We put it in the car stereo and played I Will Always Love You on repeat. Her voice was like – I’d never heard a female artist like this and I just knew, then and there, I wanted to be a singer and I just strived towards that my entire life. 

“When I was around ten years old, I started thinking about making music and writing songs. I started tinkering around with the keyboard and working with one of those dual cassette players to record guitar and vocals. This led me to enrolling in a music course at Abmusic at the age of 16.

“I got gifted an eight-track recorder and then upgraded to Micrologic – one of those old box computers – and then technology just evolved so fast over those five years I was there. I’ve gone on to using ProTools and Reason and most recently Ableton – it’s been this evolution [laughs]. But, yeah, I found my flow in music production.  

“Just recently, I received a fellowship from Creative Australia and I’ve also received support from VMDO [Victorian Music Development Office] to upgrade my studio, and also support from the City of Yarra to help pay the lease on my studio, The Candy Suite Studio, to deliver my program in training First Nations women in electronic music production, as well as just opening the studio in support for them.

“Not everyone is into the long hours sitting at a computer making beats, so some just need help recording. I found that women just love being in the presence of other women when writing and recording their music. So it’s been a real safe space and haven for a lot of women in the music community to come in and just have access, and it’s not costing them anything. It’s a cute little space downstairs at The Aviary Recording Studio, which I hope to expand in the near future. 

“I think expense just holds us back, especially as women, because we’ve got kids to support, families to support. So, the whole vision, for me, is to have a fully-funded studio that’s free access to use. 

“So, there’s a few albums in the works at the moment that I’ve been working on in the space. There’s some incredible artists using the space like Bumpy and Jessie Lloyd, and I’ve got Georgia Corowa coming down in May. Canisha’s working there and hopefully, very soon, Emma Donovan.

“The goal is to grow it into a fully-equipped professional recording studio, the first-ever First Nations music hub in Naarm that is led by women – it just needs to be done. And I think the recording experiences are so different from being in the room with men, because women can open up to other women and talk about things that are uncomfortable to talk to men about. 

“I know that the work I’m doing is important and it’s needed. There’s not many First Nations female electronic music producers in the recording industry. I’m overworked and there’s a high demand for more female producers.

“There’s so much opportunity for women to enter into that space, ‘cause it’s really male dominated. And I also find that a lot of musicians, artists and bands kinda overlook me because I’m a woman, and they’ve got this mindset to just go to all the fellas out there, and I’m just like, ‘Hey, I’ve got a full, legit studio space and I’ve recorded many albums…’ [laughs]. So, yeah! I feel like there is still quite a bit of work to be done.”

“The real thing was when I became a mum” 

Katie Noonan: “The real thing was when I became a mum and I realised, firstly: if you’re your own boss, which at that point I was lucky enough to be, I could call the shots quite a bit. I took my kids everywhere. We were a gypsy family. The father of my children was incredibly supportive, and we just went everywhere together as a family until the kids went to school. Unlike most workplaces, I could take my kids to work, they came backstage, I breastfed them on TV sets, fed them in recording studios, and they came to the studio. 

“I made my first solo album [Skin] between three and eight months pregnant with my second boy, Jonah, and Dexter was one. So we had our hands full – we had two under 18 months. And I remember my record company said, ‘We’re gonna send you on a songwriting trip.’ And because I was young, and trying to find my identity as a solo artist, I went, ‘Okay, I’ll go.’ And it was the worst possible idea.

“If there was a woman in the record company at that point, they would’ve said, ‘Hey, I just wanna let you know, postnatal exhaustion, postnatal depression and international travel and a newborn do not work. So, this is not a good idea’ [laughs]. But we did it anyway, and it was a disastrous songwriting trip; none of the songs were used, except one that I co-wrote with my friend Sia.

“And this was because Sia was in LA and I was coming home via LA, and I literally just reached out to her personally and said, ‘Can I stay at your place?’ And she said, ‘Yeah, let’s go in the studio and write a song.’ And we did. But all the other stuff my record company set up was – you know, I was just way too exhausted. 

“So, that was writing for the record – I had newborn Dexter. And then when I was promoting the album, I had Jonah – he was a baby. But I breastfed both of them up until at least one, or beyond. And the promo team were predominantly young women who – they just didn’t understand that breastfeeding is rather integral to the life of the baby. They were like, ‘Oh, can’t you just do it later?’ And I was like, ‘No, if I don’t feed him, he dies! I’m his sole food source, so this is a non-negotiable’ [laughs].

“And, you know, this is not quite 20 years ago – it was 2006, when music mattered much, much, much, much more in the media. So, I would have promo days for weeks where I would have back-to-back interviews from nine in the morning to five [pm], chatting with all the music media that used to exist – which doesn’t anymore – and doing all of the TV interview opportunities of which none of them exist anymore. 

“So, it was a very different time where promo was very busy. And it’s all part of the job – I love it – but I just remember having a conversation. And I remember the CEO was a man and he had children, and I just felt like going, ‘Come on dude, you understand this.’ But he probably didn’t.

“So, that’s why I’ve made a decision in the last almost-20 years, since becoming a mum, to actively promote women and actively support women and, in particular, working mothers and mums coming back to work after having children. Because it is hard and it’s full-on and they do need extra support. 

“So, for example, I took Zoe Hauptmann – who’s an incredible bassist, she plays with Missy Higgins, Ian Moss and all sorts of incredible musicians – on her first tour as a mum. It was her baby’s first trip, ever, and I remember there was one day where she was worried something was wrong. And she said, ‘I’ll try to make it to the gig,’ and I was like, ‘Sweetheart, you are not going to make it to the gig. This is your firstborn child, just stay with your baby and I’ll get a dep [stand-in] and we’ll just deal with it somehow.’

“And we did! We found someone in Adelaide who jumped up and we made it work, because I knew that – if that was me; you’d want to be a professional musician, but your first job is being a mum.

“And I’ve also actively taken women on the road with me in my band, or as the opening act. So I took Missy Higgins on one of her first-ever tours. I took Thelma Plum on one of her first-ever tours. I took Sahara Beck and lots of amazing musicians. I just do anything I can to support independent, Australian, female musicians and in particular mums who are coming back to work after the incredibly challenging journey of becoming a mum.

“Wherever I can see an opportunity to lift a fellow artist – and, in particular, a woman – I see that as a core part of my responsibility as an artist.” 

Any suggestions for venues keen to make mothers returning to the stage feel more comfortable and welcome?

KN: “It’s very different now, because everywhere is non-smoking – so that’s a win already [laughs]. But I think, basically, if you can provide a quiet space where a baby can have a nap, where you can put a bub down in an environment that’s relatively safe – without sharp corners and glass and all the other things that kids love to play with – that can be fantastic.

“But, look, yeah, anything to make a backstage space child-friendly would be fantastic, enabling your kids to come to soundcheck and all that kind of stuff. I mean, you can do that pretty much – I actually think the music industry is very family-friendly in that way. The hardest bit is touring. 

“So the problem is: once the kid’s over two, you have to buy a seat [for them on flights], which is the same price as an adult. And then you have to pay for two hotel rooms, or three hotel rooms or an apartment, but you’re still only making the same amount of money. Because we don’t get maternity leave, we don’t get health insurance, we don’t get any paid leave at all, we don’t get any leave at all! [laughs]. 

“So the challenge is that if you choose to tour as a family, fantastic, but just be ready to absorb the cost and invest that into your time with your children. It’s your choice to do that; I mean, if you’re breastfeeding, you’ve got no choice. And if you’re doing it as a single mum, I’ve got no idea how you fucking do it. I was incredibly lucky to have an incredibly supportive partner who was happy to be a full-time dad, because we basically went, ‘Well, we don’t want to put our kids in childcare. So who can make more money?’ And the answer was me, and that’s what we decided to do.”

The unfair shorter ‘shelf life’ female-identifying musicians face

DF: “I’ve heard this a lot: ‘Once you hit a certain age, they stop paying attention.’ But look at women like Tina Turner, Ann Wilson, Debbie Harry, Stevie Nicks – they never stopped. That’s proof that the whole ‘shelf life’ thing is just another lie designed to keep us small. I’m in this for life.

“Meanwhile, men can keep rocking into their seventies without anyone batting an eye. I’ve never bought into that. I’m here to prove that fire, passion and raw talent don’t have an expiry date. I mean, how good can you get if you stick with anything you’re passionate about?! Let’s GO!”

CL: “I feel like there needs to be more platforms for women in the industry on the live performance scale and in the recording space, just because there is so much incredible talent and women coming out of the woodwork. And just to be able to lean on other women is really good, as well. That’s why things like the AWMAs [Australian Women in Music Awards] have been a really powerful way of connecting with women, especially the older women in the industry. 

“But there needs to be more platforms for the younger women as well, because they’re thriving at the moment. And, yeah, I feel like there’s not enough support for First Nations women in music production – there’s not much of it at all. There’s a high demand for it. I would love to be able to just lean on other women to record, mix and master my album. But, yeah, it’s a very rare find and the women that I do know are overworked because there’s not enough of us.” 

KN: “I mean, you’re already over if you’re 20 now, apparently. So I do get annoyed. It’s a complex discussion. I think when we listen to the radio and the heritage acts – which are people like John Farnham, Jimmy Barnes, Daryl Braithwaite, The Angels, AC/DC, INXS, Midnight Oil – all lovely gents in their sixties and seventies. They did come up in an era where their sisters and mothers and aunties were not allowed to have a job and be married, because of the ‘marriage bar’ act [which was not removed until 1966]. And if you look at the successful women from that era, they were childless. So we’re talking about Chrissy Amphlett, Renée Geyer…

“And as Joni Mitchell famously discussed in her song Little Green – the first time she had sex, she fell pregnant. She was in art school and she was incredibly broke – and in freezing-cold Canada – and she was like, ‘I want to be an artist.’ And at that point it was a choice: you could not be a mother – certainly not a single mother – and be an artist. And in Australia, if you were a policewoman or a teacher or a nurse or a librarian – or any sort of public service job – it was illegal to work. A journalist for the ABC? You would be sacked the minute you got married. 

“So I think that systemic, cultural disadvantage towards women who chose to be married – and then, God forbid you should choose to be a mother, ‘cause then you were of course branded as a neglectful mother. Because basically the minute you got married, your job became being a wife and supporting your husband.

“And so I think the reason why we don’t have as many of those heritage acts [who are female], is because of that legislation that simply stopped women from being able to work and be mums and be married. It’s very different now, thankfully those laws – thanks to legends like Merle Thornton – were abolished. And now I really do think you can do anything you want to, if you’re a woman.” 

Mentoring towards better-supported femme futures  

CL: “I’ve had some incredible mentors. One, most recently, has been Jill Shelton. She’s been an incredible mentor, along with incredible black women that I look up to like Jessie Lloyd, Deline Briscoe and Kerry Kennell – they’ve been really good mentors for me over the years. There’s so many others that I can’t think of right now. 

“It’s taken years to build an incredible network of women around me, and young ones coming up just need to know that we’re all here. I’m always trying to connect the more established artists with the emerging artists, to talk to each other more and connect us. That's why I’m running the Singing Our Futures mentorship program, supported by the Archie Roach Foundation. We started it before Uncle Archie passed, and over the years we’ve expanded it and continued it on as part of his legacy.

“And in that program I focus on supporting women more, but I try to create an equal balance within the program. I connect each mentee with a mentor, like we’ve had Dan Sultan, Emily Wurramara, Emma Donovan, Dobby, Bumpy, Karise Eden and N’Fa Jones from Cool Out Sun – so we’ve had this incredible program that runs over a year where these emerging artists can connect and lean on the support of the more established, high-profile artists.  

“All I ever wanted to do as a young artist is seek advice and connect with the more established artists, but I felt like everyone had their own separate empires and no one was speaking to each other or supporting one another. But I feel like the more that women are getting into the space, the more these empires are opening up and the industry is talking to each other more – because of women.

“There’s room for everybody, and we just need more happening now as well in terms of platforms and events and gigs. ‘Cause as the talent expands, I feel like nothing else has expanded in terms of events and festivals yet. It’s sad to see a dying festival circuit, and live gigs are dying, and it’s like: how are people surviving? 

“It’s been a real struggle, just with technology these days and people not going out, and obviously the after effects of the pandemic. 

“I don’t feel I have an answer yet for how to make things work… but sometimes you’ve just gotta find a way. It’s a hustle and everyone’s just gotta find what other things they’re passionate about in the industry, and you’ve kind of gotta be juggling all of them at the same time, and whatever is not quite working at the time you put that on the back burner and then you hone in on the next thing. 

“But I have a lot of friends that want to quit or have a break for a few years, and I’m just like, ‘Don’t do that, maybe scale it back. Just keep working and chipping away at it, because I think if you quit altogether – or step out of the industry – it’s gonna be harder to come back’.”  

KN: “I’ve been personally mentoring a beautiful First Nations artist called Layla Havana – she just turned 16. I met her when she was 11 at my last-ever gig before the world went down. Yeah, I remember that night I met her clearly. Then I mentor – well, lots of kids, because I run a free music school on Gubbi Gubbi country in Eumundi, called Eumundi School Of Music. We’ve given about 250 free scholarships to kids for free quality music education, and this is our ninth year.

“When I moved to Gubbi Gubbi country – I’m a firm believer in the vital importance of quality music education for every child in Australia, and unfortunately it is a privilege of the wealthy, generally. And because my kids were in the state school system and, to be honest, at the time it was pretty dire, I decided to start my own school. So I’ve mentored lots of kids through that, and lots of them are at the Con [Queensland Conservatorium of Music] now and they’re working professionally and touring and that gives me no greater joy.

“I feel that if you’re lucky enough to be a full-time artist, as I have been – and when I say luck, that’s been with a fuck-tonne of hard work and dedication and discipline et cetera – I think it’s very important to give back.” 

Have you ever been patronised by male techs/producers who assume they know more than you purely based on gender?  

DF: “Oh, too many times to count! You rock up to soundcheck, and they assume you don’t know your own gear. It has been a regular occurrence for men to be adjusting my pedals and amp settings on stage. Now, I just smile, let them underestimate me, and then blow the roof off the place. I don’t waste energy proving myself anymore – I always tour with my trusted crew.”

CL: “There’s rude and condescending behaviour from most sound engineers, which always makes me feel anxious during soundchecks. At most times, I tend to get ignored and I have to go through my fellow male bandmates to tell the sound guy what I need.”  

Do you think there’s still an unfair emphasis on a female musican’s appearance and how they dress? 

DF: “Absolutely. There have been countless times when people focused more on what I was wearing than on what I was playing. But I’ve made a promise to myself: I dress for me – not for the industry, not for the audience. If I feel powerful, that’s what matters. And if it ruffles feathers, good.”

CL: [supplied via email, post-interview] “It's been 25 years in music and I had to dig deep into my memories. It's strange that we put these things in our subconscious, but they are the very thing that causes our insecurities today as women. I do remember one man, when I was a young artist, telling me I needed to lose weight and that he could help me with that. I've also had a lot of comments made about my big boobs, which is why I tend to keep them covered.” 

KN: “The record company would give me grief about my weight and blah-blah-blah, and I was like, ‘Fuck you, I am comfortable with my curves and this is who I am.’ And there were other people in the band who were not skinny, who were male, and nothing was said to them. So that was one thing. I thought, ‘Oh, that’s interesting.’ But also being the frontperson you have a different set of pressures that the instrumentalists do not have.” 

Do you feel like non-male musicians have to be better than men to stand out and get any kind of recognition in the first place?

DF: “Yes. And it’s exhausting. But at the same time, it’s made me who I am. Women in this industry don’t just play well, we play with everything we’ve got because we have to. We’ve had to be louder, stronger, sharper – just to be seen. We’ve been the underdogs, but there’s power in that.

“That said, I do think things are shifting. The music industry in Australia has taken some big steps forward, and we’re seeing a wave of powerhouse [female-identifying] artists coming through – ones who don’t have to scream as loud to claim their space. There’s something beautiful about that. A rising tide of fierce, unapologetic feminine energy that’s carving out a new path. And that’s a future I want to be part of.”

CL: “Yep, I don’t stop working. People ask me, ‘How’d you get to where you are now?’ I’m like, ‘I just don’t stop working.’ And you can’t! You can’t stop working, because you have to work so much harder than men.”

Are there times where you’ve been the only female on the tour bus/in the dressing room? How have you navigated that?

DF: “Oh, absolutely. Most of my career, I’ve been the only woman in the room, and while that comes with its challenges, it's also helped me grow stronger and more confident in who I am. Watching my mum stand in her power, no matter who was in the room, taught me to do the same. I’ve definitely been told I can be intimidating, but I’ve learned to embrace that – it’s a reflection of my strength, not a weakness. It says more about them than it does me.

“I’ve also discovered the power of building strong, respectful connections with others. You give respect and demand it in return, and finding allies is key. When you do connect with incredible women along the way, HOLD ON TIGHT – supporting each other and thriving together.”

Heading in the right direction 

KN: “The first Hottest 100 that I was in, I think it was maybe 2000 or 2001 or something: I was the only Australian female singer in the Hottest 100. That was it. And then the next year, I think it was me and Ella Hooper from Killing Heidi. And that was it. And obviously that pendulum has shifted fantastically the other way. And now the biggest superstars in the world are female. I mean, Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, Billie Eilish – all the megastars now seem to be a female majority, which is fucking fantastic. 

“When I started out, that certainly was not the case. And there were obviously women in the Hottest 100, but it was people like Björk and PJ Harvey and Tori Amos – international artists. But now, thankfully, that’s changed a huge amount.” 

Have you ever experienced sexual harassment from people in positions of power across the course of your career?

DF: “Yes, I have. And it’s terrifying to talk about because, for a long time, we were made to feel like speaking out would hurt our careers more than theirs. But the more we break that silence, the more we reclaim our power. It’s a systemic issue, but, by speaking up, we take away their power. The industry is changing – maybe too slowly, but it is changing.”

CL: “No, I just know friends have. I feel constantly under threat when I’m in the music industry space, gigging at festivals and even at industry networking events, and instantly – as a woman – I put up a wall. And I just can’t really build relationships with men, because I guess some of them have made me feel a bit uncomfortable over time. 

“Because the majority of the industry is run by men, it’s hard to elevate myself as an artist and producer. I feel I have to tiptoe around and be careful with how I act and how I dress and what I say. And, just thinking back, I do feel like I’m not good enough, you know? I don’t feel women are valued enough in this industry.” 

Has there been sexual assault at any of your gigs – either on or off stage – and how was it dealt with?

DF: “Yes. I’ve witnessed it happen in the crowd and experienced it firsthand, and it's devastating. In the past, I didn’t have the language to address it, but now, I will stop shows to call it out and I always will. Music should be a safe space for everyone. It’s on all of us to ensure that it is. No one should ever feel unsafe at a show.”

CL: “I haven’t been around it, because I’ve always had this intuition to be like, ‘No, I’m not gonna do business there ‘cause I know that’s not a space for me.’ So I always spend my time dedicated to creating safe spaces, or only taking on work that I know is gonna suit me and my values, and know that it’s gonna be safe. But, yeah, I have heard some shocking things from friends over the years.”

What are some of the most frustrating barriers you’ve come up against along the way – to do with gender – in terms of career progression?

DF: “The constant underestimation; like we have to keep proving that we belong. I’ve been told to ‘tone it down’, be ‘more likable’, ‘not be so aggressive’ in my playing. 

“Often you don’t see women or female-led bands headlining festivals. Instead, they’re consistently slotted in as the opener – often playing before lesser-known, all-male bands; like experience and skill suddenly hold less weight when you’re a woman.

“And then there’s the assumption that if a woman is up front – especially in her late forties – she’s past her prime instead of maybe doing The Best Work Of Her Life.  

“But, you know what? While they’re busy underestimating me, I’m busy proving them wrong.”

CL: “There is a lot of stuff happening out there for women in the music production space, but it’s only within our bubble. It’s not crossing over to the wider industry. The biggest challenge is that I’m overlooked a lot as an artist or producer and I feel like a lot of women feel that way too, especially older women. It becomes challenging when you get older.”

KN: “I was in a band [george] with four fellas, so, in a way, perhaps being the only girl may have even worked to my advantage. I don’t know, because I can’t see from the outside in.” 

How can we help more women build sustainable careers in the music industry? Any suggestions?

DF: “I don’t have all the answers, but here’s what I know: if we want to build a culture that truly supports women and values what we bring to the table, that’s the starting point. We’ve got organisations like One Of One and the Australian Women in Music Awards (AWMAs) smashing the walls down for us.

“From the studio to the stage, we need women leading the charge and the industry needs to reflect the incredible talent out there. It’s about mentorship – lifting up the next generation, showing them the ropes and tearing down the bullshit barriers that keep too many of us out of the game. When we stand together, we are stronger. Lift them up.”

CL: “For sure. I’ve always been a believer of women supporting women and creating a big part of our own industry within the industry, you know what I mean? The only way I feel like I’ve been able to succeed in my career [is with] the help of other women.

“If I didn’t have these women in my life, I don’t think I’d be where I am today. So the women that I work with are always willing to lend a hand and give advice. I get women that reach out to me, and they’re like, ‘Oh, I’ve been really wanting to reach out for months, but I’ve been really scared.’ And I’m like, ‘Why delay your career?’ you know? Women just need to speak to women and reach out.”

KN: “I think the greatest power is in standing together. So anything we can do to come together and empower the sisterhood. Seek out fellow sisters, and support your sisters and aunties and mothers and grandmothers and nieces. And bond together and do anything you can to empower that womanhood, because we are still fighting the systemic disadvantage. 

“Own your feminism in whatever way you want. There’s room for everyone and no one has a story like yours, and only you can tell your story and only you have your voice. And there is a seat for everyone at the table.”

“We’ve got a long way to go.”

KN: “With my touring, I’ve missed many, many key moments [with my children] that I really wished I didn’t have to and I’ll always have that mother‘s guilt which, no matter how much you try to talk yourself out of it, is still there from a societal and systemic [viewpoint].

“Thankfully I had a partner who was not emasculated by being a stay-at-home dad, but it was also a bit annoying because people were like, ‘Oh my God, he’s so amazing!’ And I was like, ‘Yeah, he’s great. But if he was a woman, I don’t think you’d be making so much fuss,’ you know? Then it’s just like, ‘Oh, you’re a mum’ [laughs]. And so we’ve got a long way to go.”