By the time Juliana Hatfield had reached her mid-20s, she’d become the poster girl for ’90s indie rock. She was looked upon as the thinking person’s alternative to the riot-grrrl phenomenon, and the future seemed rosy. Hatfield had formed revered combo the Blake Babies, launched a red-hot solo career, played bass on the breakthrough Lemonheads album and gained national attention when she told Interview magazine she was still a virgin and wasn’t too worried about it. The backlash from those without much of an attention span was inevitable. In the ensuing years, Hatfield has honed her art and produced a wealth of stirring, self-confident albums. Peace & Love, out next week on her Ye Olde label, is an utterly sincere revelation that proves well worth the wait. Hatfield will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our exclusive excerpt from her 2008 memoir and our brand new Q&A with her.
Hatfield: Not all of German director/producer/screenwriter/cameraman/editor/production designer Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s films are great, but they are all interesting—and interesting to look at. The women are especially fascinating creatures, including (and sometimes especially) the unbeautiful ones. Ingrid Caven in Mother Küsters Goes To Heaven, with her thin line of eyebrow and her red lips and her skirt suits and scarves, is a vision of fading worldweary loveliness. Fassbinder’s women have such great style—old, young, bourgeois, working class, bohemian. Who else but Fassbinder would have the female anarchist pointing her big gun at the enemy while wearing a fur around her neck? (Kind of like Patty Hearst/Tania in her beret and peacoat during the SLA bank holdup.) Video after the jump.