Rock and Redemption
The blonde Indigo Girl on songwriting, happiness and coming out

On a road trip to Graceland last summer, my sister and I discovered that the only things we had in common were a sullen disposition, and a passion for the Indigo Girls. What could have turned into 3,000 miles of unbroken silence was salvaged by repeated playings of the Indigos tapes we'd brought along.

During this cross-country debacle, I was curious whether we were attracted to the same things about this band we were clinging to like a lifeline. As teenagers, she had sat in her frilly, pink room and listened to Journey; I had sat in my bean bag and brooded over Janis Ian. Could it be that my sister liked the Indigos' crafted, literate lyrics? Was she moved by their soaring, yin and yang harmonies? Or was she just, like me, desperate to hear anything that wasn't cynical?

In 1989, when the Indigo Girls sang I will not be a pawn for the prince of darkness any longer, it was clear that the '80s were finally over. The release of their eponymous album, signaled that the alienating glorification of form over content that typified the decade was fading like the memory of a bad Ronald Reagan film. It wasn't that Amy Ray and Emily Saliers were the first songwriters to unplug and strip down to something of value, they were just the first who redeemed my point of view.

To send this message of redemption or otherwise, songwriting, like all good writing, relies on powerful words. It is, after all, the ownership of lyrics, not music, which predicates the distribution of royalties. And while you can attach meaningful poetry to dance tunes (as Donna Summer tried to before she gave up disco for Jesus, or to grunge, as Kurt Cobain did so successfully, until he just gave up) the folk song is the arena where white girls produce their best work.

"To me, words are the most important thing," said Emily Saliers, the blonde Indigo, in her soft Georgia drawl during a recent interview. "That's why it's continually tortuous to write songs because you have this idea, or this expression, and a lot of times it just won't translate. By the time it gets to the pen it's been diluted or lost half of the impact it had when it was in your head."

Emily the daughter of a Theology professor, and Amy Ray, a religions major, are known for verses heavily laden with biblical imagery. This spirituality at the foundation of their personalities elevates their dark explorations of unrequited love, political corruption and childhood fears from the depressing morass of potential self-pity. Secure yourself to heaven/hold on tight the night has come/fasten up your earthly burdens/you have just begun. Everything may indeed be fucked up, but there is a way out.

With Swamp Ophelia, their sixth album, they have settled into success and the problems and rewards that brings. Amy writes in the song "Fugitive," of the lack of privacy that plagues her relationships. Are they coming for us, cameras or guns, we don't know which, but we gotta run. For Emily, whose heartbreaking ballads have been about lost love, there is less desperation and angst on this latest release. Happiness has dulled her edge.

"It's much easier for me to write in pain than it is in joy, and I have a lot of joy in my life. I have a really good life, and basically I'm very happy. But I'm sensitive to pain. All you have to do is open the newspaper and read about Africa and it should be plenty to write about.

"I don't have that much to draw from in terms of upsetting things that are happening in my personal life. What's more upsetting is what's happening in the world. "

Political involvement, specifically playing benefits for environmental and gay causes are a large part of the Girls' work.

"Honestly doing benefits is a way to give back," says Saliers. "It stems from the way we were raised and the intrinsic belief that we are responsible for other human beings. Amy and I are not responsible for the world, but each human being is responsible for other human beings. Our time is limited. I believe that if we were home a lot more we would be doing other kinds of volunteer work, more hands-on stuff. Basically these are just issues that just tug at our hearts.

"Also we make sure that we vote and stay politically active, because I don't feel that most people realize the power that they have. Amy and I are firm believers in the power of people to make change."

In her new song about the holocaust, "This Train," Ray adds homosexuals to the mix of gypsies, queers and David's star, who are headed toward extermination in a Nazi concentration camp. Although the Indigos headlined at the gay and lesbian march on Washington in 1993, they have only recently "come out" in the press.

"We're definitely out," Emily says without hesitation. "We just did an article in "Out" magazine, and then everybody was like, 'oh they just came out.' But, in fact, we've been open for so long in our personal lives that we hadn't really thought about it.

"Amy and I believe that you need to be honest about yourself. Because our whole message is about self-esteem and being true and all those sorts of things. I hope the day comes when sexuality is no longer an issue and that there's no intrigue factor, and that we can all get on with being musicians, or whatever. But I think that's still a little ways off. This is just our part of being open about being gay. Hopefully it will help improve things. The more that people do come out the less of an issue it's going to be in the long run."


This Summer the Indigo Girls are on tour to promote the complicated Swamp Ophelia. This record, with its hard-to-pigeonhole sound illustrates more than ever the differences in Saliers and Ray's partnership. While Emily has continued to write her Joni Mitchell inspired ballads, Amy has strapped on an electric guitar and stretched for a raunchier sound.

"I think neither one of us is afraid of satisfying ourselves creatively, and if we want to do side projects then I think we'll feel free to do that. But I think there will always be the things in our lives that we do together. I can't see just stopping playing together, because, you know, me on my own is too much of me, and Amy on her own is too much of Amy."

It is the sum of their parts then that may explain their equal popularity with men and women, straights and gays. In the mid-'80s, their smart acoustic-type songs would not have attracted a major label and a mainstream audience. But as we survive the fall of materialism and search for substance in the rubble, it will be the philosophical musings of artists we turn to for encouragement. For some it will be Nirvana. For my sister and me it will be Amy and Emily.


The Indigo Girls play the Greek Theater in Berkeley Sat, Aug 20 at 8pm and Sun, Aug 21 at 3pm.

Appeared in "SF Weekly" August 17, 1994 © Suzanne Rush 2001