When I was a teen, I had a need to find artists that were kind of queer. There was something about the androgynous rockers of the late 80s, the makeup-laden post punk and goth artists of the early 90s, and even a few queerbaiting industrial dudes-they attracted me like a moth to a flame. I dreamed of being an artist myself, but being poor with a family of non-artists, trapped by evangelical christianism where I learned that rock n' roll was a thing of the devil, I had no place in the artistic world. So I lived vicariously through musicians, but never stopped to question why it was the queer ones that really resonated with me. I guess I thought it was a way to be rebellious against my strict upbringing, but I would find out there was more to it.


My proverbial "egg-cracking" happened when I read Laura Jane Grace's book Tranny. Never had a rock artist been so open about what it's like to be trans. When I finished it, I came down crying, and at the age of 34, discovered I was trans. Sure, I had no idea how I was trans, but I felt undone right then and there, and I knew I was forever changed. 8 years have passed since that watershed moment, and I know myself so much better. I fought for who I am. Despite losing everything and everyone in this journey, I came to a place where I am owning my voice. There's immense power in understanding how you identify with an artist beyond simple admiration: seeing their victories makes you a little less scared of trying whatever it is you're scared of doing. You realize: maybe you're not an impostor after all, and maybe there's a place for you under the sun. 


Back then, LJG came out in the "trans tipping point", a moment of overwhelming acceptance of LGBTQ+ people (as the media would claim it), but it has gotten so much worse for us since then. With visibility, came hatred, and the more hatred we face, the more meaningful it is to see other queer folks defying that and winning. 


Last Friday (10/4/2024) was a special moment of affirmation for queer people here in Madison, Wisconsin. The all-trans band Kat and The Hurricane released their debut studio album Got It Out with a concert at the High Noon Saloon. Even though I am not an usual listener of pop music, Kat, Ben and Alex are very talented musicians who are putting their whole heart into it, and I fully support them. I went to do what the band wanted us to do: to celebrate healing. I was there to get drunk, to dance, to look back at where I came from, to release and to hope. I don't go to therapy, but music photography for sure has been the healing of the child that thought there was "no place in the artistic world for me". The band played flawlessly, mixing in emotional songs with heavy themes with lighter moments, engaging the crowd with an energy that I would call happy and proud. They did an amazing job of playing through their powerful message while also putting our souls to dance.


Yeah, of course I had to take some photographs. I'm blaming the new camera that I brought in for my struggles with finding the right colors for my edits for one entire week, but the answer was always there in my face (the trans flag colors). So here is the album of photos from the show:

Plug


If you would like to support Kat and The Hurricane, their album and merch are available on Bandcamp: https://katandthehurricane.bandcamp.com/. I have to mention they have the best merch (you have to go see the band on tour to get this):

Openers


Openers for the night were the band Secret Menu who delivered a groovy show of funky rhythms on a backdrop of indie rock, followed by the hip hop artist Kilo who started her set from the crowd and gave a bold, electrifying performance, and lastly the fuzz/garage band Lunar Moth, who were full of charm and attitude and played songs that were just the right amount of heavy to get the audience pumped for KATH. Here are some photos from their sets: