For the moment, the Four Bitchin’ Babes are stars. On stage at Governors State University in the far south suburbs, Megon McDonough, Sally Fingerett, Debi Smith and Camille West are performing round-robin style and harmonizing like angels, while singing original material that runs the gamut from slice-of-life vignettes to pathos to off-the-wall humor.
McDonough, the group’s golden throat, sings the affecting “My Father,” which unflinchingly tries to understand the root of her father’s black moods. Smith, who adds a bit of country twang to the proceedings, jokes that the show is a “traveling pajama party.” Fingerett whips out a pair of yellow rubber gloves as a prop for her song “Breakfast Dishes” and quips, “I come from a long line of medicated women. I have a teenage daughter, and my postpartum lasted until she was 11.” And West, the clown of the group, offers up one song about a trucker who spills 20,000 pounds of Viagra into a town’s water supply and another castigating women’s bathing suit designers for marketing what is in essence “fanny floss.”
Twenty-four hours or so later, the applause and the glare of the spotlights will be forgotten and all four women, who range in age from 43 to 46, will be back to being moms and, with the exception of the divorced Fingerett, wives.
“It’s not easy to juggle this,” says Chicago area native McDonough, mother of an 8-year-old son, of the 50 shows a year the group performs on the road. “The guilt factor alone will get to you, especially if there’s a problem at home and you’re thinking, `I should be there to handle that.’ You really have to let go and just do your job on the road. I’m sure men who travel experience the same thing, but I think women feel compelled to be home. But you have to get over it.
“I think all of us realize how fortunate we are to be living in the year 2000. We’re moms and we’re able to travel and to perform our music. That is remarkable when you consider that not that long ago women didn’t really have that choice.”
Adds Fingerett, who lives in Columbus, Ohio, and has a 14-year-old daughter, “We go to work, we go home and we have twice as much to do and half as much time to do it in. We’re just like everyone else, really. It’s just that we happen to make our living on stage.”
The origin of the Four Bitchin’ Babes was a 1990 thematic compilation album, “On a Winter’s Night,” spearheaded by noted folkie Christine Lavin. Lavin asked three of the other artists on the album, McDonough, Fingerett and Patty Larkin, to join her for a tour, in which the women would perform their own songs while backed vocally and instrumentally by the others. The only thing missing was a name for the ensemble.
“The name was suggested by our agent’s son, who said, `It’s a really bitchin’ idea,’ ” says McDonough. “Apparently the word `bitchin’ was really making a comeback then. We wanted to let people know that we’re having fun. We’re contemporary folk singers, but we lean pretty heavily toward humor. So the name just stuck. Some people love the name. In other places we have to leave out the word `Bitchin,’ so we’re billed as just `The Babes.’ “
The Babes were an immediate hit with audiences and critics alike. The first of four albums, the live recording “Buy Me, Bring Me, Take Me: Don’t Mess My Hair . . . Life According to Four Bitchin’ Babes,” was also released in 1990. Larkin eventually left to pursue a successful solo career, and was replaced by Julie Gold, author of the Bette Midler hit “From a Distance.” After a brief tenure, Gold was succeeded by Smith. Group founder Lavin–the group’s comedian–departed two years ago to concentrate on a radio show, writing children’s books and freelance work for the Washington Post. But before she left, she recommended the like-minded West as her replacement.
“Camille came out to Columbus to Sally’s house where we were meeting and we really liked her,” says McDonough. “Her sense of humor is really out of this world. It really worked, and the transition was pretty seamless.”
The current lineup has recorded two albums, the most recent being the live “Gabby Road.” The group’s fifth album, “Beyond Bitchin’,” is slated for release in May.
While they work effortlessly as a team, the Babes are distinctly different personalities. Described by the others as the group’s “cosmic muffin,” McDonough is into things like astrology, feng shui and the latest new-age maxims.
“Sometimes they all roll their eyes at me, but usually they tolerate me,” says McDonough. “Debi is the one with the dry humor. She’s `Steady Babe’ or `Grounded Babe’ to me. Sally is `Blues-rocker Babe.’ She doesn’t take any guff and is also `Awesome Business Babe’ as well. And Camille is `Wacky Babe.’ If she was any further out she’d be back, as they say.”
A veteran of road bands before she was out of her teens, McDonough says that being on the road with women is easier than traveling with male musicians.
“It’s way easier,” she says. “Everybody is very intuitive. Everybody kind of knows when to make themselves scarce and when to ask, `Do you want to talk?’ “
“There’s no comparison,” says Fingerett, who led blues bands when she still lived in Chicago. “Being on the road with women it’s like, `Honey, can you hold my purse? Can you save me a seat?’ There are certain things you can do on the road together. Someone always has an aspirin, someone always has a Midol, someone always has a lipstick or an extra pair of shoes.
“You know what it is? There are women who twice a year will get together with girlfriends and go stay in a hotel and shop to connect. We get to do that for a living. We eat out and we sleep in. And then we play on stage and they pay us. It’s just the most remarkable thing ever. And I believe that the joy that we feel on stage translates through the music.”
While both McDonough and Fingerett take pains to describe the Babes’ show as “man-friendly,” it’s obvious from their material and from the audience’s reaction at the Governors State show that women are the Babes’ main target audience. Fingerett mentions that it’s not uncommon for entire bridge clubs and bowling teams to come to one of their shows on a girls’ night out.
“They sing about things like being a mom, having a mom and frustrations with relationships,” says Kathy O’Malley, co-host of the popular “Kathy and Judy Show,” which the Babes have appeared on several times. “I think women are really touched by them and by what they sing about.”
“Our priorities have changed, as have the priorities of a lot of women on the planet,” says McDonough. “We’re singing to a whole generation of women who don’t have a lot of musical acts geared for them. I think we’re filling that void, and that the women who come to see us know that’s true.”
“I think we represent this new generation of women–the feminist revolution at its very best,” adds Fingerett. “We support each other, we adore each other, we complement each other. It’s very yin and yang. We pick up each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And that’s what makes it such a great group.
“I’ve often said that we’re the best friends from childhood who didn’t meet until we were in our 40s. For me personally, I feel like I’m finally in the sorority I was never asked to join in college.”
A TASTE OF WHAT YOU MIGHT HEAR. . .
The Four Bitchin’ Babes will perform Friday at the sold-out “Kathy and Judy Show” convention at the Chicago Hilton and Towers, and at 8 p.m. Saturday at Centre East, 9501 N. Skokie Blvd., Skokie, 847-673-6300, $30. Until then, a few lyrics to ponder:
“Wild Berries” by Sally Fingerett
A young girl on the highway
Stranded in the snow
December south of Cleveland, Ohio
I’m stopping out of pity
For a stranger I don’t know
Just a young girl on the highway
Like me so long ago
I check my rearview mirror
And I’m taken by surprise
By silver strands of hair
In the bangs around my eyes
“L.A.F.F. (Ladies Against Fanny Floss)” by Camille West
Swimsuits abound for the 98-pounder
Whose legs measure five feet
Here’s a fine idea: try a line this year
For women who actually eat
Not for half-naked nymphs found posing between
The pages, of course, of a sports magazine,
But swimsuits for those of us more likely seen
Between pages of Bon Appetit
