We spoke with them about why they make music, and what obstacles the music industry, and society at large, have thrown in their paths. It’s time to take stock of this vibrant moment and honor these artists by spotlighting the force and elegance of their work. Often, male-fronted indie bands have begun to feel rote or even parodic, as if they’ve run out of ideas or exhausted the passion to develop new ones.īut time and again, we’ve been heartened, cheered, inspired and, sometimes, astonished by a new generation of innovative female singers and musicians - punk in style or spirit, and coming from the all-ages warehouse and D.I.Y.-venue ecosystem - singing about tactile emotion, rousing politics and far more. Indie rock, especially, has undergone an identity crisis this decade. While there’s never been a shortage of quote-unquote traditional rock bands - say, a mostly male, mostly white four-piece - their cultural impact has continued to wane in the face of increasingly diverse musical tactics, distribution networks and messengers.īut as we’ve spoken among ourselves about the music that most excites us, we have consistently marveled at how much outstanding rock music is being made by female and non-binary performers who work just below the surface of the mainstream. For years now, we, the pop music team of The New York Times - Jon Caramanica, Joe Coscarelli, Caryn Ganz and Jon Pareles - have wondered where exactly the guitars went.