Evelyn McDonnell and Elisabeth Vincentelli

The spelling itself is disputed: some OGs (original grrrls) argue two rs, others three; some just say girl. The term originated around 1991 almost as a joke, an offhand comment that got written into mimeographed fanzines that circulated among punk rock and feminist communities first in the Pacific Northwest and the Northeast, then across the country, and eventually around the world. There was a decentralized but effective network of activist chapters that organized protests and performances, made art and zines, and also just sat around and talked — raising consciousness one girl at a time. And of course, there were recordings: handmade cassette tapes, small-label 45s, EPs, LPs and even CDs.

Politically, riot grrrl blasted feminism into the future: Centering the needs of a new generation via direct-action strategies, witty mantras and slogans such as “girl power” and “support girl love,” it became one of the most visible branches of what was dubbed third wave feminism. But materially the music was old-school, arguably the last blast of a predigital age. The mantra of the day was “do it yourself.” If you wrote a good song, you recorded it as quickly and cheaply as you could, then pressed it up and stuck it inside some cut-up-graphics-style paper sleeve. The songs were put out by regional labels like K, Kill Rock Stars, Chainsaw, Outpunk and Dischord. Some first saw the light of day on compilation albums like the “International Pop Underground Convention,” “Stars Kill Rock” and “Move Into Villa Villa Kula.”

No pledge or stamp made an act riot grrrl. The bands below generally contained members who identified as such, or performed at shows organized by local chapters, or sang about feminist issues over adamantly under-processed music from 1991 to 1996. Some were what the poet Tracie Morris calls “riot grrrl adjacent”: They existed before or formed simultaneously but separately from the activist centers. Before, beyond and beside riot grrrl there was an uprising of ferocious female acts playing music that was generally heavier and less overtly political: the Lunachicks, Frightwig, L7, Babes in Toyland, the Nymphs, Hole, the Gits. But that’s another list.

Leapt upon by the media, riot grrrl disappeared almost as quickly as it materialized — too stubborn or scared to plunge or get sucked into the mainstream. But its influence has persisted, resurfacing in the last decade with the traveling art exhibition “Alien She,” books including the young adult novel “Moxie” (optioned by Amy Poehler’s film company), and untold numbers of bands, most famously Pussy Riot. In the wake of this riot grrrl renaissance, or resurgence, the OGs are reclaiming their place in history, and their spot on the stage. In the past year, Kill Rock Stars produced a podcast commemorating the 25th anniversary of Bratmobile’s debut album, “Pottymouth,” and two key groups — Bikini Kill and Team Dresch — have reunited for tours and are rereleasing albums. Bikini Kill played its first show in more than two decades on April 25; tickets sold out immediately for its limited tour.

This is a list of essential riot grrrl music, one song per artist — a starting point, not a totality. If you don’t like our list, make your own. That’s the point, really. Do it yourself.

7 Year Bitch, ‘Dead Men Don’t Rape’ (1992): The Seattle grunge band 7 Year Bitch was generally considered riot grrrl adjacent, but few tracks expressed the radical rage of the era better than this primal scream anthem condemning sexual assault. The vocalist Selene Vigil shouts each word of the title in ascending tones, as if she’s emphatically stating a point that should be obvious.

Autoclave, ‘Go Far’ (1991): The Washington quartet Autoclave — not riot grrrls per se, but fellow travelers — was a decisive matrix for two of the city’s most creative musicians: the extraordinary guitarist Mary Timony (who would go on to Helium and Ex Hex, as well as a fruitful solo career) and bassist Christina Billotte (who switched to guitar in Slant 6 and Quix*o*tic). The band’s self-titled compilation is a treasure trove of arrhythmic beats and elliptical lyrics, and its debut single, “Go Far,” showcases confident, understatedly sophisticated songwriting.

Bikini Kill, ‘Double Dare Ya’ (1992): It starts with a declaration of war: “We’re Bikini Kill, and we want revolution girl-style now!” An audacious proposition follows: Be yourself. The first song on the first record by Bikini Kill established the bulwark for the battle to come. The guitarist Billy Karren’s squeals of feedback are like an amplified throat clearing, while Kathi Wilcox’s bass delivers marching orders. Kathleen Hanna speaks directly and intimately to a female audience — “Hey girlfriend!” — then Tobi Vail rapid-fires on the snare, and nothing would ever be the same.

“Rebel Girl,” from the same record, is known as the definitive riot grrrl anthem, the ultimate snapshot of the genre’s power-punk music and feminist heroism. But “Double Dare Ya” tossed the boys to the back of the room and pulled the girls to the front with its siren call. Hanna’s vocals are a marvel of emotional swagger, humor and rage as she speaks to adolescent hearts in the language they know: mocking the nagging of parents, the bullying of boyfriends and the patronizing of the patriarchy, then finally shouting the call to arms of daredevil friends: “You do have rights!”

Bratmobile, ‘Love Thing’ (1993): University of Oregon students Allison Wolfe and Molly Neuman were an integral part of the riot grrrl origin story — their zine “Girl Germs” was a cut-and-paste feminist samizdat that first came out in early 1991. Naturally, a band followed, with Erin Smith, from Washington, joining on guitar. Unlike many of its peers, Bratmobile made records that almost matched its live shows’ intoxicating rush — its motto was just as much get up and fight as get up and dance. Wolfe favored old-fashioned cat’s-eye glasses and vaguely retro summer dresses, upending decades of expectations about women in rock bands: Here was someone who looked like a prim librarian spitting out acid-tongued harangues and taunts. On “Love Thing,” from the band’s debut album, “Pottymouth,” Neuman’s implacable, driving beat and the surfy lines Smith wrings from her vintage teardrop Kapa guitar keep pushing Wolfe’s sing-screaming. The lyrics have acquired a prescient, bitter resonance in the age of #MeToo, and yet the song pulses with the infectious rock ’n’ roll élan that characterized Bratmobile.

Cold Cold Hearts, ‘Any Resemblance ...’ (1997): After Bratmobile disbanded (temporarily, it would turn out), Wolfe and Smith formed Cold Cold Hearts with the Cutthroats bassist Nattles and the drummer Katherine Brown. Everything about that combo was bare-bones: its discography (one 7” and one album), its songs (under two minutes) and its production (minimal but poppy). But Cold Cold Hearts burned bright and was funny, too, fully indulging in the humor that marked Bratmobile’s best songs. Smith’s playing on “Any Resemblance...,” from the band’s self-titled LP, is a frantic hybrid of the B-52’s and the Cramps at warp speed. Wolfe’s line “Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental” may well poke fun at riot grrrl’s close-to-the-vest lyrics, or perhaps at the internecine battles that eventually drove wedges among bands, musicians and fans.

Emily’s Sassy Lime, ‘Mr. Moneybag$’ (1995): Sisters Amy and Wendy Yao formed Emily’s Sassy Lime (it’s a palindrome) with their high school friend Emily Ryan in Southern California, legendarily after sneaking out of their houses to see Bratmobile and Bikini Kill. They played primitive shambolic pop in the spirit of the Shaggs and Shonen Knife. This song, from their debut album, “Desperate, Scared, But Social,” is a quintessential punk plaint against the Man.

Excuse 17, ‘Watchmaker’ (1995): “Watchmaker” just may be a response to the press’s response to riot grrrl. “I want to rip off your best catchphrase/Smear your face across the music page,” Carrie Brownstein snarls over Becca Albee’s guitar and CJ Phillips’ drums on the band’s second and last album, “Such Friends Are Dangerous.” “Watchmaker” is at once clever (the chorus “I asked you what time it was/Not how to make a watch” remains an excellent riposte to mansplaining) and fierce — Brownstein lets rip the roar that Sleater-Kinney fans would come to know well.

Fifth Column, ‘Like This’ (1990): Created at the dawn of the 1980s in Toronto, this band anticipated both the riot grrrl and queercore scenes, which it bridged when these movements were in full bloom in the early 1990s. The quintet, led by singer Caroline Azar and guitarist G.B. Jones, found inspiration in the outer reaches of pop culture (B-movies, underground artists like Tom of Finland), which it spat back out coated in a singularly irreverent brand of feminism. Jones, also an accomplished visual artist, influential zinemeister and Super 8 auteur, helped make Fifth Column as much a witty conceptual art project as a polemical rock band.

Frumpies, ‘Eunuch Nights’ (1998): A side project from Bratmobile’s Neuman and Bikini Kill minus Hanna, Frumpies embraced recorded-in-a-tin-can production values, fuzzed-out guitar and sing-songy vocals. The band didn’t put out much music — a handful of 7” singles between 1993 and 2000, collected in the anthology “Frumpie One-Piece” — but each of its tracks, like “Eunuch Nights,” summoned the glorious abandon of hundreds of garage bands and reclaimed lo-fi as the sound of American girls.

Gossip, ‘Where the Girls Are’ (2001): Riot grrrl’s frank, open views about sexuality and body politics were groundbreaking, and the movement extolled female solidarity and friendship. But it took the emergence of Gossip to get a heroine who proudly called herself a “fat, feminist lesbian”: Beth Ditto. On the early song “Where the Girls Are,” the trio meshed a melody line reminiscent of the Sonics’ “Have Love, Will Travel” with to-the-point lyrics: “Come on home with me tonight/Let me love you all night long.” Ditto, who had fled Arkansas for the more tolerant pastures of Olympia, Washington, also brought soulful stylings and a powerful belt to the riot universe, heretofore dominated by deliberately artless snarls.

gSp, ‘Social Death’ (2017): Few 21st-century bands have genes like girlSperm, commonly known as gSp, which includes the OG Tobi Vail and Layla Gibbon from Skinned Teen alongside Marissa Magic. The trio’s self-titled debut EP barrels through 10 songs in 15 minutes. The combination of serrated guitars and alternately affectless and shouty vocals feels timeless, as much riot grrrl as no wave.

Heavens to Betsy, ‘Me &amp; Her’ (1993): This essential first-wave riot grrrl band — made up of guitarist Corin Tucker (later of Sleater-Kinney) and drummer Tracy Sawyer — released a debut four-song 7” that was supremely unsettling in its raw intensity: These women knew. “Me &amp; Her” is one of the best songs ever written about how torturous female friendships can be. “You don’t understand a girl who’s passionate for another girl,” Tucker sings. “One day I think I love her then I think I want to kill her.”

Huggy Bear, ‘Her Jazz’ (1993): The London band Huggy Bear was proof that riot grrrl could leap not just from one American coast to the other, but across the Atlantic. While the group closely embraced the riot grrrl aesthetic, down to scribbling messages on their arms in black Sharpie, a major difference was that one of the quintet’s two men, Chris Rowley, often took the mic. “Her Jazz,” however, features the group’s main female singer, Niki Elliott. The lyrics confront male allies, as we’d call them now, demanding they reconcile their actions with their rhetoric: “Boy/girl revolutionaries/You and me/That’s what you told me/So show me!” The sound is excited and excitable, with Elliott biting into the words one second, polishing them the next. And if that boy stepped out of line? “I’ll run you over/Watch me.” The band performed the track in full agit-pop mode on the Channel 4 show “The Word” in 1993.

Julie Ruin, ‘V.G.I.’ (1998): Wait, Kathleen Hanna could be relaxed and funny? She could sample Lesley Gore and the Cars? With Bikini Kill on a break, Hanna sat down in her apartment and recorded a solo album under the name Julie Ruin. Up until this point, the sounds of the moment seemed to have passed riot grrrl by, and the movement’s adherence to a garage aesthetic was partly a political move: Men often kept women out of bands by arguing they lacked conventional technique, and riot grrrl proudly reclaimed a certain kind of rock primitivism. Hanna’s “Julie Ruin” album made prominent use of lo-fi samples and loops, extending the zine’s cut-and-paste visuals to the sonic realm. They gave songs like “V.G.I.” an indisputable groove that paired well with Hanna’s emerging playfulness — a combination she would maximize in her next project, Le Tigre.

Linus, ‘Super Golgotha Crucifixion Scene’ (1994): Born in 1992, this coed London quartet was closely associated with riot grrrl, sharing stages with Bikini Kill, Huggy Bear and Pussycat Trash. But the band’s protean, relatively sophisticated songwriting and production never fit the rough-and-ready template embraced by most of its peers — Linus leaned more toward musically ecumenical indie rock, albeit with unabashed feminist politics. With its shimmery guitar washes, melodic bass line and deceptively soothing vocals, the single “Super Golgotha Crucifixion Scene” is borderline shoegaze and may well be the most pop entry in this list.

Mary Lou Lord, ‘Some Jingle Jangle Morning’ (1993): A pure pop moment amid the din of revolution, Mary Lou Lord was the movement’s Melanie: a starry-eyed, sweet-voiced, superfan troubadour paying tribute to (and at one point mimicking) Bob Dylan, of all people. An all-star female band — Vail and Wilcox of Bikini Kill and the inimitable Donna Dresch — give the melody its muscled momentum. The music delivers a rush of joy, but the lyrics capture the heartache of the time in tragically prescient fashion: Lord was calling out to her ex, Kurt Cobain, a lament we would all be singing a year later.

Mecca Normal, ‘I Walk Alone’ (1986): Because of their geographic, sonic and political proximity, the Vancouver duo Mecca Normal got swept up in the categorization of riot grrrl, but in fact, Jean Smith and David Lester had helped inspire Hanna to pick up a microphone. They have also survived the moment, still collaborating to this day. “I Walk Alone,” from their first album, set the tone for much of what was to follow. It’s the anthem of a woman staking her claim to independence, solitude, home, safety, the streets and freedom. Bold, blunt, raw and feminist, it remains timely and necessary.

Skinned Teen, ‘Pillow Case Kisser’ (1994): No wonder Britain was so quick to embrace riot grrrl: The country had spawned proto-riot punk bands like X-Ray Spex, the Raincoats and the Slits, after all. The London-based Skinned Teen’s three members were around 14 when they started their band, inspired by Bikini Kill and Huggy Bear. If they sounded as if they’d picked up their instruments for the first time mere hours earlier, well, that was pretty much the case. Driven by a simple but ruthlessly efficient bass line, “Pillow Case Kisser” addresses someone who thinks they may never amount to much and is oddly sympathetic despite the taunting delivery.

Slant 6, ‘Poison Arrows Shot at Heroes’ (1994): On a purely musical level, song per song, Slant 6 made arguably the best album of the riot grrrl era, “Soda Pop*Rip Off.” The genius guitarist and vocalist Christina Billotte (formerly of Autoclave) leads bassist Myra Power and drummer Marge Marshall through 16 power-trio ravers. Named after a vintage engine, Slant 6 plays its songs like race cars — it’s drag music fueled by high-octane girl power. (Imagine an amalgam of Dick Dale and Nancy Sinatra fronting the Who.) “Poison Arrows Shot at Heroes” improbably turns the title’s five words into a waterfall melody that hints at treason and revolution. I have listened to this album countless times and I don’t really know what the songs are about. But I know how they make me feel: excited, anxious, exhilarated, pissed, provoked, panicked, driven.

Sleater-Kinney, ‘I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone’ (1996): Sleater-Kinney formed out of the ashes of riot grrrl — specifically of Heavens to Betsy and Excuse 17, whose members Corin Tucker and Carrie Brownstein had toured together and dated. They went through a couple of drummers before finding a perfect fit: Quasi’s Janet Weiss. With the demise of most of the genre’s other flagship acts, S-K became riot grrrl’s banner carriers, somewhat reluctantly, and “I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone” became one of the last great revolution girl-style anthems, a note-perfect statement about the importance of girls having female role models. With their call-and-response guitars and vocals in which Tucker and Brownstein finished each other’s sentences, Sleater-Kinney also achieved a level of musicianship that not all of their peers could claim, or wanted.

Suture, ‘Pretty Is’ (1992): This B-side of the only single put out by Hanna, Sharon Cheslow (of Chalk Circle) and Dug E. Bird (aka Doug Birdzell) offers a rare, slow, dose of melancholia from the era: a pretty song about how terrible pretty is. When Hanna sings “I really liked you” over the slow slide of a bass string, it’s a moment of heartbreak — the finger on the point where pain begins, before it turns into rage.

Tattle Tale, ‘Glass Vase Cello Case’ (1995): Riot grrrl music could be loud and angry like Tribe 8, silly and poppy like Tiger Trap, or string-driven folk like the Seattle duo Tattle Tale. Jen Wood and Madigan Shive were teenagers when they formed the band, which built the template on which Tegan and Sara and Girlpool later erected their empires. “Glass Vase Cello Case” features acoustic guitar arpeggios, the mournful strains of a cello and the singers’ soft harmonies. Originally released on the band’s “Sew True” album, this track was featured in the film “But I’m a Cheerleader.”

Team Dresch, ‘Uncle Phranc’ (1996): Team Dresch, who have reunited and are playing anticipated shows this summer, are seriously skilled musicians who don’t let their shredding get in the way of their self-expression. They’re a sort of riot grrrl supergroup named after their superheroine guitarist/bassist Donna Dresch (Screaming Trees, Fifth Column, Dinosaur Jr.) that features members of Adickdid (Kaia Wilson), Hazel (Jody Bleyle), Calamity Jane (Marci Martinez) and Vitapup (Melissa York). Wilson and Bleyle trade singer/songwriter duties over thrashing rhythms and monster riffs. “Uncle Phranc,” named after the self-identified “Jewish lesbian folk singer” of California punk fame, is about the importance of choosing one’s own families when the folks we are given at birth don’t understand or support our choices in love. Imagine Indigo Girls mashed up with Black Sabbath.

Tiger Trap, ‘Supreme Nothing’ (1993): Sacramento quartet Tiger Trap played rapidly strummed, jangly pop that sounded like it could have come from the New Zealand indie scene of the time. The instruments in “Supreme Nothing” tumble and trip as if they are going to fall apart at any minute, but instead they climb higher. Rose Melberg and Angela Loy sing steadfastly on top of the anarchy in girlie voices, not letting the nihilism of the music and the lyrics sour their day.

Tribe 8, ‘Neanderthal Dyke’ (1995): With hilarious lyrics about sexual role playing and theatrical stage antics like dildo dismemberment, the San Francisco group Tribe 8 tended to get dismissed as a novelty act. But there was serious social commentary beneath its thundering hard-core riffs, and some of its former members have become transgender pioneers. This song describes a generational shift, from the folky lesbians of the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival (which Tribe 8 played multiple times, despite protests its first year there) to the tattooed lesbians of punk.

This article originally appeared in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/02/arts/music/riot-grrrl-playlist.html" id="280e496d-9fcf-3766-a7fe-719a9d98612e">The New York Times</a>.

A recent resurgence of punk-powered feminism — or is that girl-powered punk? — raises the question: What was, or is, riot grrrl? A movement, a genre, an era, a scene?

Riot Grrrl United Feminism and Punk. Here's an Essential Listening Guide.

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Evelyn McDonnell and Elisabeth Vincentelli

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Riot Grrrl United Feminism and Punk. Here's an Essential Listening Guide.