Children of Lilith Are Born

I “came of age” in a weird time for women, which most women can justifiably say at most times. This particular era (it was the ninetiiiiiiieeeees) was bustling with female pop culture icons and archetypes, many of whom gained popularity from their position on some patriarchal spectrum of fuck-marry-killability. The male gaze was gazing hard, and I learned about what that meant from every teen heartthrob; every plaid-skirted and bobby-socked Clueless cast member; every beautiful sitcom housewife nagging her inconsiderate doofus of a man-child husband; every spandexed supermodel with a bouncing bosom running slow-mo on a beach; every sample-sized starlet with chunky highlights, low-rise jeans, smudged eyeliner, and an eating disorder; and, most important, from my mother, who, despite resembling Michelle Pfeiffer, never met a mirror she didn’t curse out in front of her daughters for failing (in her dysmorphic view) to live up to the established beauty standards of the time.

Thank goodness for Christian values and a conservative upbringing, am I right? (Did you clock my heathen cackle all the way from my house as you read that?). Those “values” only fortified the molten lava moat of self-hatred and subservience that entrenched itself around my body and brain in those formative years.

What, then, actually diffused the pressure of this SlimFast-Fen-Phen-fueled pubescent nightmare? Simple: the stories and songs of women who dared go against the grain. I can’t think of a better example of this than the pop culture phenomenon that was Lilith Fair. So, imagine my delight to learn that A) there’s a new Lilith Fair tribute in town (well, two, but we’ll get to that later), and B) I get to be the one to tell you about it!

Children of Lilith: Jules Stewart, Megan Nguyen, Joshua Taylor, Anna Bellew, Miles Clowminzer, Sandi King.

Children of Lilith is the brainchild of Joshua Taylor (musical director, guitar, vocals), who percolated for three years on the idea before assembling players for the touring project that aims to celebrate the music of this era while also uplifting the talent and original works of the band’s members (Sandi King, vocals; Anna Ballew, guitar/vocals; Megan Nguyen, keys/vocals; Jules Stewart, drums/vocals; and Miles Clowminzer, bass/vocals).

Something to Believe In
My first question for Taylor was something akin to what’s a guy like you doing percolating about a band like this?

Turns out he has mom stuff, too. He explained:

“My mom is a boomer, molded in her early years by surviving the violent horrors of a tyrannical upbringing, and later by figuring out how to navigate survival as a young mother with unreliable partners. She was a classically trained singer and had early glimpses of a music career (a whole other story), but life had other plans.”

Taylor’s mother’s “quiet brand of feminism showed up in lots of little rebellions” as she navigated the suffocating aspirations of white yuppie suburbia.

“She slogged it through some shit jobs to snatch that carrot for us,” he said.

Witnessing the multifaceted identities and responsibilities his mom assumed at home and in the workplace, Taylor noticed “how the world ground away at her feistiness, began to tame and contain her, and eventually tethered her with financial traps and suburban family scripts.”

“She invested seemingly all her remaining fire into supporting her son’s launch into adulthood with the best résumé she could envision for the world as she understood it,” he said.

Some of that support included exposing Taylor to musicians like Tracy Chapman, Paula Cole, Sarah McLachlan, Shawn Colvin, Indigo Girls, and Sheryl Crow.

“Twenty something years and a couple of discarded careers later, I sit with my guitar rig in the back of my overworked SUV, listening to Paula Cole tear her heart out telling bits of Mom’s life story, and something in me tips over some line,” reflected Taylor, who together with King (his life and music partner) have worked diligently to achieve a semblance of stability as professional writing, recording, touring, and session musicians.

Now, Taylor finds himself chasing a different kind of dream.

“I’m obsessed with this music life and its million little victories and frustrations, and I want to build something I can believe in, something that might assemble the pieces of my experience into something that has a chance at being a vehicle for me and a little tribe of kindred spirits. And maybe something that feels more important than just my own artistic vanity.”

So essentially, I sang to myself in a cheeky Paula Cole, “you don’t wanna wait for your life to be ovahhhhh.”

It’s All Just Music
My next question turned to the conundrum of tribute shows. Audiences who will eagerly purchase high-dollar tickets for a nostalgic night of covers (not that there’s anything wrong with that) might balk at forking over a few bucks for an evening of original music by the very same musicians. Given that the Children of Lilith roster reads like a dream team of some of the most prolific songwriters and skilled musicians in San Diego, I asked how the group (most of whom have relied on cover and tribute gigs to pay the bills) plans to approach this paradox.

Josh Taylor

“I’ve seen it work well, and I’ve seen it step into some steaming piles of shit,” Taylor said of his lived experience in the tribute corner of the music industry.

No matter the format, “it’s all just music,” he said. “You can be a corny and derivative ‘original’ artist, and you can be a sincere and compelling tribute act. The integrity of the show is something you create intentionally. Besides, creative interpretation of existing catalogue is a key feature of the jazz and blues traditions, and that world has heavily influenced me.”

The gameplan for Children of Lilith, then, is to pay homage to the beloved artists of the Lilith era while also showcasing the artistry of its members.

“If a tribute project can get an audience in front of a group of amazing musicians, I want those musicians to be seen for the artists they are. We have some ideas about how to do that, and I sincerely hope we can get them to work.”

What a Sarah McLach-lian teaser to entice people to come to their August debut at Lou Lou’s Jungle Room, I thought. They’re “building a mystery.”

This Music Belongs to Everyone

Ashley E. Norton

I wanted to address what I’ll call the elilithphant in the room: a similarly themed tribute to the ladies of Lilith called Lilith Lives, launched last month by Ramona’s unofficial mayor of music, Ashley E. Norton.

King, who spoke to Norton once they became aware of each other’s projects, was unsurprised that multiple groups are celebrating this music.

“We spoke of why we all were inspired by these women; we spoke of how deep the impact has been on each of us by specific artists and Lilith Fair as a whole,” she said. “In my observations the expression of tributing a specific band sometimes seems to get muddled up with ego and strategy, but to pay homage to an entire festival created as a response to oppression of women in the industry is so much deeper, and I don’t think there is room for the ego often encountered in similar situations.”

Taylor agreed. “Competitive pettiness is a bit boring, and it can get pretty rampant in the tribute scene. This music belongs to everyone, and anyone who wants to celebrate it should do just that. A band is just a band, after all, whoever penned the music they might be performing.”

For me, the question isn’t rooted in pitting the two women-front acts against each other. (As we all know, the patriarchy thrives on that crap, and I am not in favor of a thriving patriarchy). I actually can’t wait to encounter both shows for the joy of observing a vast catalog interpreted two ways. (If restaurant-goers can appreciate dual prep, so can concert-goers). My greater curiosity, however, lies in the timing of it all.

Sandi King

A major festival report from Book More Women found that individual representation of women and nonbinary musicians was just 22.6% in 2025. In addition to the two Lilith revivals here in San Diego, news just came of the Olivia Rodrigo-presented Daisy Chain Fields. Tickets to this all-women music festival, slated for August 29 in Irvine, sold out in less than 30 minutes.

Are creatives and connoisseurs stoking a fire for women-centric music movements as a simple celebration, or are they resurrecting Lilith’s spirit of confrontation-through-innovation precisely because the patriarchy is far more alive and well than they hoped it would be nearly three decades after Lilith launched?

As this country rings in its 250th incorporated anniversary of land theft, the internet is crawling with images that feel almost jizzed-out onto a toxic male’s wet dreamboard of some video game dystopia called Grand Theft Democracy. Behold:

—A corporate-sponsored UFC octagon on the White House’s south lawn, not too far from the demolished East Wing, just down the way from the algae-infested waters of the National Mall;

—A militarized agency of bootlicking immigration officers, hauling families off to for-profit concentration camps, for no crime other than existing in a place.

—A trove of uninvestigated and unaccountable alleged rapists, pedophiles, and cannibals, holding the very keys to every supposed justice-seeking institution.

—An onslaught of ignored reports of the mass slaughter and displacement of innocent families who live on lusted-after land and resources.

The real question I’m pondering, before I get too depressed, is: does this particular state and time leave folks yearning for (not to go full trad wife) a woman’s touch in the same way the particular state and time that saw Lilith Fair’s creation are attributed to igniting its success? Okay, I’m not so much pondering as hoping. I am a lesbian after all. In my opinion, a woman’s touch makes everything much better. Just feminist food for thought, even though I could do a full Badu and go “on & on & on & on.” 

Lifesaving and Critical
Whether they’re using good music to fill a timely cultural craving or playing good music for good music’s sake, the Children of Lilith, much like the original players of the original fest, are keen to invoke a spirit of representation and inclusivity. This approach is a motivator for Stewart, an openly queer musician who’s traveled extensively with the Billy Joel tribute act Billy Nation as well as acclaimed Irish folk singer Gráinne Hunt (Stewart’s partner).

“As I’ve toured more rural parts of the country and met folks from those areas, it’s become clear to me what a lifeline queer artists like the Indigo Girls and Jill Sobule were,” she said. “In an era where it was more difficult and dangerous to be openly queer, representation was lifesaving and critical. Playing music from these artists feels almost sacred to me now that I have a deeper appreciation for what their songs meant, and continue to mean, to people.”

That continued meaning is intriguing to me as a fan and fellow artist—someone who took in the live Lilith Fair concert from the nosebleed seats of the Rose Bowl in Pasadena as a high school freshman and budding songwriter. At the time (1998), I worshiped and memorized all things Jewel, spending hours on the piano performing from my “Pieces of You” songbook and singing every word of “Who Will Save Your Soul” on the bus to middle-school basketball games.

Now I find myself struggling to survive in my 43-year-old postpartum perimenopausal body and an abolitionist mind, side-eying modern-day Jewel, wedding guest of Jeff Bezos, while simultaneously unpacking that my initial reticence to deep-dive on Sinead O’Connor was just U.S. propaganda working as designed

As much as my doe-eyed dimply inner child is eager to hear Children of Lilith perform beloved songs from my youth, my capitalism-crushed working-class soul is equally intrigued at the opportunity to absorb some of the tunes and themes that once flew over my naive head. You know, now that ”talkin’ ‘bout a revolution” means so much more to me than something fun to whisper and sing along with Tracy Chapman.

Leading with Love
Sociopolitical musings aside, the beating heart of the band is simply the heart of the music.

Clowminzer points to Bonnie Raitt’s earnest voice and songs as “a guiding light” for him, while Nguyen and Ballew still resonate with India.Arie’s message of self-love 25 years after her the 2001 debut of her double platinum debut Acoustic Soul.

“It’s a confident declaration to be you and not need to conform to the expectations of others, and it’s a great lesson about learning to love yourself unconditionally,” said Nguyen, reflecting on “Video,” the album’s lead single, which garnered four Grammy nominations in 2002.

“I love her messages of self-compassion and empowerment,” said Ballew, whose recently released debut album Bloom is filled with sounds and sentiments that can be traced directly back to Acoustic Soul.

Connecting these through-lines of care from then to now is perhaps the most meaningful offering from Children of Lilith.

“We are aiming to create spaces where our audiences can express their authentic selves safely, where everyone who leads with love belongs,” Taylor said. “We want younger fans to hear the music that inspired some of their favorite contemporary songwriters. Our band runs the entire width of the millennial generation, and we hope to see multigenerational groups and families sharing this experience with us as well. All the aspirational bits aside, we’re also just folks trying to have a good time playing music with people we like being around.”

What a wonderful note on which to close this article and birth this band, straight from the delivery room of Sheryl Crow’s Tuesday Night Music Club. “All you wanna do is have some fun.”

Go forth, fans old and new, and have some fun with Children of Lilith at Lou Lou’s Jungle Room on August 24, until the sun comes up over (in this case) El Cajon Boulevard. Tickets