Music invariably offers numerous possibilities for engaging with expectations about and experiences of gender and sexuality. This point was first addressed in detail by a handful of path-breaking collections in the early 1990s, such as Musicology and Difference (Solie Reference Solie1993) and Queering the Pitch (Brett et al. Reference Brett, Wood and Thomas1994), which made much needed incursions into the gendered structures of difference entrenched within a variety of musical idioms and practices. Following on from these initial efforts, Sheila Whiteley's Sexing the Groove (Reference Whiteley1997) signalled a significant step towards the study of popular music and its entwinement with the politics of gender and sexuality more specifically. In the 20 years since, the study of popular music and gender has seen a proliferation of approaches and foci, yet much of this scholarship has retained the centrality of the concept of difference for probing at the intricacies of identity in popular music. Gavin Lee's Rethinking Difference in Gender, Sexuality, and Popular Music: Theory and Politics of Ambiguity recognises the broad-reaching importance of the concept of difference, its slipperiness, and the need for its continual reassessment as a scholarly tool and paradigm. As such, it is a welcome addition to existing scholarship. At the same time, however, the ambition to rethink the concept of difference comes with a risk of further muddying the proverbial water.

The collection consists of nine essays, flanked by an introduction and an afterword. Lee's introduction surveys existing literature in the fields of popular music, gender and queer studies. He reflects on tensions between conceptions of identities as stable and unstable, noting that politics of difference have the simultaneous potential to ‘oppress and emancipate’ (p. 3). In the face of this potentially confusing conceptual terrain, a central aim of the collection is to ‘rethink difference through the analytic of ambiguity’ (p. 4 – original emphases), which is reflected in its organisation into three parts: ambiguity of action, ambiguity of reception and ontological ambiguity. This organisation seems deliberate and generally works well, as the chapters all cohere thematically within these sections, and the broader argument of the collection unfolds appropriately.

The opening chapter of part I, ‘When the bearded lady sings: Ambiguity aesthetics, queer identity, and the gendering of the presentational voice’, is written by Mario Rey. He focuses on the performance aesthetics of Conchita Wurst (stage persona of Thomas Neuwirth), the winner of the 2014 Eurovision Song Contest. Much attention is devoted to the ambiguity of Wurst's singing voice alongside the social and visual construction of the diva figure, and Rey connects these different lines of inquiry in a convincing manner. He concludes that the construction of Wurst's persona showcases the interplay of the feminine and the masculine in a manner that ‘contests hegemonic narratives of bodily inscription and engendering’ (p. 30), and ultimately argues that it falls on the listener or viewer to disentangle and make sense of the multiple narratives afforded by pop performances. While the case study stands on its own in its published form, a more thorough interrogation of the gendered discourses surrounding the Eurovision Song Contest itself would be welcome. The contest is well known as an arena for theatrical visual performances and glamorous excess. More could be made of this point and how the history of the contest might frame Wurst's performance in ways that emphasise or undercut its subversive aspects and/or their reception.

Matthew Bannister's chapter, ‘Funny girls and nowhere boys: Reversing the gaze in the popular music biopic’, is placed in part II of the book. In one of the highlights of the collection, Bannister offers a new perspective on Laura Mulvey's influential theory of the ‘male gaze’ by unpacking the social implications of ‘reversing the gaze’. Focusing on a handful of films released over the past half century, he investigates a hidden history of gender ambiguity in popular music biopics. Bannister aptly demonstrates how ‘the reverse gaze works as a structuring device in music biopics, viewing the dominant narrative of achievement through a female or queer lens that can be both desiring and “concerned” (the gaze always includes this ambiguity)’ (p. 123). In his closing statements, Bannister argues that a prosperous future for rock discourse is dependent on the acknowledgement of difference in its performers and listeners. As such, the chapter offers a timely and appropriate nuancing of the idea of rock as a male-dominated arena.

One of the book's most evident attempts at ontological rethinking is found in Kirsten Zemke and Jared Mackley-Crump's chapter, ‘“I'ma School that Bitch”: Gay Rappers Defying Binaries and Expressing Fierceness’, which argues for replacing the genre label ‘queer hip-hop’ with the term ‘fierceness’. They study four rappers who are all connected by an ‘undeniable essence’ beyond queerness (p. 140). More detailed case studies might have been beneficial to explicating how fierceness is articulated in hip-hop performance, and there should be room for this as the chapter is one of the shortest of the book (although very heavy with footnotes). It is implicit that fierceness relates to the sensibilities of fashion, attitude and style. Indeed, Zemke and Mackley-Crump describe fierceness as a sensibility (much like camp) and not a fixed category, yet this makes it unclear how fierceness might function as a viable ‘alternative to the term “queer hip-hop”’ (p. 141). The point is left unexplored, with the conclusion (and really the chapter itself) raising more questions than it answers. As it stands, the chapter exemplifies the point that theoretical rethinking does not necessarily result in improved clarity or new insights.

An afterword is provided by Paul Attinello, who was among the contributors of the aforementioned Queering the Pitch (Brett et al. Reference Brett, Wood and Thomas1994). The essay contemplates the phrase ‘the world only spins forward’, which, for Attinello, points to the matter that ‘once certain questions have been asked, once certain distinctions have been made, they can never be unasked or undistinguished; and that the proliferating mass of culture can never close, at least not completely, over the splits and fissures and new growths that have opened up in their wake’ (p. 184). The discursive slippages entailed in the process of spinning forward also offer new possibilities, and Attinello emphasises that ambiguities are themselves full of life (p. 188). While Attinello does not engage closely with the other chapters in the collection, his focus on possibilities seems to sum up the general spirit of the volume, reflecting back on the ideas presented by the individual authors.

In many ways, this collection is itself full of life and possibility. A few exceptions notwithstanding, the chapters are well written and persuasive in their arguments. As a whole, the collection makes a valuable contribution to the study of gender, sexuality and popular music by presenting engaging perspectives on both historical and contemporary issues. As Lee (p. 4) acknowledges in his introduction, however, taking ambiguity as an analytical focal point to study music and gender is not an invention of this collection, which makes the book read more like a ‘state of the field’ than the extensive theoretical rethinking that is implied by the title. In a time characterised, as Attinello (p. 185) suggests, by political chaos and unpredictable change, the collection nonetheless offers scholars and students secure footing for further exploring how gender, sexuality and popular music are interweaved in the fabric of our everyday lives.