As our ad guy, Sam, showed me and Nicki videos from a band that he liked in his youth (I assume youth, he said he had a mullet at the time) we'd never heard of (Marillion. Lead singer's name was Fish when Sam was a fan, but Fish left the band and now they have some Alice Cooper look-alike fronting and they're still HUGE in Europe) it got me to thinking of where I was musically in my mullet-comparable years.

Let's say we're talking early twenties. Ah, yes: My Lilith Fair days. I only caught one year of the tour, but it was a doozy: I saw Joan Osborne, who might be proud to know that she was the first person to ever say anything positive about Planned Parenthood in my life (note: Joan Osborne will be in town Nov. 1 at Miller Outdoor Theater with the Holmes Brothers and Paul Thorn. Free.); Jewel (eh.); introduced me to Emmylou Harris; and, of course, Sarah Mc herself. I loved it. I was moody and depressed and not-at-all confident with anything about myself. Listening to chick-rock was the stairway leading out of a dark, pre-adult hole of self-hatred.

I also loved Tori Amos, and tolerated Alanis Morissette. I developed an affinity for Ani DiFranco after hearing her on David Sadof's Lunar Rotation show. That was about as radical as I went down the femme-rock path.

I can still listen to some of it. Tori, in particular, has held up nicely. But I cringe when revisiting Sarah McLachlan and her gauzy, heart-broken songs. I have graduated up to Gillian Welch (new album, please, Gillian), Patty Griffin, Sarah Harmer, and I still revisit Ani in the diluted form of Tegan and Sara.

I doubt radio these days is a rich place for self-conscious 20-year-olds to find voices that represent them, which is a damn shame. I shudder to think where I would be today without Ani Difranco's firm, guiding hand on Not a Pretty Girl. You have to dig deeper these days for the musicians that reflect through their artistry what it means to be a woman, which is why I have to give a thumbs-up to the Houston Women's Festival, happening Saturday at Jones Plaza, for being one of those places where you can find this music.

The only unfortunate part is that the Houston-based performers on the lineup perform early in the day and really aren't a shining example of what Houston puts out, lady-rock-wise. Gadget White Band, a decent blues-rock quartet, and Flawlessly Inadequate, a lousy hard-rock band, are not innovators by any means. I might have chosen Katie Stuckey, Perseph One, Lisa Novak, even tinygurl Kathryn Hallberg for a bit of novelty.

The rest of the lineup is as follows: Halcyon, Michelle Malone, Suzanna Choffel, Vicci Martinez, Sick of Sarah, Trina Hamlin, and Natalia Zukerman, a cute-as-a-button singer-songwriter that I saw open for Glen Phillips at his last show at the Mucky Duck. She was the icing on an already fabulous cake.

The scene will be crunchy and granola and Birkenstock-y and all that, to be sure. If that makes you uncomfortable, best not to go. If it doesn't (and it shouldn't, you weirdo), the festival runs noon to 10 p.m. on Saturday. Tickets are $16 online and $23 at the door.