People used to say you couldn't play two women back-to-back on the radio because listeners would tune out. It sounds like a bad joke now. But in the mid-90s, that was the actual "wisdom" dominating the music industry. It was a world of grunge, shock jocks, and a very narrow idea of what sold tickets. Then Sarah McLachlan decided she’d had enough of being told what audiences wanted.
She didn't start out trying to spark a revolution. Honestly, she was just lonely. Being the only woman on a festival bill or a radio block felt isolating, so she tested a theory by touring with Paula Cole in 1996. It worked. People showed up. They didn't just show up; they were desperate for it. This experiment paved the way for Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery, a name that has recently resurfaced thanks to a major 2025 documentary directed by Ally Pankiw.
The festival wasn't just a concert series. It was a massive, traveling middle finger to the gatekeepers who thought women in music were a niche "novelty" act.
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Why Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery Still Matters
Between 1997 and 1999, Lilith Fair became a juggernaut. It wasn't some small indie gathering in a park. We’re talking about the top-grossing touring festival of 1997, outperforming Lollapalooza and Ozzfest. Over its initial three-year run, it moved two million tickets and grossed somewhere north of $50 million.
Sarah McLachlan took the name from Jewish lore—Lilith, the supposed first wife of Adam who refused to be subservient. It was a fitting title for a tour that broke every "rule" in the book.
The recent documentary, Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery, uses over 600 hours of archival footage to show what it was really like behind the scenes. You see the sheer joy, but you also see the friction. There were bomb threats in Atlanta because the festival hosted Planned Parenthood booths. Late-night hosts mocked it as "Vulvapalooza." The media was often obsessed with the "estrogen" levels rather than the musicianship, yet the artists kept playing.
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It wasn't just folk music
One big misconception is that Lilith was just a bunch of "crunchy" women with acoustic guitars. Sure, that was the core vibe early on, but the lineup was actually a wild mix of genres. You had:
- Rock legends like Sheryl Crow and Bonnie Raitt.
- Hip-hop and R&B icons like Missy Elliott, Erykah Badu, and Queen Latifah.
- Alternative powerhouses like Fiona Apple and Sinéad O’Connor.
- Country stars like The Chicks (then the Dixie Chicks).
The festival was a launchpad. If you were a new artist on the "Village Stage" back then, you were basically in the Ivy League of career starters. We’re talking about Nelly Furtado, Christina Aguilera, and Tegan and Sara getting their first real tastes of a massive audience through this tour.
The Business of Giving Back
What’s kinda wild is how the tour handled money. This wasn't just about corporate sponsorships. McLachlan insisted that $1 from every single ticket sold went to local women’s charities in the cities they visited. By the end of 1999, they had raised over $10 million for women's shelters, breast cancer research, and other nonprofits.
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It changed the industry's plumbing, too. McLachlan and her team didn't just put women on stage; they hired them for the crew. They had women sound engineers, stage techs, and security. In an era where the "roadie" culture was aggressively male, Lilith Fair created an ecosystem where women were the experts in every room.
Addressing the "Lily-White" Criticism
It wasn't all perfect, and the documentary doesn't pretend it was. In its first year, the festival faced heavy criticism for being too white and too focused on a specific "lilith" aesthetic—breathy vocals and flowing skirts. Critics dubbed it the "Lily-White Fair."
To their credit, the organizers listened. By 1998 and 1999, they aggressively diversified the lineup. Adding artists like Mýa and Missy Elliott wasn't just about PR; it changed the crowd dynamic. It brought different communities together in a way that most festivals today still struggle to replicate.
What Really Happened With the 2010 Revival?
If you mention Lilith Fair to a younger fan, they might only remember the 2010 attempt, which... honestly, it didn't go well. Times had changed. The digital era was in full swing, and the "mystery" felt a bit dated. 13 dates were canceled, and many big names backed out.
Critics argued that because women like Beyoncé and Taylor Swift were already ruling the charts, a "women-only" festival felt less like a necessity and more like a relic. But looking back from 2026, we can see that the 2010 stumble doesn't erase what happened in the 90s. The original run proved a market existed that nobody else would touch. Without Lilith, you likely don't get the massive, women-led stadium tours we see today.
Actionable Insights for Music Fans and Creators
If you’re looking to understand the legacy of Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery, here is how to dive deeper:
- Watch the 2025 Documentary: Stream it on Hulu or CBC Gem. It’s the most authentic look at the footage that was hidden in vaults for decades, featuring new interviews with Olivia Rodrigo and Brandi Carlile about how the fest shaped them.
- Explore the "Village Stage" Alumni: Go back and listen to the early work of artists who debuted there. It’s a masterclass in how a platform can break an artist.
- Support Gender-Equitable Festivals: Check out the "Canadian Festival Report Card" or similar initiatives that track gender parity in modern lineups. The battle for stage time isn't over just because 1997 was a success.
- Listen to the "Surfacing" Album: Sarah McLachlan's 1997 album (which features the song "Building a Mystery") is the perfect sonic companion to understanding the era’s mood.