If Julie Ruin were simply a one-person DJ project, you would read of the stylistically ingenious debut release, which fuses garage punk, electronic gadgetry, hip hop delivery and extreme sociopolitical-political activism with deft subversion. If Julie Ruin were not the new stage name for Kathleen Hanna, former front of Bikini Kill, you would read lots of self-important musical criticism about her brilliant use of rhythm, classic fox trot shifted subtly into hyper aggressive guitar chords ("On Language") subtle minimalist keyboard loops ("My Morning is Summer").

But the linchpin of the riot-girl genre, who organized a fiscally detrimental media blackout amongst her peers, devised the record; so you will read what Julie Ruin, Hanna’s Ziggy Stardust, has to say about child abuse, disconnection, isolation, race wars, gender wars, capitalism, the media, and well, humanity.

To drill these messages into the public’s head, she chose some power tools. This record represents Hanna’s adventure into new territory armed with 10-year-old equipment (an effect box, drum machine and 8-track recorder) making what she calls "punk rock electronic".

A middle-aged moderately successful Brighton DJ with a super-stacked studio did not make this record, Kathleen Hanna, a philosophical warrior/superhero goddess did. Listening to Kool Moe Dee and Atari Teenage Riot recently, she fired some incredible sonic bullets, leaving only a trace of Bikini Kill gunpowder, and using the equivalent of a musket in the machine gun world.

"I like working with limitations but I want to get technically proficient so I can execute my ideas," said Hanna from her New York apartment during a break from washing dishes. "It’s easier for me to work with the older stuff and it’s been fun teaching myself, it’s been like learning math using an abacus."

Sure she may lose a sequencing contest with Cold Cut, but his passion lies in the medium, Hanna’s is in the message.

"We live in a fucked up society and it’s hard to not feel totally alienated," said Hanna "It’s hard to communicate in a logical way about things you see and people experiences. I did it mostly not to go crazy and to connect with people."

Writing about what she experiences first-hand through her senses, or second hand through what she reads, watches and hears, focuses this broad-topic album, but also limits the breadth of audience reach.

"If you speak out against oppression that’s happening to you, then it’s selfish, but if you take on a cause that’s far away, that’s seen as gallant and noble." said Hanna. "I’ve always found that concept incredibly disconnected and weird."

Hanna wants to reach those who will volunteer their type at a local women’s shelter rather than sending a check to a Sally Strothers info-infomercial.

"The people who will pay attention are other feminists who have some frustration with the world today," said Hanna.

As a feminist (meaning she wants to improve the condition of women, not that she hates men) she often sees police as the enemy. On "I Wanna Know What Love Is" she calls to the task the way police treat women, "The killers and the cops give us special advice like cross your legs and act fucking nice...Arrest you for whoring then rape you in the car it’s time we pointed the finger at who the real criminals are." She exemplifies this institutionalized gender hatred carried out by the police by the search for the Green River killer (who slaughtered only women), stating if police thought women were human, they would have searched more diligently. Women spend nearly every minute of their day with varying amounts of fear.

In perhaps her most brilliant song, she raps, "So I’ll stay awake almost every night, a pen in my hand and in the other a knife, cuz I’d rather be scared and fight back than be some dick’s maid, babe or wife." over a downright funky dub intertwined with effective sampling, sounding like Luscious Jackson with more guts.

The genius of this piece comes in the use of the chorus, a line taken from a pathetic, whiny love song by Foreigner sung in the sweet innocent octave range of Juliana Hatfield - the conceit, sheer genius.

"We have to sit through so much music about being in love or breaking up and that is some of the most irrelevant shit out there," said Hanna. "Not having health care and having a bladder infection I couldn’t get treatment for, I think I cried over that more than I cried over any guy. Where are the songs about being broke or our friends being broke?"

She admitted her inspiration came when she watched a man and woman perform that song in spoken word format, to mock its silliness, at a books for prisoners benefit.

"I ripped them off," said Hanna. "I was also obsessed with the video for that song. It was made at a time when white artists were bringing in gospel choirs. I guess they were looking for validation from the black community after stealing their music It was incredibly insipid and stupid and I’ve found it really challenging to make sense of it. It’s really offensive. I’m asking cops and government that, I want to know where their love is."

With equal directness, she challenges so-called tough-love in "Radical or Pro-Parental", "She says its for my own good, smashes my face into the car hood." The song that begins with a sample of an Avon or Amway rep. Rap inspired use of sampling and also the use of braggadocio, as in the song "V.G.I."

"I’m not a genius, I’m more like a genie, granting girls wishes from my stone cold bikini," she sings with a mock-valley girl inflection. People assume intelligence based on superficiality, such as vocal pitch, this disturbs Hanna.

"When you’re around a man, your voice will get an octave or two higher, and I find myself doing that," said Hanna. "Maybe it’s a primordial survival thing about fear that we keep our true selves hidden.

She also created the song because women should brag and strut just like men do (for evidence, please watch a football game and pay particular attention to what happens after the touchdown.)

"In 85 percent of the songs out there women are apologizing, so I wanted to say, ‘I’m awesome,’" said Hanna. "That’s something that was missing from the riot-girl genre."

Though she jumped on a new plane, Hanna toted the best bags from that genre onto the record. "The Punk Singer" contains vintage Bikini Kill guitar and vocal fury.

"Crochet" goes one step further, adding distortion, fury and anarchy Alec Empire would admire. It blasts music critics who lumped all women in rock together in a cute little pile, screaming it makes her want to crochet. Perhaps the media’s patronization of the so-called-riot-girls prompted Hanna to throw down rhythms ranging from lounge to psychobilly through an effects box to prove she can operate outside the riot-girl box. Musical divergence aside, the still shouts her core belief, "The world still needs to fucking change."

If she could change the world, Hanna would demolish and reinvent most. "I would change the whole education system and not have such a Eurocentric white male focus and it would not be just a breeding ground for future worker bees by teaching people how to obey or an elaborate baby-sitting system. I would get rid of nuclear weapons. Corporations would not be allowed to go into other countries without environmental protection and build factories in poor areas then poison their water. I would have free health care, higher education and health care. I would have things created based on terms of what people need."

Hanna considers capitalism intrinsically destructive, as it engages people as combatants, not as allies. "If we didn’t have capitalism, then people wouldn’t have to lock themselves in their mansions," said Hanna.

She criticizes Kathi Lee Gifford’s abusive imperialism, yet applauds women who devise ways of earning money independent of male assistance. "There is a very real lesbian separatists community and we owe a huge debt to them because they are getting women to take ourselves seriously," said Hanna.

Though currently with a man, she considers heterosexuality a losing proposition for many women. Torch songs exist, she thinks, because women need validation and an ideal at which to grasp when the reality of their relationship disappoints them.

"I did write a love song, but it’s about loving community," said Hanna.

Operating under a non-vogue embrace of 60’s ideals, she receives criticism.

"I’ve been made fun of, people have said, ‘You sound like a first year college student who just read Marx,’" said Hanna. "But I ask, are we really in a post-feminist era? There’s no day care, lesbians aren’t allowed to marry. One of the most modern strategies is to say, ‘There’s no racism anymore’ but we know there is. People act like getting rid of sexism and racism and homophobia is impossible, but it’s not."

Hanna has contributed her efforts towards change, loudly, furiously, and profoundly, all within the context of a huge musical risk. She summarizes herself with one line in "Stay Monkey" a smooth waltzy track about a person trying to get their partner to toss the remote control and experience life, with the line "Afraid is much better than fake forever."