So, I often wonder about the process of how one transitions from average Jo(e) to "rock star." I'm fascinated by the prospect of some music crazed nerd strumming guitar in their dirty-clothes-laden room at their parents' house, and how that nerd becomes the next Bono or Matthew Bellamy.
I listen to a lot of music, and I am especially fond of discovering new music and up and coming bands. I've often talked about it, and I never tire of being able to introduce friends to something I know will be great. I love the giant mega rock shows of U2 and Muse, but there is a warm, special place in my heart for seeing new music in small venues--seeing new music finding its sea legs.
Seeing new artists in small venues often affords me the opportunity to actually meet these new artists and give them feedback on the spot. As a writer, I know how critical it can be for someone just to tell you what they think about what you're doing. It gives you the hope that you might just be on the right track, and for new bands it makes the bumpy overnight travel from town to town in a van worthwhile. It makes the time away from home, family and friends mean something.
In the last year and a half, I have had the opportunity to watch Civil Twilight and A Silent Film grow. I know I've talked about them in previous blogs. I was lucky enough to "get in on the ground floor" with these two groups and see them as they played their first shows here in the states. The first time I saw Civil Twilight at the Bottleneck in Lawrence, Kansas, there might have been about forty people in the crowd. The band seemed kind of quiet--tentative, if you will. By the time I saw them at the Record Bar six months later, I was fearful that lead singer Steven McKellar's exuberance was going to land him quite literally in my lap. I saw A Silent Film at the Buzz Beach Ball last year, and when thanking me for coming out to see them, lead singer Robert Stevenson brushed his cheek against mine. He was very interested in where I had heard them first. Both groups are still fairly approachable, but each time I see them, I can tell they are finding their way--they are becoming the rock stars.
Over the last weekend, Jeph and I attended the first ever "Kanrocksas" festival. It was two days packed with music we knew, and a lot that we didn't.
One of the "acts" that struck me most was "Girl Talk." "Girl Talk," for those of you who are like me, and are completely unfamiliar, is a DJ. He's a guy who mixes different tracks together. I'm going to be honest--I kind of don't get it, but hundreds and hundreds of people at Kanrocksas did. This skinny guy in sweatpants and a headband takes different pieces of music and fuses them together. He could be your younger, annoying brother in the room next door. There is nothing about him that seems overtly special, and yet women in bikinis gyrated around him, guys clearly wanted to be him and a massive crowd was enthralled by him. Even though I wasn't into it, it was fascinating to watch.
Friday night, we saw Ellie Goulding, a 25-year-old from Hereford, England. The picture of her on Wikipedia has her in what appears to be a plain sweatshirt and kind of out of control blonde locks. She looks exactly like the girl next door. She's up and coming here. Jeph and I originally saw her on an episode of Saturday Night Live this last year. Fast forward to Friday night. Ellie was glammed up in platform heels, black satin shorts and a sheer blouse over a black lacy bra. She looked great, but she looked miles away from the Wikipedia photo. I know that Ellie Goulding wouldn't be selling downloads and CDs like hotcakes in a sweatshirt, but it's amazing to see the transformation.
We also saw Eminem Friday night. Here's where I have to confess--I do not enjoy rap music at all. Ninety percent of it seems to be misogynistic, violent, homophobic and horribly negative. Sunday night, I watched a replay of Anderson Cooper's interview with Eminem. In the interview he talks about getting sober and takes Cooper on a tour of the neighborhood he grew up in. I get that many successful rappers have similar backgrounds. While I don't particularly like Eminem's music, I respect what he does and his importance and relevance within his genre. I can't imagine how hard it is to be a successful white rapper. And he commands a presence that is undeniable.
What really gets me is that it seems like the only way to be successful in this genre is to perpetuate all of the negative stereotypes within the African American culture. In order to be successful, you have to talk about women being "bitches," you have to talk about violence and call people the "N-word" or fags. I do realize that there are exceptions, but it seems like these folks aren't the ones making all of the money. And while I know that as a segment of our population, African Americans are the most disenfranchised people in our country, part of me wonders how many of these successful artists might be stretching their own truths--just a little bit--in order to make themselves more marketable.
When I think about a story I heard on National Public Radio's "Talk of the Nation" yesterday, it seems to me that successful African Americans should be trying to perpetuate a more positive image, because there's so much against the young people in their community as it is. In the story, educators were talking about the frequency with which students are either suspended from school or expelled. African American students are by far more likely to be removed from the classroom for disruptive behavior than others. I'm not saying that African American students are more disruptive, I'm just saying that when choosing discipline options, educators decide it's better for these students to be removed instead of trying to find ways to help them within the classroom and the school. I know that artists have a right to express themselves and to talk about the things that shaped them, I just wish that as these folks started to lift themselves out of these tragic situations they could also express themselves about how things can get better and there is hope. But when it comes to cashing in, I worry that the persona is more important than the person.
As I got ready to head out Saturday night, I decided to do a little "transitioning" of my own. By day, I am a veterinary technician and I wear blue scrubs everyday. Other than the jewelry I wear, the way I style my hair and the way I communicate with people, there's not much that tells people who I really am. So, despite it being over ninety degrees outside, I donned my calf-high, patent Doc Martens, a black skirt, red corset top and red lipstick. I'd only worn the Docs a couple of other times, so they managed to shred my heels--but, I looked good, and I looked like what I think my "rock star" self should look like. In the days since, I'm bandaging those sore heels and wearing thicker socks. It's okay, because eventually, those boots will be broken in, and so will that persona.
http://youtu.be/jW5f5OQSdsM
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