You didn't know what you were lookin' for...

Nov 03, 2006 02:00

Don’t expect me to wax poetic about too many musicians or actors.  Much as I enjoy being entertained, I am keenly aware that these people are (in the final analysis) mere mortals, just as I am.  That is not to cheapen the extraordinary achievements of the uncommonly talented.  It’s just, that no matter the rank of celebrity, these people shit and fart and make mistakes and bleed when you cut them, just like everyone else.  Being an actress and musician I consider them a peer rather than someone to be idolized.  And no, I don’t have delusions of grandeur.  I’m just fairly pragmatic when it comes to placing people on pedestals.

Given the opportunity, nowadays, I’d rather not meet the members of my favorite bands.  I prefer the suspension of disbelief they create in their performing persona to what I generally find in their offstage demeanor.  You would be amazed at how many people don’t believe that I am earnest in this, but I submit to you wholeheartedly, that it is true.  Unless I tell you, I don’t want to hang out after the show and hope to meet the band.  I don’t want to stalk a movie star in the mall to get an autograph.  With few exceptions, I have been disappointed nearly every time I have, and at this age, I can't bear that much more disappointment.

Now, knowing all of these truths to be unmistakable, there are still one or two people who move in the celebrity magma that I would really like to meet.  These are people that I just happen to have a deep affinity for, an un-abiding respect for, or just find inexplicably fascinating.  One person that encompasses all of these features is Rick Nielsen from Cheap Trick.

Yes, that’s right.  The one in the hat, with the five guitars all melded into one, with the sinister grimace of a child molester and the musical sensibilities of a sexed-up teenage boy.

If you’re a fan of Cheap Trick, you’re not scratching your head right now and wondering what makes him so fucking special. You just know.  But if you’re not a fan of Cheap Trick, or a fan that doesn’t get what I'm saying (which is pretty much the same thing, in my estimation), then I’ll spell it out.

Rick embodies so much of what I feel like inside, and yet cannot seem to unleash no matter how hard I try.  Too look at, he is probably not someone who would likely be considered “rock star” material had he not formed a band; yet he is, without question, my ultimate, favorite Rock Star.  Even when he was getting started over two decades ago, he wasn’t what most folks would consider to be “hot”, but I can't help but find him genuinely attractive.  Not in the “He’s a rock star and I want to fuck him” sort of way.  I’m referring to the “I want to get as close to whatever it is that he’s emanating” sort of way.  A moth to the flame, that’s me.  And we all know what happens when moths get too close to flames, now don’t we?

I remember being ten years old and seeing Cheap Trick for the first time on a TV show called Video West Backstage Pass.  I don’t even remember the song, to be honest.  I didn’t remember Robin or Tom or Bun E., I just remembered seeing this raving lunatic wearing a cap more suited to a cub scout than a full grown man, styling a checkered sweater and storming around the stage like he owned the whole goddamned place.   He did, after all, own the whole goddamned place and brother I was hooked.  While I couldn’t put it into coherent thought at the time, what I saw was the sort of fearless confidence and almost comical showmanship that was already beginning to die of forced dormancy inside me.

Before long, I started wearing the same kind of cap to school, dressing similarly to Rick (not really getting the whole androgyny of my getup).  It wasn’t unlike me to sport a bow tie with a shirt and sweater.  I wanted to be like him and I guess I felt like looking like him would be a good start.  Kids!  Ha!

Well, one can only imagine the scorn I received for these fashion statements.  After all, when asked why I was dressed that way, I couldn’t really explain it.  I didn’t know Rick’s name for another couple of years. I just knew he was in a band called Cheap Trick and that I thought he was the best thing since Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka.  If you knew my feelings about that version of Willy Wonka, you’d know what a powerful place that impact had on my heart.

Alas, I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the ceaseless taunting from my less than imaginative classmates, and seething consternation from my mother.  They thought I wanted to be more like a boy, but I wanted to be in a rock band; a rock band like the one Rick Nielsen was in.  Even though I had no real idea of what it meant to live that kind of life, I just knew it was where I needed and wanted to be.  It was somewhere that allowed this crazy man to wave his freak flag with seemingly no objection, so man… oh, man… I wanted in.  I wanted to be a part of that weird and wacky world this man represented.  It just so happens that his world is one that is very difficult for a girl to get herself enveloped in, unless she’s putting out (In my early twenties, that was proved to me a thousand times over, if it was proven once).

By the time my spirit was sufficiently subdued by the innumerable naysayers in my life, to the point where I actually feared every moment my Rickness peeked out of my tightly tailored social straightjacket, the road paved to that happy land of freedom seemed to stretch out to infinity.  The more I walked down the road, the further my destination got from me.  Although in my heart, my desire to be a performer of that caliber never completely died, it became an annoying flickering candle in the corner of the dark vista of my future.  While comforted that it hadn’t completely extinguished, I almost wished that it would so that I didn’t feel torn between the life that was being ordained to me and the one I believed would make me happy.  Ultimately I succumbed to the world of "responsible 9-5 citizen" in barter for a scrap of social acceptance.  It was the easy route, the one less fearful than rebellion.  I was more fearful of not being able to survive, than I was of selling out my freedom in order to attain that survival.

If I’d known then what I know now… oh, the places I would have gone, the things I would have done.

Here we are, almost two decades after the first time I saw Rick and he’s still going strong.  Still owning the stage, managing to steal attention with his showboating, unique guitars and, as usual, his manner of dress.  Tonight’s ensemble featured the bling-est belt buckle I’ve ever seen on a straight man. Because it’s Rick, he just… gets away with it.

Yeah, his musical contribution to the world of Rock ‘N’ Roll is plenty excuse to respect him and meeting him would be nice, but would most likely prove to be futile and a bit scary.  All I would be able to ask him is, “How did you do it?  How did you hold onto the purity of the madman you are, without ever caving in to all the people who poopooed you?”  Pretty lame.  Though, I wonder if he’s ever thought twice about it; whether or not he’d be able to come with a quick answer.

Performers do the things we can’t.  They sing the songs we long to sing, play the roles we long to play, and let us live it with through them for a short while. And while I may view most of them as being people who are just really good at their job, like master chefs or renowned investment bankers, there are just some folks that deserve a little more love from us. All I know is that I stood in front of him tonight, witnessing him work his magic for those of us without means to do so ourselves, and had to stifle myself from screaming, “I LOVE YOU RICK NIELSEN,” from the top of my lungs.  If you knew me you’d know how loud that would be, and how rare it is for me to want to do it.

As I drove home with a neck aching from swinging my head around and my hips throbbing from shakin’ my ass, I wondered to myself what I would have been like if I had found my way to Rick’s world. At the same time I know that if I had wanted it badly enough, I would have found it.  Maybe I’m still on my way.  Maybe it just takes some people longer to make that journey than others.  Is it too late to rock? Is it too late to run my freak flag up the pole and let it fly triumphantly?
God, I hope not!  But if it is, I'm glad there are people like Rick and the boys to do it for me and let me share it with them for a couple of hours at a time.



I LOVE YOU, RICK NIELSEN!!!!!!!!!

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