I went to my first hair band gig last week, admittedly 20 years late. The aging rockers put on great show with their squealing guitars and screams of “Are you ready to ROCK?” Yes we were. Happily the middle-aged metal masters left their skin-tight spandex pants at home.
But when I was a kid, we treated those Hair Metal Gods with contempt and rejected their call to Rock. With their flying V guitars, bouffant hair and cheesy anthems, they looked more like psychotic Barbie dolls than hard-lovin’ macho rockers. Trying to be cool, we turned to The Smiths and those shoegazing guitar bands DJ John Peel told us to like. But did we make the right choice? Let’s consider the facts…
Hair band: Musicians and fans alike dressed like it was Gay Parade Day every day, with glittering spandex, wild makeup, lumpy crotches and enough hairspray to destroy what’s left of the ozone layer completely.
Indie: Only grey baggy clothes were permitted. We were too sad and lonely to bother brushing our hair. What was the point? No-one cared. Only Morrissey styled his hair, but he was probably doing it, like, ironically.
Gimme an R! O! C! K!
Whatcha got? ROCK!
And whatcha gonna do?
(Rock You – Helix)
Every lyric was about being ready to Rock, how hard they Rocked and how they were going to Rock all night. Other themes included hot ladies wearing lacy undies (also Rocking), rides in fast cars (while Rocking) and parties full of hot ladies, fast cars and Rock.
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such as heavenly way to die
(There Is A Light That Never Goes Out – The Smiths
Sobbing – Tiggy)
All songs had to contain references to grief, grey skies, gravestones, girls in graves and gravy. Oh, maybe not gravy. That would have been way too colourful.
Hair band: Every gig was packed full of explosions, fireworks, flaming guitars and thrusting crotches. Hot ladies in lacy undies would try to have sex with the drummer. While he was still playing.
Indie: Every gig was full of kids shuffling and staring at the floor. Girls in the front row swooned over the skinny singer hoping he may cast a shy glimpse their way. Even the haze of marijuana smoke failed to lift our spirits because we weren’t supposed to be happy, dammit. And if we looked stoned and happy, we were just being, like, ironic.
Hair band: Ozzy and Axl’s barbeques must have been one awesome metal meat-feast with all those mangled bats, doves and pigs. Champagne poured by hot ladies in lacy undies! More coke than Amy Winehouse could shove up her nose in a million years!
Indie: Meat is murder, right? And you can’t eat when your heart is broken. Nothing but menthol cigarettes and a big bowl of despair kept everyone going. Besides, we had to keep skinny.
Realizing I made a huge musical error in my youth, I have decided to make amends with the Hair Metal Gods and head down the Road of Rock. It looks like so much more fun!
Having said that, these lacy undies are killing me…
Sparkly spandex crotches are order of the day over at at Humor-Blogs.com
And don’t forget to head over to the spanking NEW humorbloggers.com – more fun than a boozy metal pool party! Probably!