I confess that I am a closeted Hair Band freak.
Recently, the twins dragged me to Sam Goody's at Ala Moana under the pretense of buying birthday presents for Mad Cow. Now, I should have been suspicious because the Diva claimed she wanted to get him some Angry Bird things (it's not like our house already looks like an Angry Bird aviary with some stray green pigs thrown into the mix) and the logical place to go and purchase those items would have been at Animation Addict. Actually, I think she does not like to go to Animation Addict with me because I will always end up buying some sort of inappropriate for my age t-shirt that includes a swear word or two or something about poop. But being the naive person that I tend to be - hey I assumed they would be using their own money to buy their brother's present but at check-out, the two were no where to be \found. Apparently, there was an emergency at the Calendar Club next door requiring their attention.
So, in addition to an oinking green pig and a DVD of Lemonade Mouth (yes, another evil Disney marketing ploy), I ended up with a CD for Arcade Fire for the Professor, some headphones and a CD of the soundtrack for Rock of Ages. It must be a real slow seller because the sales clerk commented that he could not remember anyone ever buying a copy and that he was surprised they even had it. He flipped it over, looked at the songs, looked at me, nodded and put it in the bag - as if to say without words that it made sense that an old lady would buy a CD of old songs by old rockers. I guess it is similar to what the salesclerks at Book-Off in Shirokiya feel when a jii-chan asks for a cassette tape of Misora Hibari's kayokyoku. What is it with those Japanese grandpas and their attachment to cassette tapes (or even 8 Track)?
All I knew about Rock of Ages the musical was that it somehow involved Poison because everyone remembers Bret Michael's getting creamed on stage during the Tony Awards when he was coming out to present an award. Even then, his cowboy hat and bandana did not move a single inch off of his head. To be quite honest, I bought it because it had a cover of More than Words by Extreme, yet another cover of Don't Stop Believing and was on sale for $7.99. Also, I recognized every song on there and when do you even get a CD that includes songs by Styx, Whitesnake, Joan Jett, Pat Benatar and Quiet Riot? Okay, let's clarify that, when can you get a CD like that without having to wait until midnight for the informercial and order it from Readers Digest music?
Now, I wasn't a real rocker chick back in the day. The only Hair Band I was devoted to was Kiss and I know that had a lot to do with the make up and the theatrics. Once that white kabuki stuff was removed, I stopped buying their music. Nobody thinks Paul Stanley is hotter without make-up, do they? Even with all of the uh cosmetic surgery he has had, he still cannot compete with his Star Child persona. And let's not even talk about Gene without make up - kind of looks like a rabbi with a bad dye job.
My aunt used to work at the Blaisdell back when it was the HIC and got my friend and I who were then in 7th grade at a private school front row seats to a Kiss concert. Now that I am a parent who would not let my daughter see Bruno Mars unless I went with her, I am amazed neither set of parents required that they accompany us. I think my parents thought that Kiss was something like a leather clad version of the Osmonds or something. Let's just say we were probably the only non-white, non-military people there aside from Booga Booga who was booed off the stage. That was a dumb move to book Rap with Raunch. We were probably the only two under 18 also - prime pickings for any drunk or stoned pedophile amongst us. The interesting thing is that while the other people were passing joints around, the guy sitting next to us said to his friend, "Make sure nobody gives anything to those two kids" and surely nobody offered us anything. It was kind of bizarre to think that the people around us felt a sense of responsibility to make sure we were okay. I guess that the Kiss Army t-shirt worked its magic although neither of us could hear anything for the next week.
Flash forward to now. My kids were horrified when I knew all the words for "Beth" and "Shout It Out Loud" when the songs were covered on Glee and had to entertain them with an enthusiastic performance to accompany that on TV. Their pleas to "shut up Mom, you are so embarrassing" that are uttered each time these songs pop up on the car radio are fruitless. Their only way to combat my breaking out in song is to hit shuffle so the iPhone will skip to something by a bunch of skinny white guys singing about teenage angst. It seems like I really don't know a lot of music that is not rapped or screamed. If you ask them, I'm sure they will tell you about how they have been permanently scarred by my performance of It's Not Unusual which followed Darrin Criss' performance on TV. Hmm, as I am planning to be a Warbler for Halloween, maybe if I get drunk enough, you'll catch a limited engagement on the streets of Manoa during trick or treating.
Which is why I am totally shocked that I love this Rock of Ages soundtrack. It has nothing to do with the performances of the Broadway actors (the lead actress has a voice that is a cross between Lea Michelle and fingernails on a chalkboard) and more to do with remembering the original performances and more specifically, the accompanying music videos that were shown on MTV back when it wasn't the all Jersey Shore channel. Remember how irritating Downtown Julie Brown was, especially when she'd say wubba wubba wubba (although I do hate her a little less now that she was on RuPaul's Drag U)? She totally pales in comparison to Dina's "lez be honest" episodes in Florence.
Nobody but nobody can have a slice of Cherry Pie without thinking of a blonde girl with big boobs getting a fire hose turned on her by the members of Warrant? Do you remember Tommy Shaw looking at his watch when Dennis De Young sang "Tick tick tick ticking away" in the Too Much Time on My Hands video? I can't go to a train station without hoping that Steve Perry will be there waiting for Sherrie. Everyone of a certain age who dumped in college shed a few tears each time that black and white video of Every Rose has It's Thorne aired.
Back then, these guys were real Rock Stars but with age, they have become D-list reality folk. The lead singer of Warrant did Celebrity Fit Club then his death via drug overdose was announced on Celebrity Rehab (to another casualty of Hair Band land, Steven Adler formerly of Guns and Roses). Tommy Shaw was on Flipping Out, serving as an ATM to his clearly "I wear the pants in the marriage" wife. Where is Steve Perry now that Neil Schon is having a fling with fame whore Mrs. Salahi? As for Bret Michaels, let's just say no matter how badly I had to go to the bathroom, I would not go near any toilet in his home or bus for fear of catching something left there by the Rock of Love skanks.
Putting the tragedy of the present behind, if you are closing in on 50 as I am, get a copy of the CD and prepare to headbang like mad. Just make sure you have your Tokuhon Chill to deal with the fall out.
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