On rock stardom

December 4, 2006, 1:30 p.m.

American Idyll

The Devil's Clack Dish:
A Column

In our society, we often categorize someone who is a major player in his field as a “rock star.”

If you look up the expression “he’s a rock star” on an Internet search engine you get, in addition to the many references to talent show television, references to lobbyists, legislators and even scientists who are “rock stars” in their various fields. When some philatelist in the Stamp Collector’s Journal is described as a “rock star” it’s hard to take the term seriously. And no businessman, lawyer or military leader of any kind is a rock star. This is like calling a wet rag a river.

I believe I am safe in saying that, with the exception of a triangle player for the Bakersfield Community Symphony and maybe an entomologist or two, I am the only person in this county, nay, the world, who does not and never wanted to be a rock star. And I’m not really sure about that triangle player.

What is there about rock stardom that is so appealing? If it were just the accolades of a roaring crowd, then you’d think sports heroes would be immune to the rock star dream. Yet, I’d venture to guess that most every major league sports player harbors the rock star fantasy. This explains, although in no way excuses, those lamentable football team rap videos ubiquitous in the 1980s.

Many major league baseball players with rock god fantasies are featured on several CDs, one of the most notable being Oh Say Can You Sing (Good Sports, 2005), which includes the singing talents of the San Diego Padres’ Scott Linebrink, The Houston Astros’ Aubrey Huff, the Philadelphia Phillies’ Jeff Conine and Hall of Famer Ozzie Smith (who does a creditable job covering Sam Cooke’s Cupid.) On the same CD, Boston Red Sox outfielder Coco Crisp (which, it must be noted, is a mighty tasty name) raps an original tune as does Phillies Shortstop Jimmy Rollins.

Bronson Arroyo, a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds, has his own album out although he should be cautioned not to quit his day job. So does columnist and ESPN sportscaster Peter Gammons. Most all of these performances are listenable, if not particularly stellar, and generally prove what any night at a karaoke bar would: rock stardom is not based solely on talent. We’ve all heard plenty of participants at a karaoke bar rip into a song with a great voice and much zeal.

But they’re never going to be rock stars.

Even actors want to be rock stars. It’s hard not to forget (no matter how hard we try) the irritating Bruce Willis venture, The Return of Bruno (Razor & Tie 1997). Kevin Bacon and his brother are still at it and have managed to release a half dozen offerings. Keanu Reeves played bass in the short-lived Dogstar and Gina Gershon tried to go Patti Smith with the help of Girls Against Boys (which was like using the New York Philharmonic to play a medley of Dr. Pepper commercials.) Again, these are not gratingly bad efforts, but not even close to U2.

So, since we see the rich and famous also yearning for the life of Gene Simmons et al, we can assume it’s neither strictly the money nor the celebrity that creates the urge for rock stardom. Heck, even Garth Brooks tried to break into rock with his Chris Gaines album. So it can’t even be screaming music fans that holds the allure for certainly Brooks had these in abundance.

And remember the opera stars guesting on the Tonight Show, who, after they’d done their signature aria, tried to take a crack at covering a Beatles tune? Whether it’s Bill Clinton wailing on the sax, or Hulk Hogan and the Wrestling Boot Band Review (yep, they have an album too) it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t want to be a David Bowie or a John Cougar Mellencamp.

Perhaps this all just boils down to being cool. You may be under-educated, semi-literate and a half-baked thinker, but if you can look cool on stage and make it work, you’re a rock star. It’s not your hair or your clothes or even your talent. It’s your cool on display. If you’ve got enough of that, your hair, your clothes and your talent will follow and, by reflection, they will seem cool. That’s why those hairstyles are copied. You only have to look at the latest Vogue magazine to see how rock stardom has peed in the pool, so to speak. When the rock star dream took over, fashion went with it.

But I’m here to tell you that imagining yourself to be a rock star in your daydreams is ultimately more satisfying than actually being one. Road food, few real friends, too much booze, smoke, noise and not enough sleep are just a few of the drawbacks. Then you have to deal with record label weasels, guys who, unless you work for Enron, make your boss like a cross between Santa Claus and Abe Lincoln.

You may have a million dollar home, but you’ll rarely be in it and, when you are, security becomes an issue. You can’t walk outside for a dip in your Stratocaster-shaped pool or for a breath of fresh air without a load of parasitic tabloid creeps snapping your picture and fabricating sensational stories. If you yawn, they’ll run the headline “Rock Star’s Sleep Disorder Linked To Heroine Addiction.” You’re far better off ripping a few good riffs on your air guitar and being able to step out of your imagined rock star life. You can hop in your car, go get a burger and relax in peace.

Yeah, there are perks to being a rock god: you’re sexy by proxy and beloved by millions, And, sure, you’ll be cool. You think that maybe you’ll be so cool that your kids will actually listen to you? You must be dreaming.

	Web www.hayshighway.com

The Hays Highway privacy policy

The Hays Highway disclaimer and terms of use] .