I was in high school not all that long ago, and…
on rock star friends
“The biggest problem in rock journalism is that often the writer’s main motivation is to become friends with the band. They’re not really journalists; they’re people who want to be involved in rock and roll.” ~ Chuck Klosterman
A friend of mine sent me this quote a few days ago. This is why the music biz needs you! she gushed.
On the surface, Klosterman’s statement rings true for me; I think most rock journalists are, at heart, big music fans and big fans of the idea of rock and roll. You have to be. And we all know how easy it is to get lost in that idea, or get caught up in the hubris, or get too “into” bands — even local bands — with the sexdrugsrockandroll veil over our eyes. The prospect of befriending a big rock star is super-tantalizing if you are caught up in the mystique.
As for me, what I “geek out” about are not the rock stars themselves — or merely the music — but the freedom that they have to be fully creative. I love hearing about that, and I like talking to rock stars the same way I like talking to strangers in a bar: it’s a risk, but it’s usually fun, even if it’s all at arm’s length.
But to be real, live, hang-out friends with a rock star? Playing Scattergories together over crudites? For the most part, no.
I salute you, dark lord Jimmy Page!
It’s not about ruining the illusion; illusions are meant to be used and then destroyed. I am very comfortable with the idea of famous rock stars making sandwiches, arguing with their family and farting audibly. I also have enough non-famous musician friends to no longer be awed by the bullshit of rock and roll. The only rocker mythos I don’t dare disturb is Led Zeppelin’s because, let’s face it, their whole Aleister Crowley thing is the best.
If I’m being honest with myself, it’s more about the fact that I’m totally not cool enough to be friends with a rock star. Nobody likes journalists, and music journalists are like the D&D-playing younger step siblings of the journalism world. The awkward tag-alongs of journalism. We are the dorks to the rock stars’ gods, and everyone knows it.
I think every rock journalist feels a little bit like a fraud; I know I do. How could we not? If we don’t feel that way a little bit, then we’re living a bigger illusion than the believers of the hype surrounding those we interview. We must remind ourselves of this: In the pantheon of rock star hangers-on, we rank slightly higher than ‘hardcore 1st row fans’, and that’s only because even those of us who write what amount to 3rd-party edification have rock star access that the hardcore fans don’t have.
But that’s all we’ve got. Even big-name rock journos (such as they are anymore) are met with suspicion and resentment. Small-timers like me will never have the clout the big-name music writers once had, and those guys are like Quakers — once (and still occasionally) revolutionary, but facing extinction.
In light of all this, it’s probably better to want to be friends with rock stars, even if it’s not possible, only because it’s more realistic than being taken seriously in this field.
So, rock stars, how ’bout it? Want to grab a beer sometime?
Wait… was that a Use Your Illusion I or a Use You Illusion II joke?
Whichever one *didn’t* have ‘November Rain’. 😉